Page 77 of Red Flag, Green Light

Lyra’s gaze flicks down to her register, then back up to me. “No?”

I hand her three hundred dollars, even though the action physically makes me shudder. Seriously, I’m not the one allergic to money; that’s Jovey. But, still, supporting small businesses who will join the family one day feels like an investment…

Besides, it’s what Jovey would want. Until he realizes that married couples share funds, anyway. Then this poor lass is up the creek.

But, hey, maybe the guilt that I overpaid today will propel her tonever ever, everstop writing Jove his letters. I don’t know. I’m not a master manipulator or anything. I just can’t bear to see him as upset as he was before he stopped by here yesterday. The man came home last night looking more alive than I felt. Which is saying something incredible.

While my bedding tumbled through the washing machine, he actually was cognitively aware enough to stop and ask why I was doing laundry onnotlaundry day.

Do you understand what I’m saying, Lyra?I beam into the woman’s eyes.You alone hold together the scraps of my brother’s sanity. I’m gonna need you to be responsible with this great power.

Swallowing hard, Lyra shudders and tucks the money into her pocket before helping me bring my orchids to my bike. After I set them all up in my basket, I wave amicably at a woman who better become my sister within the calendar year, then I set off toproceed with my marvelous scheme.

A few trips to Walmart’s holiday section later, and I’m nearly prepped for Ceres’s birthday.

All that’s left is for me to make her carrot cake tomorrow evening, so it’ll be as fresh as possible.

But, for now…I must wait.

And “work.”

If sharing snippets of my diary is considered “work,” anyway. If it keeps my future wife fed, maybe it counts. Who knows?

Rouge: Treat for you.

Sara: I require a meal.

Rouge: You’ll take what I give you.

Sara: Like a good girl?

I sigh and turn toward my bed. Ceres’s birthday basket and other birthday prep stretches across my comforter and onto the flooring in a pastel collection that does nothing to hide the memories of what happened in that very spot just two days ago.

It took everything in me to stop myself from trying everything, and if she hadn’t stopped me first, I don’t know if I would have been able to.

Like averygood girl, Ceres. The best, perhaps, to ever live.

I love her so dearly. Even though she’s…like this.

My eye twitches as I get an email notification that alerts me someone is commenting in my document. Already. Two seconds after I told her more was ready. At a mere glance, it’s clear she does not approve of the story’s current progression.

Which happens to have my shy boy male lead knocking on his love’s door, getting scared, and running away before she can answer.

Rouge: Why are you already commenting obscenities?

Sara: Why isn’t your MMC waltzing into her house like heowns the place? What is this nonsense?

Rouge: He’s not going to barge in and tie her up. Sorry to disappoint you.

Sara: He could and should.

Rouge: *shouldn’t

Sara: I typed what I typed.

Defeated, I delete the several paragraphs of snack I managed to throw together and begin again. This time, my male lead appears to have a plan. He doesn’t, though, and neither do I.

Rouge: What if I write a book without crimes this time?

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