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their plans and their hopes that somehow
in someway she would upend me in this ludicrous Marry a Billionaire
sweepstakes. As if that was even a contest.
    Stupid.
    Or, failing at that, that they’d somehow get
me fired or I would leave or ... ?
    Oh, who the hell knows.
    I wanted to just open my mouth, open my
heart, and tell him everything.
    But to do any of that, I’d have to mention
the Byzans. And mentioning the Byzans might lead to Mara. And this
mention of Mara could lead to my learning about the two of them
doing, well, whatever it was they did. If they did anything.
Maybe.
    I don’t know.
    Or it could lead to nothing.
    Frankly, I just didn’t have the strength
tonight. I wanted to stumble my way to the library, let the plush
couch cushions swallow me whole, and watch stupid, senseless
TV.
    I didn’t want to think anymore. I’d decided,
for tonight, anyway, that thinking was stupid and idiotic and
ridiculous and led to more trouble than it was worth.
    No, tonight was me and a remote and Mikalo
... somewhere.
    Odd.
    Usually I’d want his arm around me or to be
near him or, I don’t know, something.
    But right now I just wanted to be alone.
    Of course, I loved him, I thought as I
watched him dig into my fries, each one dripping red with ketchup
before disappearing into his mouth, his fingers quickly sucked
clean before grabbing the next one. And I could most definitely see
myself with him for years and years and years.
    Perhaps even forever.
    Ah, I got it.
    It was the “M” word that was throwing me. The
realization that people were expecting -- or at least Abigail White
was expecting -- Mikalo and I to get married.
    The thought was ridiculous, though.
Seriously. Check us in six months. Or a year. Two years. Five
years, maybe. See if we’re still strong. See if we’re still madly
in love. See if we were still even together.
    But to talk of marriage just a few months
into a relationship? That was crazy. Even I knew that. And,
frankly, I just wasn’t ready. Being in a relationship as intense
and crazy and consuming as this was enough. But to add the “M” word
into the mix?
    No, thank you.
    He was watching me now.
    “You are thinking, yes?” he asked.
    “Yes,” I said. “Just, I don’t know, nothing
big. Random stuff.”
    “You would like to speak?”
    I shook my head.
    “No, not really,” I said with a small smile.
“Thank you, though.”
    “I do not know what worry you have, my
Grace,” he said, his hand reaching to cover mine. “But together we
will win.
    “This is my promise from me to you.”
    I nodded.
    But I also knew that the only way we’d win
would be if we were together. And to be together, I needed to ask
these questions, get some answers, and settle these doubts. Not
everything, of course.
    But the big things? Like Mara?
    Yes. Absolutely.
    I needed to find a way to speak with him
about that. Find the time. Find the courage.
    “Tomorrow, I will come and we will have
another small bite, no?” he suddenly said.
    I smiled, thinking of the dinner he just
inhaled, his mammoth cheeseburger disappearing in four big
mouthfuls.
    Small bite indeed.
    “I’d like that,” I said.
    He nodded and then ate my last fry.
    I’d speak with him about “the Byzan” then.
Tomorrow. Over lunch. Or walking to lunch. Or walking from lunch.
Or ... whatever. I’ll figure it out.
    Regardless, that’d give me time to relax.
Stop worrying. Move beyond this latest obsession with What Might
Have Been, But Probably Never Was when it came to that skinny Byzan
bitch.
    Yes, that’d work.
    I’ll think about it tomorrow.
    It couldn’t hurt to wait another day,
right?
     
     

Chapter Thirteen
     
    Mikalo was waiting for me outside when I left
work.
    With Abigail lurking and Marcus looking over
my shoulder, not to mention a day spent putting out fires left,
right, and center, I’d had to cancel lunch.
    “My Grace,” he had assured me when I’d called
to break the news. “Outside, we will meet when you are