Faking It with the Frenemy

“Yeah, yeah. Look, I know you miss Geneva, but she isn’t here, and Kim isn’t Geneva. She’s a lot nicer…even if she is crazy, with her weird mood swings.” At least she’s consistently nice to Vi.

Princess licks her paw, ignoring me.

I place her on the floor with a small sigh. Part of me wishes Kim weren’t so difficult, and that we didn’t have the kind of history we do. Then maybe we could get along better.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Kim

The other bedroom feels really empty without Evie’s things in it. Actually, the whole place feels empty, especially now that she’s officially moving out. Oddly, I miss her even more.

Since she’s married to Nathan Sterling, whose home is already furnished with super-expensive and nice furniture, she left her bed, but promised she’d send somebody to take it off my hands. I told her to take her time. It isn’t like I’m dying to get a new roommate or anything. With the break Annie is giving me on the rent, I don’t really need one anytime soon.

I nuke a frozen meal, the official Dinner of Executive Assistants Everywhere. While the microwave works its magic, I check up on Salazar.

–Me: Everything good, boss?

–Salazar: I thought I gave you time off.

–Me: What, a girl can’t check up on her favorite boss?

A little sucking up never hurts. Especially with Salazar.

–Salazar: Everything’s great. Having a marvelous time. And Ceinlys says to say thank you.

Ah-ha. If Ceinlys is happy, I just got an extra Brownie point or two. I pour myself a glass of chilled rosé and sip the slightly sweet wine.

–Me: My pleasure. ;-)

The microwave dings. I pull out the heated chicken breast and veggies, and take a bite of carrot. It’s a little soft, and still tastes like boring old carrot. We have such advances in science and technology. Why can’t someone make carrots taste like chocolate? Even caramel would be an improvement. Maybe you could wrap them in bacon or something…

My phone buzzes. Probably Salazar again, just remembering something he wants.

–Wyatt: What’s going on with tonight’s date? Do I have one? I can’t find anything about it.

Oh crap. I forgot to tell him about my decision to go with him to the wedding. In my defense, I was busy trying to roach-block him.

I shove the rest of the carrot into my mouth. I need to work up to sharing my decision.

–Me: No date tonight. Enjoy dinner with your kiddo.

There. That should make him happy.

–Wyatt: But I don’t have a date for the wedding yet.

–Me: Yeah, you do.

–Wyatt: Who?

I’ll tell him later. I want to finish my dinner in peace while it’s still hot, because that’s what’s making it palatable. I push the veggies around, then take a bite of the chicken. The sauce isn’t too terrible—a little thick and floury—but the poultry has the texture of soft rubber.

Hey, at least it’s soft rubber, my mind says, trying to find a positive in the situation. You won’t need to see your dentist about a broken tooth.

Champ looks at the bit of chicken still pierced on the end of my fork, licking his chops. The longing in his gaze says he totally agrees with my mind and more.

There’s an urgent pounding on my door. Wyatt. Has to be.

Sighing, I stand and go look through the peephole. Yup, Wyatt. His hair is sticking up and he looks rather concerned.