Page 60 of Midnight Valentine
From: [email protected]
Subject: Give me a break
I’m calling bullshit on your lame excuse for not showing up today. You feel fine, and we both know it.
For future reference, I hate being patronized. Have the balls to tell me what’s up or don’t bother coming back. Coop is perfectly capable of finishing the job without you.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Give me a break
I’ll let Coop know you prefer that he handle things from here on out.
Not even thirty seconds passed before his response came through. Now I’m not just mad. I’m steaming.
I send a single word back to him:
COWARD.
Then I close my laptop and go about my day, telling myself that the next time Theo Valentine shows up outside my house in the middle of the night, I’ll call the cops.
I almost believe it.
* * *
“This here’s the smart home central controller that you can program all your devices and home electronics into,” Coop says, pointing to the small digital tablet installed on the wall inside the kitchen door. There are four more of these controllers in various rooms in the house, I’m told, that can do everything from turn on the heat and lights to send an alarm to my cell phone if the security system—not yet installed—is breached.
“Once you buy your new appliances, we’ll come out and take care of the programming for you.” Coop grins. “At no additional charge, of course. In the meantime, your cell phone is now hooked up to the system, so you can turn on the lights and open the garage door from the car on your way home, among other things.”
Impressed, I scan the interface screen. There are boxes for the garage door, lighting, A/C, appliances, and audio and security systems. “What if I get a voice-command device lik
e Alexa?”
“No problem. It’ll integrate with the system seamlessly. All you have to do is say your command, like ‘Alexa, turn on the master bedroom lights,’ and you’re good to go.”
“Wow. This is fantastic, Coop, but I didn’t see this in the quote. How much extra is all this?”
Coop slow-blinks. “Nothing. It’s included. Theo wanted you to have the best, so…you do.”
Theo—who faked an illness to avoid seeing me—wanted me to have the best. And didn’t charge me for it. I suppose that makes about as much sense as anything else.
The smile I give Coop is brittle. “All righty, then. Pleasure doing business with you, Coop. Hang on a second, I’ll write you a check.” I head upstairs to get my checkbook from my bag.
It’s Friday afternoon, the guys are done with the rewiring project, and I’ve got an hour until Superego Craig picks me up for dinner. I’ve been ruthless with myself and haven’t allowed my mind to linger in Theoland even for one minute, keeping busy with interviewing interior designers and researching their websites for inspiration. Because I felt awkward going out with Craig without telling Suzanne, I called her this morning to let her know.
“Oh, for God’s sake,” she’d said, sighing. “I should’ve known. The only guys who are ever interested in me are either married, mama’s boys, or in prison.”
I didn’t ask for details.
We hung up after she failed to finagle a promise from me that I’d call her with every dirty detail in the morning. Vicarious sex was better than no sex, she’d said, to which I’d responded that no sex would be had tonight. Period.
To which she’d responded that I’m dumber than I look.
I pay Coop, the guys leave, then I hit the shower. My wardrobe is lacking in date-night ensembles, so I wear the same dress I wore to dinner at Booger’s with Suzanne. Craig’s already seen me in it, but it’s the only one I own. I dress it up with heels and a pretty scarf, swipe on a few coats of mascara, dab a drop of organic vanilla oil behind each of my ears, and call it a day.
Frankly, if the night doesn’t end in tears, I’ll consider it a success.
