Page 78 of Maid For Each Other

“Yeah, I said ‘posse’ because I’m cool,” she said. “Now listen. I really do need to go, but I think you’re crazy if you don’t go to New York tomorrow.”

“Yeah, you might be right,” I said, though still unsure what to do.

But when I moved on to the kitchen, my mom made the decision super easy.

She texted:Do you think you can do me a favor tomorrow?

Shit.I replied:What is it?

Mom:Daniel and I need a place to stay tomorrow night—it’s a whole thing with our apartment management. Can we crash with you?

Now, even if I was at my apartment and critter-free, I wouldwantto say no. But I struggled to ever say no to my mom because she was always helpless and in trouble.

I texted:My apartment is being fumigated, remember?

I knew I told her. I texted:I’m actually staying with a friend so I can’t help you.

She immediately replied:Can we just crash where you’re crashing? We won’t be any trouble.

It never failed to escape my notice that she was the adult, the senior adult compared to me, yet I was always helping her out. She wasalwaysthe helpless victim.

So it gave me great joy to be able to say:I’m so sorry but I’m going out of town tomorrow.

Mom:What? You didn’t tell me you were going on a trip.

Me:It just sort of happened.

Mom:What do you mean? Is it a work thing?

I thought about that for a second. Technically Declan had just written a check to me for work that I performed, so it wasn’t difficult for me to text:Yep.

But when I finished cleaning the apartment and went back to Dex’s place, it was a little difficult for me to bring myself to text him that I was actually going. So I almost swallowed my tongue when I got a text that said:So have you decided yet?

I hated how hard he was trying to convince me, because it put dangerous thoughts in my head. He was a bored rich dude and I was his fun new friendfor now—that was what I needed to remember.

I took a deep breath and squealed when I sent the text:I guess I’m going to New York tomorrow. Can you let me know when you book it?

He texted:I already did.

I laughed out loud—no, giggled like a tween—even though I was all alone. I sent:You were that sure I’d say yes?

He texted:I absolutely thought you’d say no.

I replied:That’s right, you don’t care about money.

He shot back:I told you I have a million frequent flyer miles from work travel, you judgmental dick.

I sent:Tell me everything I need to know.

He didn’t tell me everything I needed to know, but he forwarded my boarding pass and told me he’d have a driver waiting by baggage claim, so that was more than enough.

I threw together some Edward pieces and a few of my own, packed up my toiletries, then spent a sleepless night wondering what the hell I was doing. Those thoughts kept screaming through my mind in the morning when I went through security before the sun was up, but then my mind was truly scrambled by business class.

He hadn’t prepared me for this.

For starters, when I saw that it saidbusiness classon my ticket, I assumed that meant a level lower than first class. I thought it would just be seats closer to the front of the airplane, maybe with a little more legroom, which I would have absolutely appreciated.

But when I got on the plane and they told me to go to the left, I couldn’t believe my eyes. The seats were all facing sideways, diagonally and kind of willy-nilly, little pods of privacy like the ones I’d seen in movies and FaceTime with Dex.

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