“No,” I say. “I think I prefer sweet-and-tender in the bedroom.”
He picks me up off my feet.
“Wait!” I cry.
“What?”
“My yogurt!”
He rolls his eyes and grabs it for me.
A few hours later, he’s across the worktable from me at Étoile, stuffing cubes of fresh ginger into a duck carcass. “Watch where you stick your hand, there.”
At first Luke thinks I’m correcting him. Then he realizes I’m making a joke about his hand being up a duck’s ass, and he grins.
I watch him truss up the thing and go back over to his station. Sometimes, when he has to prep something, he’ll work near me, but usually no. And he doesn’t sit near me during the staff meal. He sits with the hot-line guys. I sit with the prep cooks. It’s like the French restaurant version of our high school lunchroom. And the principal, in this case, my father, is currently on his way to my table.
“How was school?” Dad asks.
“Fine.”
“What are your classes again?”
“English lit, statistics, human anatomy and U.S. government, which switches to economics in January. Can I have Saturday night off to sleep over at Taryn’s?”
“You’re already on the schedule.”
“But I haven’t seen her all summer.”
“We’ll discuss it later,” he says. Which means no.
Chapter Six
About a month ago, Julian transferred from the military hospital in Bethesda to a veterans’ rehab center in Boston. Since then, Estella and Brandon have both been regularly making the two-hour drive down to visit him. So when I see Estella’s SUV in the garage following her most recent visit, I don’t think much of it. I grab my backpack, go inside and call out to her but get no answer. Strange, but whatever. It’s after eleven, I had school this morning and then work since two and there’s still homework I haven’t done. I get some cheese and crackers from the kitchen and my cell beeps. It’s Luke:
Whatever happened to nighttime visits?
I smile. I haven’t really stayed out all night at Luke’s since school started. For one thing, it’s tiring on a school night. For another, I prefer not to take the risk of getting caught—meeting up at lunchtime is far safer.
Sorry, it’s late and I still have homework. School tomorrow.
I send the reply to Luke, look up and am startled to spot Estella standing just inside my bedroom doorway. “Oh,” I say. “Hey, what’s up?”
First, I see the wheelchair beside her. Then, I see Julian. In my bed.
His face looks much better than it did in June. The swelling is way down, the bruises are gone, and so is the nose bandage. His leg and a half are covered by my lacy white comforter and pink floral sheets.
“Um...what’s going on?” I ask, completely confused. As far as I knew, Julian wasn’t due here for another few months.
“Julian decided to leave early,” Estella says with a frown.
I look between the two of them. Obviously, this is the source of a disagreement.
I turn to Estella. “I don’t understand.”
“He went ‘AMA’—Against Medical Advice—and checked himself out before he should have,” she tells me with an even bigger frown.
“Sue me for wanting to get the hell out of there,” Julian retorts.
“It’s better than being here, where we have no real facilities to care for you.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Well, it’s nice to have you here earlier than expected,” I offer, trying to keep the peace. Guess I’m giving up my room ahead of schedule. “You look much better now.”
Julian glances at me, gets an indecipherable look on his face, and then turns away. “Oh good,” he says sourly. “What a relief.”
Huh. I decide to overlook his foul mood. “I hope the room’s all right.”
“Yeah, thanks for cleaning it.” His voice is snide.
“I didn’t expect you until December.”
“Oh, you mean then you wouldn’t have covered the floor with all your dirty clothes?”
Okay, that’s it. “No, I’d have thrown you a party. Because you’re such a swell guy.”
“Cami,” Estella chides. “Apologize.”
I think about telling her I won’t, and then sigh and grit my teeth. “Sure,” I say reluctantly. “Sorry, Julian.”
“Does that mean you’ll clean it up?”
“Unreal,” I mutter.
“Screw you.”
“Edgy comeback. That one take you awhile?”
“Get out,” he says.
“Wouldn’t you like me to get you a nice pink nightie to go with those sheets first?”
“I said out!”
“Oh dear, the big tough Marine has ordered me out. I guess I’ll have to wring my hands and scuttle away now.”
“Does she ever shut up?” he asks Estella.
“Do you ever act like a normal human being?”
“Cami,” says Estella, pleading now.
“I’m going, I’m going,” I say and I vacate my room. The cot I was going to use is in the alcove already, because that’s where we keep it, but it’s folded up and not made yet. It’s on wheels and a metal frame and is not very comfortable. The plan was for me to keep some of my stuff downstairs, so that means it’s a space Julian and I, in a way, will be sharing. And he’s not just moving into my room, he’s also living with us. He’ll be at every meal, here all the time. Is life at home going to just suck now because of him?
I open my books and set about finishing my homework. I don’t have much, but that’s probably because it’s the start of the year and they really haven’t started piling it on yet. I check my cell and see Luke’s sent me a text, continuing our earlier conversation about my coming over.
Homework? He’s written. Come on. I miss being with you. An hour at lunch isn’t enough.
Hmm. A night with Luke would be nice. It has been awhile; he does have a point. But how am I supposed to sneak out now with that jerk camped out in my room? I text Luke about my predicament. Thanks to this new complication, using my window tonight seems out of the question. And using the actual door feels way more dangerous to me. I could try to open it. But it’s a long walk down those steps out to the street if I don’t leave from the back of the house. Plus, there’s a far greater chance of being seen. By Dad. Who would kill me.
I try to explain all this to Luke, but he keeps working to find a way. He’s telling me to wait an hour and then do it. That the nephew guy won’t rat me out. No, he’ll just start hollering at me and wake the whole house. Eventually, I hear Dad come home.
Please... I want to fall asleep with you, hold you... Luke texts.
I smile. Oh man...
Fine, I text back. Meet me in five.
Unreal. This whole thing has disaster written on it in so many ways I can’t even stop to