Page 57 of Aftertaste

“Oh, no,” she relented. “I totally did. If you keep fucking around, sooner or later, something’s gonna give.”

“Then nothing’s changed.”

“I’vechanged.” She found his hand and traced her thumb across his palm, along one of the lines there. “And on some reflection, I think the benefits might be worth the risk.”

He stared at her, unsure if he’d heard right.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“What, um, brought you around?”

“The restaurant.”

“The… the one I lied about?” He didn’t follow.

“The one you took the trouble to open when you didn’t have to. You could have just brought back your own friends and family. Left it there. Instead, you raised the Dead for people you barely knew. Strangers.”

“Yes?”

“Why?”

“I—” Kostya chewed his cheek. “Because of my dad? I guess? Because I know how it feels to need more time? When I lost him, it was sudden. He was in an accident, and we’d—we had a fight that morning. A fucking stupid fight. And I spent my whole life wondering if he died mad at me.If the very last thing I ever did was hurt him. I’ve been there, wanting so badly to make things right. Thinking I might never get the chance. So if I can help someone not feel that way? It’s worth it.”

“You’re a good person, Konstantin. Selfless.” Maura stared down at his hand in hers. “Even if you are a liar.”

“Does that mean I get a second chance? Or does lying trump selfless, so I can still go fuck myself?”

She smiled at him. “Did you mean it, about Everleigh?”

“Of course.”

“And you wouldn’t think I was a hypocrite?”

“I mean, I totally would. But that’s being human, right? You’re allowed to change your mind.”

Frankie flashed through his head then—his wish to stay dead; his sudden, contradictory aftertaste.

“I’d like to see Ev again,” Maura said softly. “To help her.”

“So let’s do it.”

He started to rise, was mentally mapping their path to the nearest candy aisle, but Maura reined him back.

“No! Not yet. I just—I need to be sure it’s the right thing.” She looked away from him, at a cluster of trees. “Every time I try to process her death, it only makes it worse. Grief’s like leftovers that way. Like you made this four-course meal out of your love, but they only got to eat one little bite. So now you’re stuck with all this food you can’t bear to throw away, and all you can do is shove it in the back of the fridge to rot, or make yourself sick trying to binge it on your own.”

“Or maybe,” Kostya said gently, “you could invite someone else to dinner. Someone hungry.”

She looked at him for a long moment, the way you look at something you can’t have.

“Just… I’m here, okay?” he said, breaking the silence. “If you ever decide you do want… leftovers. I get it.”

“I know you do. It’s just that—” She started to say something else, thewords right there, tongue tipped, but her stomach gave a roar, and she laughed instead. “Apparently, I’m still starving. You up for some food?”

Kostya blinked at her, amazed. No, impressed.

He was still stuffed from the tiki bar, from the dozen apps Maura insisted they order there, and from the beer and pretzels at High Voltage,andthe jumbo package of Nuts4Nuts she’d bought on the walk over to the park. He couldn’t imagine consuming so much as a cocktail cherry.

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