Page 90 of Sweet Ruin

At that, Priya’s eyebrows fly straight up.

“I’m not being cute,” I add. “Part of it is I’m not allowed to say. That’s a condition. I’d tell you if I could.”

“Delilah.”

“I know.”

“De. Li. Lah. Girl. Woman. Lady. C’mon.”

“I know, Pri.” I set the cup down. My hands are dying for something to do, so I drag the bin of sanding sugar over and start setting up for cookies I don’t need to prep for another hour. “It’s a few months of a commitment and it ends at Easter. That’s the most I can give you.”

Pri watches me fiddle with things for a while, lips pursed. Then she asks:

“Is this person going to hurt you?”

I stop.

I did not expect that to be the question. I expected Is it illegal, or Have you lost your mind, or What would your father say?

But Priya has always had a gift for getting straight to the heart of things.

I think about it. It takes me a while, but in my defense, there’s a lot to sort through.

A coat settling over my shoulders. Heavy, warm, and fragrant.

The phone in his palm, extended in my direction. Be my guest. Call anyone you want.

Green eyes in the pantry. A huge shadow in the dark.

Do you think I don’t know what’s standing in front of me?

And then I think about the melted guts of my deadbolt in his glove, and the two men on my sidewalk with their backs to my window, and a shaking old man named Sasha bowing in a doorway, and a crowbar swinging at an exposed kneecap.

All of those things are the same man. I get that.

And yet…

“No,” I tell her softly. “No, I don’t think he is.”

Priya studies my face for a long moment. “Are you sure?”

“I think so.” I straighten the last jar. “Which probably makes me an idiot. But you asked, and that’s my final answer.”

“You’re not an idiot. You’re the least idiotic person I know, which is a big part of why I’m scared right now.” She pushes off the counter and comes down the table toward me. “Does he have kids?”

“What? No. Why would you—? I mean, I don’t think so.”

“I don’t know! I’m trying to picture him.” She flaps a hand. “What did your lawyer say about it?”

“I haven’t told my lawyer.”

“Why the hell not?”

“What’s the point of paying four hundred bucks for her to tell me something I already know?” I finally look at her. “Pri, I spent all night thinking it over. If I fight, even though I’m in the right, I’ll lose anyway, and I’ll be broke by the end of it. If I don’t fight, I lose on the 15th. If I take the arrangement, there’s a version of the story where I still own this place on Easter Sunday.”

“And what happens to you in that version, hm?” Her brown eyes are boring into me.

“I don’t know,” I whisper. “I really don’t.”