Page 24 of Rapunzel Is Losing It

“It happens.” It had happened before. Almost exactly six years ago. Less drunk. Less her fault. I’d kissed her then, and she’d been the one to stop it. After a minute or two. Back then, I’d had no intention of staying. Now, that was the only thing I wanted, and if she needed to pretend the kiss didn’t happen, it didn’t happen. If she regretted the kiss, we’d just move on. If she’d actuallymeantto kiss me… I stopped the thought before it could fully form.

“If you want to speak to a lawyer, or a therapist, or both-”

I fell back in my chair like she’d slapped me.

“I mean because I’m your boss. It’s well within reason.”

“Bullshit,” I said.

“Does that mean we’re alright?”

“We’re alright, Cordelia.”Moving onit was.

The only reason I might need a fucking therapist was that I watched her fingers twirl through her hair, and I suddenly saw myself wrapping her ponytail around my fist and yanking her head back while I stood behind her - and neither of us was wearing clothes in that scenario.

“Speaking of my birthday. Before. With the tea cups.”

I nodded. Birthday. Safe topic. Nice. Positive. Fully clothed.

“I’d like to invite some people for my birthday, have a proper cake and party. Del, obviously, and Beck. Tabitha and Defne.”

“Sure?” The girls had all been over, and Beck had stayed with Delilah a few times, but Cordelia had never dealt with all of them here at the same time.

“Maybe we can do a test run. Without the people.”

“Let me figure out my uncle’s schedule for me before you start planning.”

She bit her lip. “I might change my mind.”

“That’s okay.”

We finished eating and Cordelia told me about work and about her weekend, about repotting plants and about the loneliest whale in the world, whose whale sounds traveled at a different frequency, so he wasn’t able to find or communicate with other whales.

She pulled her phone out and hovered in the doorway while I loaded the dishwasher. “Victor?”

“Hm?”

“Not a tea set. A musical teapot. They used to make them in the fifties, with little music boxes in the bottom, playingTea for Two. That’s what I want for my birthday. Musical teapot. Tea for Two.”

“Alright.” I nodded and earned myself a big beaming smile that eradicated the last shreds of tension from the past few days.Cordelia twirled around, and basically skipped down the hall and up the stairs.

If that was her reaction, I really had to figure out where to get her a music box teapot.

Six years ago, I’d turned my nose up at Cordelia’s pink patchwork home. Having grown up under Petya’s roof, I was used to everything having to be expensive or state-of-the-art. Cordelia, on the other hand, didn’t care whether she was collecting kitsch or rare antiques. Anything was fair game, as long as it fit her pastel pink, rococo-inspired, cotton candy dream house.

She liked what she liked, and she didn’t care what value other people placed on an item. Or a person. It had taken me way too long to admit that this didn’t make her silly and naive. It meant she had more integrity in her pinky than most people had in their entire body.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The pen capcracked and the little clip flew through the air. I lost sight of it before it could land.

“That’s bullsticks,” I muttered, eyes back on the graph on screen.

“Come again?” Amani fumbled with her headphones.

“It’s absurd,” I said, finding a better word to express my feelings. “We’rehelpingpeople.”

“We’re mostly helpingwomen,” Amani corrected, “leaving husbands, getting abortions, going to court.”

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