Page 40 of No Room in the Inn

“Now you’re just being patronizing,” I say with a little sniff, letting my hand drop back to my side. In truth, I don’t have anything going on tonight. But it’s the principle of the matter.

“It just seemed unlikely that you would have plans,” Nixon says with a shrug. “You’re probably not hanging out with your parents, and you didn’t mention anything about plans with Sarah when you were talking to her on the phone earlier. Since they’re the people I assumed you know best in Woodfield…” He trails off with a wave of his hand.

I clear my throat. “A logical deduction,” I admit grudgingly. “But you still should have asked.”

“It won’t happen again. Now, are you in?”

“Meh,” I say.

“That means yes,” Sarah says to Nixon, who just nods. Then Sarah looks at me. “I’ll bring Flora!”

“Who’s Flora?” Nixon says, looking interested. He grins. “And is she my type?”

“She’s Sarah’s two-year-old daughter,” I say, frowning at him. Then I smile. “But she’s everyone’s type.”

“She really is,” Sarah agrees. “She’s the cutest human being currently alive.”

“No way,” Nixon says, his grin morphing into a true smile, dimples and all. “You have a daughter?”

A faint siren goes off in my brain, signaling danger like one of those fire alarms with the flashing red lights.Tread carefully, I think, trying to catch Nixon’s eye.Tread carefully.

“I do indeed have a daughter,” Sarah says. Her voice is deceptively light, but I recognize her tone; she’s gearing up to answer any follow-up questions.

I shift nervously where I stand. We’re moving into deeper waters.Tread carefully, tread carefully…

Nixon nods. “Well, if her dad is around”—ABORT! ABORT! ABORT!I scream mentally—“he can come too.”

I sigh, shaking my head. So close—we were so close to getting out unscathed. All Nixon had to do was tell Sarah to bring Flora along and then change the topic. Easy peasy.

But no such luck.

“He’s not around,” Sarah says, her voice suddenly clipped and cool. “He’s hopefully rotting in hell, where he’s undoubtedly getting better treatment than he deserves.”

Finally—finally—Nixon looks at me. Something on my face must clue him in to the severity of his blunder—and admittedly, I might be a little crazy-eyed right now—because he clears his throat uncomfortably. “Right. Sorry,” he says.

“It’s fine,” Sarah says. She looks at me. “I’m going to use the restroom.”

I just nod as she sweeps out of the room. She doesn’t actually have to go to the bathroom; she just usually needs a second to compose herself whenever her ex is mentioned.

As soon as she’s gone and out of earshot, I round on Nixon. “I’ve been trying to get your attention! I’ve been sending you mental vibes! Did you get none of them?”

“I—what?” he says, looking confused.

“Never, ever,evermention Flora’s dad. Not ever,” I say. “If his name is the password to a room that contains life-saving potions, you stilldo notmention him.”

“I don’t even know his name,” Nixon says. He sounds too reasonable.

“It’s Demon Spawn McDevil Face,” I say. “And that’s not the point.”

“Right,” he says quickly. “Right. Not the point. Sorry.”

“When she gets back, she’ll pretend like it didn’t happen. We’ll change the topic.”

Nixon nods slowly. “It’s probably none of my business—”

“It’sdefinitelynone of your business,” I correct.

“But that doesn’t seem like a very healthy coping mechanism.”

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