Page 58 of Deja New
TWENTY-EIGHT
“Agh, Jesus!”
Angela found herself sitting up in bed; the transition from dream to reality was so rapid, for a moment she still felt Walter’s nausea.Yes, yes, I get it, I’m compelled to work Dad’s case because back in the day, I was a cowardly shithead. THIS IS NOT NEWS.
At least it wasn’t that memory fragment again, the one that kept bubbling to the top of her brain every other day or so. Dad with the bulging suitcase, but nothing before that image, or after. Her father holding an overstuffed suitcase, standing in the doorway and looking at her. Why was it bugging her?
She glanced at the clock and saw her alarm was going to go off in just over two hours. Fuck it. She’d hit the kitchen, make some mint tea. Try to get serene—as much as she ever could. Face the new day.
So she got up, pulled her robe over her opposite-of-sexy nightgown (faded flannel, sleeves too short, hem too short,cartoon penguin pattern), and started down the hall for the kitchen. Where there was... a light on?
To her surprise, Jack and Leah were also awake, sipping from mugs at the turtle table.
“What’s this?”
Leah immediately looked guilty. “I didn’t wake him! And I didn’t ask him to make me anything.” She pushed her nearly empty oatmeal bowl to one side. “I couldn’t sleep. So I came down—”
“To see if you could snag the last piece of triple coffee cheesecake,” Jack teased.
“Which was gone.”
Jack, in his black boxers and faded T-shirt (MY GOAL IS TO BE THE CAUSE OF YOUR NERVOUS BREAKDOWN) giggled. “Rookie mistake, Leah. If you weren’t an only child, you’d have known that that caffeinated sugary goodness was gone five minutes after I stuck it in the fridge. Why do I put any desserts in the fridge ever?”
“Four minutes,” Angela muttered. It had been delicious: creamy and cool, sweet and smooth on her tongue, with the slightly bitter chocolate/coffee aftertaste.*Knowing she’d beaten everyone to it just made it all the more succulent.
“So insomnia’s going around, I guess.” She poured herself a cup of hot chocolate (whole milk, shredded Godiva chocolate, cinnamon, a drop of vanilla extract... Jacky’s indulgent recipe had turned her off Swiss Miss for life) from the dispenser and sat across from them.
“So this is how we’re all spending our Saturday night,” she joked. “Such partiers.”
“Sunday morning, technically.”
“But you’re okay, right, Leah? The baby’s okay?”
“Yes. The baby... the baby’s fine”
Jack’s eyes widened. “Um, that pause was terrifying. Should we be calling an ambulance?”
Leah shook her head. Angela was amused to notice she was in one of Archer’s old button-downs and a pair of gym shorts that had seen better days. “The baby’s perfectly healthy. That’s not why I’m up. But you’re very nice to be concerned.”
“I’m not concerned or nice. I’m just trying to avoid a lawsuit,” Jack lied.
“I’m fine, the baby’s fine. Besides, you wouldn’t believe it if I told you,” Leah said. “That’s not a challenge. It’s just a fact. There is no point in telling you. You won’t believe me.”
“If you’re trying not to pique our interest,” Jack said, “you’re sucking at it.”
“Do you make any caffeine-free desserts?”
“Yeah, that wasn’t an obvious topic change. Fine, keep your secrets. That’s what we do around here.” He looked at Angela. “Right?”
He knows! He knows I have a crush on Jason Chambers and his crazy/cool socks!
“They’re just socks, I don’t care, they’re not even sexy!”Oh, my God. Here comes the most awkward pause in the history of human events. Say something. Either of you. Something.
“I don’t think you’ve had enough cocoa.”
“Never mind.” Angela pushed the thought of erotic socks tothe back of her brain. “Jack, I’m starting to think it’s time for a checkup.”
“Why? You seem fine to me. No more driven or shriller or controlling than usual.”
