Page 81 of Quiet Beautiful Things

I stare her down. “Humor me.”

Her eyes don’t avert from mine. We’re having a silent battle of wills. It must last an entire minute before she caves. She sighs, rolls her eyes, and reaches for one.

She reads it and tosses it aside. “Stupid,” she signs.

I pick it up and read:The fortune you seek is in another cookie.

I chuckle and hand her a second one. After another slightly less intense stare-off, she accepts it. I think I see the hint of humor in her eyes as she reads the second one. Then she shakes her head and balls that one up.

I smooth it out and read the crinkled paper:Error 401: Try again later.

Me: I’d call that an UNfortunate cookie. Try another.

She shakes her head.

“Why not?”

Ellie: Because they’re silly, and—case in point—they have nothing to tell me that I don’t already know.

Me: That’s deep, El. Are you saying you have your entire life planned out?

Ellie: Are you asking me what I want to be when I grow up?

“Maybe I am.”

Ellie: I could ask the same from you. Maisy is thriving. Are you thinking of going back to work full time?

Me: Way to pivot the conversation. And, yes, I’ve been bouncing around the idea. My mom thinks I should get a nanny.

She raises a brow and chews her lip. Do I detect a hint of… jealousy? I could swear I do. And it makes me stand a little taller. Ellie Stone holds her cards close to her chest. I don’t know if it has anything to do with her deafness, or if it’s just a random character trait. Sure, it seems she likes to kiss me, and she didn’t seem to complain about me in bed, but I honestly have no idea how she feels about me. Or I didn’t until now.

Me: Don’t worry. I’ll make sure she’s old and ugly.

Ellie giggles, an almost imperceptible sound escaping her throat, and shows me the signs for old and ugly.

“I have an idea,” she signs.

“If it involves you and me and your bedroom, I’m all for it.”

She blushes. “Signs only tonight.”

“You don’t want me to talk?”

“Not with your mouth.” She holds a finger to my lips as if to punctuate her words. “Or your phone.”

Me: What if I use a wrong sign and unknowingly call you a dirty hooker or something?

She laughs and shows me the signs for dirty and hooker.

“Start now,” she signs.

I crack a smile, thinking this is a game.

But once we get to the restaurant and I go to speak to the host, she puts a hand on my arm to stop me then places a finger against her lips and shakes her head.

Oh, so when she meant no speaking, she meantat all, not just with her.

“How?” I sign.

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