“No.” Rosie’s hand covered her mouth. I wasn’t sure if it was to hide her shock or to finish chewing her breadstick in the shape of a broom. “After this meeting, Olivia and I will go out to Miller’s farm and take care of him, Sylvie-style.”
“You bet we will,” Olivia agreed. “I know where Sylvie keeps all her old CIA toys, including the experimental ones that failed testing.”
Rosie clenched my hand in hers. “Do you want Miller to wake up glued into a ski suit ten degrees from the Equator, or would you rather he sneeze every time he says the wordno?”
“Or,” Olivia added, “have massive digestive upset whenever he puts on shoes?”
Rosie nodded. “Whilefinding himself in a small Amazonian colony of pygmy nudists who are looking for a new sun god?”
“None of that.” I wanted to laugh, but the energy required to do so wasn’t there. “I actually broke up with him.”
The two sisters exchanged a surprised look. Yes, I broke up with a guy. It should probably be added to the Bible as a sign and wonder, a miracle of epic impossibility.
“But Miller’s wild about you,” Rosie said. “I mean he madly, madly adores you.”
“I don’t think he does.” Tears plopped onto my novel, and I swabbed them away. “Let’s talk about this later.”
“As soon as this meeting’s over,” Olivia said, “you’re ours. You don’t leave until we have heard every torrid detail.”
While I had plans to ditch the meeting early, I did find myself craving time with my sisters. “I love you two.” I needed to be around people who I knew loved me—the kind of love I never had to doubt or question. Also the kind of people who would risk lifetime imprisonment to carry out revenge on my behalf.
“We love you more, Hattie.” Rosie enveloped me in her arms, then Olivia joined in.
“A show of paws of who enjoyed this novel?” Sylvie asked, her face looking quite satisfied as nearly every hand rose. “Wonderful. Let’s dive into the meatier topics. First, rate the love scenes on a scale of one to heat rash…”
“Nuh-uh.” Frannie shook a long fingernail. “Not enough antibiotic ointment at the Walgreens to put up with all that fur.”
“This is a fantasy world,” Sylvie reminded her. “You don’t have to worry about that.”
Frannie tossed back her cup of punch. “That witch is gonna have to alakazam herself lots of lint rollers, is all I gotta say. Dude must shed like ten cats in a windstorm.”
Olivia leaned toward me. “We thought you adored Miller right back. What happened?”
“It’s complicated.”
She pointed to her e-reader. “This romance was complicated. Surely you didn’t break it off because he chewed up your magic wand or howled at midnight?”
“I wish it were that simple,” I said. “Miller’s moving back to San Francisco.”
“What?” Olivia’s eyes flashed fire.
“Girls,” Sylvie snipped. “Please keep your chitchat to a minimum. We are discussing a very heart wrenching plotline.”
“So are we,” Rosie countered.
Sylvie’s blond eyebrows rose, but she carried on her discussion. “Ada Pearl, please read the passage you referenced. My granddaughters will zip it and be properly enthralledas the text demands.”
“Miller sold his company three years ago,” Rosie whispered. “I don’t understand.”
“He sold his product,” I said. “The company still exists. Apparently he has a whole think tank with other geniuses, and they come up with innovative things for him to invest in.”
Rosie nudged her shoulder against mine. “He seemed pretty invested in you.”
“I think it all happened too fast.” I pushed a cookie around my plate. “I should’ve known better than to have trusted it.”
“Nonsense,” Rosie said. “We know what we saw.”
“Girls!” Sylvie stood and glared over the heads of her forty or so attendees. “Is your side conversation relevant to our book?”
