Page 73 of Absolute Certainty
Wait, no, actually, now I’m lost. What did she do?
Willa let out a laugh. “Which was?”
Sahar took a sip of her whiskey sour and answered, “It’s likely because I moved him out of the billiard room a few rounds back, and he’s being a bitter numpty about it. But I’ll be the bigger person here, E. Miles, hold that guess,” she said.
“This is bullying,” Miles retorted.
“It’s not bullying if we’re looking out for you, you idiot,” said Christian.
Miles grimaced, fighting a smirk. “Fine, but I swear, if I lose becauseyoustopped me, you’re buying me lunch all week.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Christian agreed.
It was Willa’s turn again. She landed on a six but opted out of moving from the kitchen. She made another random guess: Professor Plum, in the kitchen, with the wrench. She had the Professor Plum card; she knew that wasn’t it. Again, she didn’t care. Christian to her left couldn’t show her a card, but Miles carefully showed her the kitchen.
Sahar giggled, making Jay’s eyes dart longingly in her direction. The spark in his gaze might have been the most precious thing she’d bear witness to today. He’d turned to her like the sound of her laugh was his favorite song, and it just came on the radio. She was like sunlight cascading through a stained-glass window to him. A rare jewel. A monument. A renowned work of art. Something to stop and stare and marvel at.
“Oh, I’ve got this in the bag,” Sahar singsonged.
Miles’ brows shot up. “See, I knew you were cheating. You just wanted menotto beat you all.”
They all laughed.
“It’s not cheating just because you’re bad at the game, boo,” Sahar said.
Christian took the dice and rolled. He was in the study, taking four out of his five steps. He went into the hall.
Pursing his lips in thought, he guessed, “Miss Peacock, in the hall, with a revolver.”
Ethan groaned, annoyed that his person would be moving from the ballroom to the hall. Miles couldn’t show Christian a card to counter his guess, and neither could Sahar. Jay, however, had something, so the rest of them closed their eyes until he was done disputing Christian’s guess from across the table.
Next, Miles rolled, landing on a three.
He took his totem, went in through the secret passageway into the study, and dramatically cleared his throat. “Accusation time, butternut squashes. Watch and learn. Mrs. White, in the study, with the revolver,” he bit out.
He was surely right about Mrs. White and the revolver, but Willa was almost positive that someone must’ve had the study.
Miles closed his fingers over the confidential envelope and opened it. “Motherfucker!”
“That’s what you get for accusing me of cheating,” Sahar said, then threw a piece of hot Cheeto at him. With his ridiculously honed reflexes, Miles caught the crisp in his mouth.
Chewing and talking at the same time, he accepted his loss. “Fine, good luck without me. Where’s Tulip, E? I’m going to bond with her.”
Ethan shrugged. “Check the master bedroom. She usually hides there when people are over. If she’s not there, check the guest room.”
Miles got up and walked over to the bedroom, calling for Tulip withpspspsps.
They played two more rounds until the game came back to Sahar. First, she’d rolled and landed at a six, moving her totem out of the study; afterward, she landed on a three, putting her inside the library. If Willa was actually paying attention, she’d wager the library was now the objective. And if Sahar won, like some cosmic interference, her winning wages—whatever they may be—were tied to Jay.
Everything about this outcome wasalreadyglorious.
“Hey, Miles. Get your ass back in here. I want to see your face when I win,” Sahar bellowed.
Willa turned to Ethan. “You think she’s got this?”
“She’d never risk the loss,” Ethan returned.
Jay was looking right at her, pride and excitement split evenly along his habitually stoic demeanor.
