Page 75 of Never After Us
I glare at her.She grins.She absolutely has Mara’s chaotic energy—minus the filters, plus an alarming amount of detective skills.
“Where is your mother?”I demand.
“In bed,” Mila says.“Probably still sleeping, which is uncharacteristic of her.”
“Do you know what the word ‘uncharacteristic’ means?”I need to ask because her vocabulary is better than Dexter’s and that man is almost forty.
She looks at me insulted.“Of course I do.I don’t use words I don’t know.”
“I guess you need breakfast,” I suggest because maybe it’d be good for Mara to rest a little more than usual.
“Probably.I don’t think they have room service in this place.”
“You used a lot of room service?”I ask
She sighs like she’s disappointed in me already.“Nope, that’s silly—room service is overpriced food.Mom always said we couldn’t waste money on that.How about you?”
“Do I like overpriced food?”I ask.
“No,” she huffs.“Did you order room service a lot in hotels?”
I scrub my face because I swear this kid has blown through an entire lifetime quota of questions before eight in the morning.Ten years’ worth.Maybe twenty.
And the ridiculous thing?
I don’t hate it.She’s loud, yes.Relentless, absolutely.But she also has this brightness to her, this nonstop chatter that pushes against that dark corner in my head I usually keep sealed off.It’s like she refuses to let the room stay gloomy for more than a second—like her mom.
Without answering, I head for the kitchen and open cabinets like I’m searching for buried treasure that absolutely doesn’t exist.Nothing.Not even cereal.How does Mara live like this?
Of course the solution is to take breakfast to my place.
I leave a note on the counter:
The umbrella gremlinis with me across the hall.I will return her fed, unless you come over to have breakfast with us.The door’s unlocked.
AH
That last partalmost kills me, but if I have her kid, Mara needs access without delay.
“What would you like for breakfast?”I ask, instantly regretting it.
Mila’s face lights up the way a switch flips on stage.Her eyes widen with that dangerous spark that says,I’m about to ruin your entire morning and enjoy every second of it.
“Pancakes,” she announces.
“Okay—”
“With waffles.”
“That’s—”
“And almond spread.”
“Mila—”
“And fluffy eggs.”
I blink at her.
