Chapter 7: Terms

I took the mug.

My hand was steady, which surprised me.

"You told him," I said to Gray.

"Of course I told him." Gray bit his toast. "We've told each other everything since we were nineteen."

"Everything."

"That's the idea," Anson said.

He leaned back against the counter with his arms folded.

For the first time since I had met him, he looked unsure.

"Sit down, Daphne," he said. "Please."

I sat on a stool at the island, still in my nightdress and my mother's jacket, and drank his coffee.

It was perfect.

Josiah came in from the porch with wet hair and his glasses in his hand.

He saw me, and stopped.

"Good morning," he said, a little too carefully.

"Good morning."

"I'm going to get the milk," he said, and did not move.

"Josiah." Anson did not look away from me. "Tell her."

Josiah rubbed his eyes.

"We share things," he said. "The company. The building we live in. This house."

He put his glasses on.

"A bank account, which our accountant hates. And, in the past, when it came up, a woman."

My stomach dropped.

"You've done this before," I said.

"Twice," Gray said. "Years ago. Both times she knew from the start and agreed to everything. Neither of them stayed."

"Why not?"

"Pressure, I think," Josiah said. "Outside pressure. People talk."

"So you've decided to try it again with the girl who works at your desk."

"No," Anson said, flatly.

I looked at him.

"We didn't decide anything," he said. "I want you. Gray wants you. Josiah has wanted you since the lobby, and has told me so four times."

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