Page 51 of Problematic Summer Romance

I lie next to Nyota on her bed and let out a slow exhale when she asks: “What do you mean, you left them alone andwent off by yourself?”

On the one hand, the question is whispered, and given that her room is right across from Avery’s, I should be very grateful for the courtesy. Unfortunately, Nyota’s whispers seem to have the acoustic power of a sperm whale.

“I don’t know, Ny. I don’t…Conor and Avery—she said that they still like each other. And he slept in Tamryn’s room, I think. I don’t get what’s happening, but I’m not going to compete against women for a guy who clearly—”

“Listen, Maya—he doesn’t want Tamryn, or Avery. He wantsyou.”

Nyota’s expression is adamant, which is not unusual. It’s the contrast between what she just said and the degree of self-assurance that has me asking, “Did the staphylococcus take a bite off your brain?”

“I’m serious.”

I press the back of my hand against her smooth forehead, looking for signs of meningitis.

“Goddammit—I’m not sick. Or, Iam, but—I was sitting next to him for dinner, and I guarantee you that that man has zero interest in Tamryn or in Avery. He looked at you the whole time.”

“Sure he did.”

“Seriously. Not in an obvious way, he’s smarter than that. But he’s constantly checking on you. Hekeeps trackof where you are.”

I scowl. “He’s just controlling. And protective. Mostly because he infantilizes me—”

“Believe me,” she says darkly. “There is nothing infantilizing about the way he looks at you.”

“Right, yeah. How was your day? Do you want to—”

“He’s just good at hiding itfrom you, I’ll give you that. But while you were playing with the baby boy—”

“Kaede’s a girl.”

She waves her palm, dismissive. “I refuse to acknowledge the existence of children unless it’s absolutely necessary. They produce terrible noises and even more terrible smells, but society lets them get away with it just because they’re cute. It’s obscene how whipped they have us. Anyway, Hark looked at you and the child the whole time. And heglaredat Paul.”

“He glares at everyone, Nyota.”

“Okay, yeah, I’ll give you that.”

“Conor does care about me. But not that way.”

“Are youput your hand on the fire and burn your fingerprintssure? Because that’s not my read at all, and so far I’ve been able to predict with one hundred percent accuracy not only which partners at my firm are currently cheating on their spouses, but also with which clients—”

“I got you something,” I interrupt, briefly rolling around to retrieve the little paper bag I brought with me. After sneaking out of the theater, I spent a couple of hours wandering down Corso Umberto while sipping on a delicious drink made of water and sweet mint syrup. I visited a medieval palace, walked in and out of boutiques and souvenir shops, and decided to buy Nyota a present she would love.

“Wow. Nice attempt at distracting me. I am totally not a skilled litigator, and I will absolutely fall for—Oh my god.” She does the sign of the cross. “What in the seven seas is that monstrosity, and why is it breaching the sacrosanctity of my bedchamber?”

“A magnet,” I say innocently, forcing her to accept it. “Of the flag of Sicily. You’re welcome.”

“Is this the lady with snakes for hair? Who turns people into stone?”

“Yup, Medusa.”

“Why is she staring into my soul? And above all, why are three legs and two wings growing out of her neck?”

“The true question is, why not?”

“Terrifying.” She holds the magnet in her palm. “I need a priest. And a rabbi. And a doctor. Is this thing going to chase me at night?”

“It certainly has enough limbs to do so.”

“Wait. If I put it on my desk, will it keep my boss away?”

---