Page 85 of Ezra
Like a patient lion tolerating his cubs as they crawl all over him, he allows them to embrace him and makes no attempt to pull away as he guides them to the ground, where they hug his legs. “I am. Behave, now.” His scolding is gentle. “Kat, this is Malee and DeDe. The little one waddling around there is Julius.”
They’re all so cute. Malee, though she’s clearly the eldest by her height and demeanor, hangs back. “Hello,” I offer with a smile.
All three regard me with shy curiosity, the little boy, who is new to the world of walking, hides behind his elder sister with a grin.
“Hello!” DeDe is the first one to break the mold.
Detective Washington, wearing a frilly pink “Kiss the Cook”apron that’s far too small for his burly frame, comes over with a smile. “Ezra! Good, you’re here. It’s not a party without you.”
I’m trying and failing to imagine Ezra partying when Washington turns to me and offers a hand. “Miss Carson, you look well. How’s your father holding up?”
I take his hand and shake it. “He’s much better. I can’t thank you and the unit enough for everything you’ve done.”
“No need.” Washington smiles. “There’s a spread on the dining table. Grab a plate and help yourself to all the food you want?—”
“D!” A woman with a light-brown complexion, bright amber eyes, and a gorgeous waterfall of black braids swept over her shoulder skirts around his powerful frame to peer at me. “Forgive my husband. He always forgets to properly introduce me to anyone.”
“Right, sorry.” Washington chuckles. “This is my wife, Rashelle. Rashelle, this is Katrina Carson.”
“Kat’s just fine,” I say quickly as Rashelle and I exchange a handshake. I fight off an extreme spike of anxiety. I know how important she is to Ezra, and I’m on guard, searching for dislike or condescension in her face, her eyes.
If Rashelle doesn’t like me? I’m fucked.
But I’m not met with any of that. Her gaze is piercing, yes, but also curious. There’s a warmth to her words that I’m not sure I deserve yet. “Me and a couple of the other girls are in the kitchen making cocktails, if you wanna join us.”
A cocktail sounds like it’s the perfect solution to taking the edge off. I haven’t been this nervous since publishing my first scientific paper on North American paleoanthropology. “That sounds great, thanks.” I weave between a few other guests deep in conversation, who either don’t notice me at all or cast me an idle glance.
Two ladies in mid-conversation near the kitchen island and sipping cocktails smile politely at me as I shuffle in after Rashelle. I nod at them and do my best to banish myapprehension. These are Ezra’s coworkers. His friends. His family. Considering it a workplace helps me harness my nerves a little as I try to appear open and approachable, remembering countless communication and body language workshops that taught me not only how to hold my own in any room, but how to own the room entirely.
Then I see Jayne Rose, and I’m glad I recognize one familiar face. She sits in a wheelchair, something I didn’t notice in her video call with Ezra since she was at a desk. Up close, I can tell she’s one hundred percent a natural redhead. Her freckles are scattered like droplets of paint across her face, nose, and collarbone. She wears a pair of dark leggings and the exact same comfortable sweater Zoey warned menotto wear, slipping off her shoulder. And she looks nothing like a grandmother in it.
Her bright blue eyes catch mine, and she smiles in recognition, which makes her infinitely prettier.
“I like your sweater,” I say.
“Thank you.” She grins. “I like your boots.”
Rashelle slips a cocktail into my hand, and I thank her as I give Jayne my best not-actually-nervous smile. “It’s good to see you again.”
Jayne wheels forward to extend her hand. “Good to see you too! In the flesh, for once. You know, I gotta say, I’ve heard so many things about you.”
I take her hand and shake it firmly. “Terrible things, I’m sure,” I say, abashed.
“Not at all,” Jayne replies as she lets me go. “Ezra thinks highly of you. I was hoping he’d throw caution to the wind and bring you around sometime.”
“Yes, I hope I don’t get him in trouble,” I say with a little concern. Ezra takes his job so seriously, the last thing I need to do is jeopardize that.
“Well, Winters certainly loves having an excuse to bench him, whenever and however he can,” Rashelle replies, resting her hand on the counter. “But Winters and Jacobs weren’t invited. Besides, Ezra does an outstanding job, and the mayor is a big fan of having an android on hand investigating bionic crime.”
“I knew he was crucial, despite his superiors treating him otherwise.” I sip my cocktail. It’s a piña colada. I haven’t had one of these in a while, and I let myself enjoy it. “I’m glad the mayor sees that, at least.”
“They’ll all see it in time, I hope,” Rashelle says. “Remind me, what kind of work do you do at the museum?”
I’m a little caught off guard—but then again, Deion and Ezra are devoted to my case. It stands to reason she knows a lot about everything, if there’s any discussion about it at home. “I’m an assistant curator.”
“Is that exciting work?” Rashelle asks.
I nod. “I think it is, but I’m a bit of a nerd. I get way too excited about fossils.”
