Page 88 of The Cupid Chronicles

I turn back. “My apartment, my rules.”

He shakes his head. “I’ll come back later.”

“I’ll be eating Flamin’ Hot Cheetos with cream cheese later,” I say. “That’s my plan for lunch.”

He lets out a groan and stands. “Is this your way of getting me to cook you breakfast again?”

I smirk at him and set the box aside. “I mean, if you’re offering. I did have a dream last night that I was being chased by a giant piece of French toast.” I sit down at the little two-seater table I’ve got in the corner of my kitchen and watch as he opens my refrigerator.

He winces at the lack of ingredients. “We’re going to have to go to the store.”

“We can’t do that on Slow Sunday,” I say.

He frowns. “Slow Sunday?”

“It’s a me-day. A day where I can go slow. I’m sure you can relate, right? You’re completely tapped, I’m guessing, after a huge night at the restaurant. I’m with children for eight hours a day, five days a week.”

I hold out my arms and show off my outfit, presentation-style. “Slow Sunday.”

He leans against the counter and crosses his arms over his chest, and I have a fleeting thought that he looks really good in my kitchen. “You might need to make an exception today.”

I frown. “Why?”

“I’m going to give you a magic lesson.”

My brain goes into overdrive with the wordsgive, you,andlesson.

“Oh.” I stand, trying not to let on that I’m suddenly warm. “You are?”

He shrugs. “The sooner you learn everything I know, the sooner I’ll be done with the magic.” A pause. “Or maybe it’s the magic that will be done with me.”

I give a definitive nod becauseof coursethat’s what this is about. I already knew his feelings on the subject, so I can’t be hurt that this “friendship” is conditional.

And once the magic officially passes to me—I don’t know if I’ll like what comes after.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Iris

“Okay, boss,”I say, trying to sound more excited about this than I feel. “Where do we start?”

“With Joy,” he says. “I know who she is.”

“I assume you’re going to tell me how you figured that out,” I say. “If you’re going to mentor me, you have to share all your secrets.”

“Grab your coat and come with me,” he says, pulling his own coat back on.

I look down at my pajama pants, then at him with athis is what you getlook.

“Oh, we’re not leaving the building. Well, not leaving the grounds.”

I’m confused.

“You’ll see. But you’ll probably want shoes.”

I grab my shoes, pull on my coat and follow him out into the hallway and then down the stairwell.

I do a really good job of not asking a bunch of questions on the way—go me—and we reach the ground floor and step into the lobby, then walk into the courtyard.

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