Page 225 of The Winslow Brothers

“This building is really nice, but it’s also kind of confusing.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, when I came in downstairs, I was expecting the lobby to be a straight shot to the elevator, but it’s more like a matrix or something. Like, I kind of felt dumb, to be honest. All the hallways lead back to the beginning, but they’re like a hexagon and remind me of being in one of those fun house mirror maze things, you know?”

I smile, but I don’t say anything because I know by now, I don’t need to. Daisy has absolutely no problem carrying on a conversation herself.

“It actually reminds me of the building where they get into the huge firefight at the end of that movie…you know, the one with Gerard Butler…Angel Has Fallen!”

Having seen the movie a couple times, I know immediately that she’s actually right. It is startlingly similar to that building. I chuckle.

“I finally had to split my hope between finding your office and finding the office where they were hiding President Morgan Freeman, you know?”

The elevator eases to a stop on the ground floor and opens its doors, and I put my hand to her back again to lead her out of the building. There are a few turns, but if you take the most direct route, it’s pretty easy. When we make it to the front doors quickly, she scoffs. “Sure. Work your voodoo magic or whatever, just as I’ve made it all sound dramatic.”

I grin. “I’ve worked in this building for the last fifteen years, so I think I have a little bit of an advantage.”

“Fifteen years? Really?” she asks.

I nod.

“That makes sense, I guess. I’ve just never been anywhere for fifteen years. It seems so…long.”

I laugh. “If it makes you feel any better, I move my desk chair arounda lot.”

Daisy’s answering smile is so mesmerizing, I don’t even look before pushing the front door open onto the sidewalk and almost take out a guy with a giant inflatable lollipop. He stumbles to the side and swings the thing like a sword, and Daisy’s eyes sparkle. “New York is wild, man.”

I grin. That it is.

Thankfully, the little diner I like to frequent for lunch is only right across the street, and after a quick jaywalk, we’re inside again.

I escort Daisy straight to the table in the back where the framed reservation sign with my name on it sits. She reads it aloud as we scoot into our respective sides of the booth. “Reserved for Flynn Winslow.” She snorts. “Come here often, do you?”

I shrug. “Just about every day for fifteen years.”

“Wow! Holy shit, you’re a creature of habit! I can’t believe it. The guy nobody knows anything about does the same dang thing every day.”

“You make it sound like I’m some sort of phantom,” I say with a laugh. “No one has ever asked me where I have lunch, so I haven’t offered it up. That’s it.”

“No one has ever asked you?”

I shake my head, and Barbara, my favorite quiet waitress, sets a couple of plates with burgers in front of us along with two glasses of water, and then heads back for the kitchen. I glance to the food and then at Daisy. “Is this okay? She obviously just assumed you wanted what I get.”

Daisy waves off the food faux pas and pops a fry into her mouth before leaning into her elbows on the table and whispering intently, diving right back into the conversation we were having before Barb brought the food. “Your sister talks like you’re ex-CIA, and you’re telling me it’s all because people don’t ask you?”

I shrug. I mean, yeah. If they asked, I’d answer. But I’m not going to fucking gab for no reason. I pick up my burger and take a bite.

“Holy shit. That’s…groundbreaking, really.”

I roll my eyes with a shake of my head and a dry laugh, and Daisy reaches across the table and grabs my hand to stop me.

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Black.”

“What’s your favorite holiday?”

“All of them that bring the family together.”

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