KNOT: A Wake Family Novel by M. Mabie Read Free Book Online Page B

lame. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s a great party—I made sure of that. I just thought we might have a conversation. Pass some time.” As she spoke, her eyes scanned the room like they had before. Like clockwork, they made their rounds.
    She’d went from cautious to sociable in seconds.
    She’s more manic than I am.
    Her wanting to talk to me didn’t change my mind though, I knew better. It wasn’t a good idea. It only solidified my reasons for moving along.
    However, inwardly, I checked asks for what she wants off some arbitrary checklist.
    Yes, I like power, but there was also value in knowing what someone needed from me. It was efficient, and directness was something I valued.
    I trouble-shooted the situation.
    “I’m sorry. I thought you said you were here with someone.” I pretended there was an opportunity, an opening for just enough reason to ignore she wasn’t alone.
    Maybe they were only friends.
    Maybe they were related.
    Yes. Possibly she was there with a sibling or parent. I hadn’t considered any of that at first. Hope plumed.
    “I am, but I’ve been working, and they’re off socializing. To be clear with you; we’re only talking.” She blinked and crooked her head showing me something entirely contradictory to what I’d first assessed of her. She was vulnerable, and if she wasn’t, she did a good job of appearing that way as she pinned me with a hint of longing in her eyes. Her finger traced the crystal rim of her wine glass.
    “What if he doesn’t like that we’re only talking? I’m here for business. I’m sure you understand.”
    “I do, and remember I am working, but I don’t think you understand what I said.”
    Was it a riddle?
    She nodded for me to come back, quickly tipping her chin up as she looked around the room and found what she was looking for. I watched her wink at someone, and I turned to find the recipient.
    Just then, I saw a beautiful blond woman, who was on the arm of a man, wink back. She leaned into him and said something, then he raised his glass and winked back at Nora.
    “My lovers.”
    She was right. I didn’t understand. And lover was so ambiguous.
    Was she there with the guy?
    Was she there with the woman?
    Had she said lovers, plural?
    Fuck. Was she an escort?
    So many possibilities ran through my mind. When I faced Nora again, she repeated her come-hither head nod, conspiratorially. She had me at a sure disadvantage, but I was too curious not to bite.
    I laughed through my confusion, and in turn, she bit her lip to hide her smile as if she found my expression humorous.
    Was she toying with me?
    I wouldn’t be the next joke for her to use her phony laugh on.
    I could be direct, too. “Okay, you’ve got me. Who are you here with?”
    It was forward, and there was a very good chance that I’d simply misheard—or misunderstood—everything she’d told me. But there weren’t very many ways what she’d said could have been taken.
    She turned back to face the bar and away from the eyes that watched us from across the room. Eyes who belonged to a tall, slender man with blond hair and the pretty woman.
    “I’m here with them.”
    Them.
    I tipped back the fresh Heineken the bartender handed me, thirsty again, and it bought me some time before I had to speak. When you have issues like I do, time buys everything.
    Everything .
    I am quick on my toes, but speed and efficiency can easily be confused. Saying the right thing means I seldom backtrack, seldom don’t get my point across accurately. When you speak to as many people on a daily basis as I do, and you manage your anxiety, you learn an extra moment for thought doesn’t really waste anything. It allows you to not only sound thoughtful but be thoughtful. As I leisurely took a second drink, I thought to myself about how the term them should be interpreted.
    It’s possible her lover wasn’t one of them exactly, and that maybe four of them were there together? Although, they looked pretty—what’s