“The tennis star? Won the Australian Open and a bunch more tournaments after that.” She arched a brow. “You see where I’m going with this? I’ll force my hubs to force Jason to force his client to sign on to your shoe.”
“That’s a lot of forcing,” I said with a laugh.
“Think of the possibilities. The exposure. The more shoes we sell—”
“The more of that damn plastic gets repurposed. And every penny of profit goes right back into cleanup.” I shocked myself by offering my hand for a high five, which Jana obliged. “You have to present with me.”
She shook her head. “No, no. This is your baby. I won’t have Jason on board by Monday, anyway. It’s all you, girl.”
The thought should’ve given me hives, but the twinge of anxiety in my stomach had faded altogether.
Take that Deber and Keeb.
“Now can we talk about this?” Jana nudged the Macy’s bag under the table. “Is it really so frumpy?”
“Well…”
“Let me see.”
I wiped olive oil off my hands and held up the dress.
Jana pursed her lips and cocked her head in a mildly reproving way. “Luce, it’s gorgeous. Moreover, you love it, right?”
“I think it’s sort of perfect.”
Jana brushed her hands together. “Welp, seeing as we no longer have to wrestle with the returns line at Macy’s, we have time for dessert.”
I grinned. “Yeah, we do.”
After we finished strong Greek coffees and shared a slice of baklava, Jana gave me a hug. “Let’s do this again sometime. Please?”
“I’d like that.” I held up my bag. “We’re close to my place. I’m going to drop this off and hang it so it’s not bag-wrinkled for tomorrow.”
“An excellent idea. See you back at the office.”
We parted ways, and I went back to my apartment. I rounded the corner and stopped short. Casziel was sitting on the lowest rickety step of my staircase, his head bowed, his arms dangling off his knees.
The first emotion that swept through me was anguish because he looked like he was in terrible pain.
The second was an overwhelming, unwarranted rush of joy that he was still here.
With me.
Seventeen
I climbed the stairs and sat next to Casziel, setting my dress bag aside. “What happened?”
When he didn’t reply, I took his left arm in my hands and carefully rolled up the sleeve of the black Henley that made him look just as devastating as I suspected it would. Seven burned slices marched up his arm now, one fresh, the skin an angry red.
“This isn’t right. It’s horrible. Cas, I—” I’d laid my hand on his shoulder and he flinched away from my touch. “There’s more?”
He smiled grimly. “A souvenir.”
I tugged down the back collar of his Henley and bit back a cry. Something had been burned into his skin. Branded into him.
Anger burned in me too, swift and hot. “Come on. We’re going to take care of this.”
“Leave it, Lucy.”