Page 62 of Better Hate than Never

“Christopher,” she says.

I tip my head and force a wide, easy smile. “Katerina.”

Tearing my gaze away, I look down at the photo. “I see why you chose to share this one. It predates your extended orthodontia season.”

Her eyes narrow. “My ‘extended orthodontia season’ seems front and center in your mind, Christopher. I wonder why.”

I grin. “Saw that photo, did you?”

Now the empty swaying chair makes sense. She was snooping around my office.

Kate sniffs, pocketing her phone.

“Oh! There she is!” Curtis appears out of breath, his glasses slightly askew, forcing a smile as he power walks into the conference room and says to me, “Like I said, definitely handling it—”

“No need.” I wave him off. “We’ll stick with the updated schedule.”

He glances frantically between us. “Uh... You sure?”

Kate frowns. “Is something wrong?”

“Okay, folks.” I clear my throat, smiling politely at the team. “Fun as this has been for you to get a little trip down memory lane, let’s get back to it. Curtis will let each of you know when Kate’s ready to take your headshot.”

The group disperses with politenice to meet yous for Kate, some of which linger a little too long until they notice me watching them like a hawk.

Kate turns on me, arms folded. “What was that about?”

I wait until the last person shuffles out and Curtis shuts the door behind them, before I turn on her, so close our chests nearly brush. “I’d ask you the same question, Kate. What are you playing at, showing up here today and pulling a prank like this? If it were just me, that would be one thing, but Curtis has been bending over backward to accommodate this little stunt of yours.”

“Christopher, it’s just some vegetarian sandwiches and soups. All your assistant had to do was place the order I’d lined up with the café and spend a little of all that money you bathe in every night. What’s the big deal?”

“First of all, I don’t bathe in money. But nice to know you’re thinking about me bathing. At night.”

She rolls her eyes. “Am I that transparent? Yes, Christopher. It’s all I think about.”

“Second of all,” I tell her, ignoring her dripping sarcasm, “I’m not talking about the catered lunch—well, notpredominantlythe catered lunch. I’m talking about you showing up, acting like today is photo day, sending Curtis into a tailspin.”

Her eyes widen. She blinks at me. “I...” Glancing away, down at her camera bag, she fiddles with its straps. I watch her shoulders set, her jaw harden. I’ve never been so aware of watching Kate slip on her armor.

And I’ve never been so aware of how hard I’m used to being on her. I assumed she showed up on the wrong day intentionally and tore into her for it, but what if she didn’t? What if she got her dates mixed up?

It’s been over a decade since I’ve spent enough time aroundKate to observe her executive function when it comes to time management, but I remember when she was younger it was hard for her.

I feel a sucker punch of guilt. Kate hides her struggles that come with ADHD so well, I forget she has them. I shouldn’t. I, more than most people, know that hiding your struggles doesn’t make them disappear—it just makes them less visible to others. I know how lonely it gets when no one knows why I canceled plans or left early, when I’m a last-minute no-show at game night or I cut a meeting abruptly short because my brain’s decided it’s a great time to incapacitate me with a migraine.

“You didn’t mean to show up on the wrong day, did you?” I ask her.

She throws a sharp glance my way, her eyes flashing. “I...” Her jaw works, like she’s searching for words.

Stepping closer, I slip my hand around her elbow. “Katydid—”

“Stop calling me that, Topher Gopher.”

I grin faintly, remembering that nickname from a long time ago, when I hadn’t quite grown into my front teeth. “I’m sorry I assumed you pulled a prank. How about I make it up to you with that fancy catered lunch you had Curtis order?”

“Just have him cancel it,” she mutters.

“Nah. We can afford a catered lunch here and there.”

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