Page 44 of Red Flags Only

And, honestly, even if I could? I don’t think I’d want to. I’ve loved a woman before, quite dearly, and she left me in a traumatizing smoke of disease and death. If I were tofall in lovewith Lyra and she left me? Or, worse, she died? The grief I feel at the loss of my mother is already more than I can handle most days. Inviting a chance of experiencing a grief just as intensely again is not something I’m all that willing to do.

“Hm. Sorry,” Mars finally murmurs around a bite of carroty goodness. “I’ve run through my memory of popular searches right now, and it’s completely unavoidable. People just aren’t looking for she falls first. For the sake of the plot, I need you to trip.”

He flops our meeting book back open. “Next order of business.”

“I don’t think we finished that one to my satisfaction,” I tell him. “Could we revisit?”

He produces a red pen from… somewhere… and marks a definitive line through agenda item number four. “No.”

Ah. Alrighty then.

That’s fine, really. It’s not like he can force me to fall in love with someone.

I mean, it’s not even on the agenda.

“Book progress. How are things going?” he asks.

Ah, he’ll love this.

His eyes narrow on my shoulders as they straighten and I declare proudly, “One third done. Possibly closer to two fifths.”

He tears his eyes off my shoulders to beam at me. “Two fifths? That’s larger than a standard carrot cake size. Sara will be thrilled to hear it. She’s been… dying for some Rouge content lately. ” He twirls his pen. “Messaging me every day about it. Poor girl.”

I nod. It sure is. Sara, our editor – the woman who swoops in after Mars to do the final edits – shall soon be fed. “Lyra ismagical.”

The pen stops spinning. “Done by the end of the month, I assume?”

“Definitely.” Probably before then, really, but… well, I have a month’s worth of dates planned with Lyra. So if it needs a month, it’ll get a month. You can’t rush good research.

“Perfect, perfect,” he says, crossing the point off our list. Mirth leaves him, and his nose scrunches before he reads the next point: “Ted.”

Possibly, I gag.

“Tires slashed and window screens mysteriouslydisappeared,” I assure. “That guy is having a bad time.”

“As he should,” Mars says.

“As he should,” I repeat. “He knows what he did.”

Another red slash. “He certainly does.” His pen taps against the notebook. “Book, date, Ted… marketing. Marketing is going great, per usual, we’re making an amount that is larger than three pennies a day, so we’ll not be on the streets yet. And that’s good news, Jovey. It is. Very good news. Speaking of good news and staying housed-” His smile rises, pinning me. “-why did you tip someone five hundred dollars last week?”

“I’m justsobad with money, babe. Can’t help it. Never did learn how to count. It’s why the chapters are never numbered when I give them to you.” And not because fixing chapter numbers post-edit is much easier than sloshing them around during. “Moving on! I would like a Mars update, if you please.”

Nervous laughter leaves him, but he seems to set the whole money thing aside, bless all. I cannot be expected to be held accountable for my own poor accounting. I am allergic to the green stuff in my wallet. That is not my problem.

Closing the book, my much-better-with-money brother replies, “A Mars update, huh?”

“Clock’s ticking, dearest.”

He stuffs carrot cake in his mouth. “Well, I’m planning a festival. For Bandera. It’s going to be great. It’s all about Flag Day. It’s for the girlies.”

I perk up in my seat. “A Flag Day festival?”

Mars nods, affirmative. “Yes, for the girlies. You should take Lyra to it.”

I hum, mind moving. Lyra’s a girlie. Lyra wouldlovea Flag Day festival… “Yes,” I say. “Yes, I think I will. Is it going to be on a Friday?”

“Of course. Fridays are date nights.”

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