Page 24 of 10 Days to Ruin

I wince and plug my ears. Lora does not notice.

“Did you see John’s email?” Lora blows across her tea, sending plumes of steam toward the sagging ceiling tiles. “We’re all supposed to pivot to the Mayor’s new infrastructure bill. He wants six hundred words by three on community impact angles. Oh, and Ariel—he put you on the Brighton Beach team for interviews tomorrow. Yay, fieldwork!”

Gina chokes on her orange juice.

My fingers tighten around the scalding cardboard cup. The assignment should feel like a win—real reporting, finally. Instead, the wordsBrightonandBeachcurdle in my gut. The last place I should go is anywhere near my father’s domain.

Lora, meanwhile, has started humming.

It’d be nice to live in her world for a little while. Mostly because “her world” is a snow globe filled with rainbow sparkles, where everything is “yay” and “woo” and never-ending sunshine beams.

No room in a place like that for men like Sasha Ozerov.

“Yay, fieldwork,” I grumble in a miserable monotone. “Can’t wait.”

Lora, in a shockingly perceptive move by her standards, looks over at me. “Is something the matter, buttercup?”

In response, I press my forehead to the cool laminate surface of the break room table.Everythingis the matter.

“Ree here had a… let’s call it a ‘bad date,’” Gina answers for me.

“Bad date?” Lora’s eyes go wide with sympathy. “Oh, no! Tell me everything. Was it one of those awful Hinge situationships? I had the worst experience last week with?—”

“More like an arranged marriage situationship,” Gina supplies helpfully.

I lift my head just enough to glare at her. “Thanks for that.”

“Arranged marriage?!” Lora gasps, collapsing into the chair beside me. “That’s so romantic! Like a fairy tale!”

And that is exactly why Lora falls in love with every man she meets. It’s also why she writes the paper’s dating advice column, though she’s the last person on Earth anyone should take dating advice from. She’s a romantic, naive enough to still have hope that things work out.

I gave that up years ago.

“Less fairy tale, more horror story. This guy is the farthest thing from Prince Charming.”

“No man is,” Lora sighs in a very un-Lora-like fashion. “But I thought Ethan was The One, you know?”

Gina perks up like a shark scenting blood in the water. I know that look. It’s the same one she gets when someone mentions their cryptocurrency investments or healing crystals.

Pure, predatory delight.

“Tell us about Ethan,” she says, leaning forward. “I need a distraction from Ariel’s love life crisis.”

Lora rests her chin on her hand and gazes into the distance. “He… He… H-h-he…”

Is she having a stroke?Gina mouths to me.

I’m wondering the same thing. Lora looks like she’s malfunctioning. Sniffling, eyes welling up, cheeks flushing, shoulders starting to tremble…

“Oh, shit,” I hiss. “She’s…”

Crying.

No, not “crying”—she’s straight-up ugly girl sobbing.

As per usual, Gina started this whole mess, but as per even more usual, I’m the one who feels obligated to pick up the pieces. “Lora,” I venture, “are you okay?”

She sobs harder. “Yes! I’m fine! I’m— I’m just s-so happy for you?—”

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