Page 8 of Taking Adalisa (Montgomery Syndicate #2)

ADALISA

“ Y ou’ve got a package!” I yell when Margery walks through the door of the store.

“A package? Me? From who?” she asks as she makes her way toward me.

Her face turns pensive as if she’s thinking about something very serious. I’ve seen that look too many times on her. Margery is thinking about the day Ethan died and how she wasn’t there for him.

“Margery?” I call out. “Are you okay?”

Margery smiles at me and closes the distance between us. “So, does the package say who it’s from?” she asks, placing her handbag under the counter.

“It doesn’t,” I reply, looking down at the box.

Strange, but it wouldn’t be the first time a package has been dropped off by the courier with only a name on it. Normally, there is a dispatch note explaining the contents.

She looks at me, her eyebrows furrowed. “Then, how do you know it’s for me? It could be for you.”

“Silly! It has your name on it,” I reply sarcastically.

“Did somebody give it to you?” she asks, taking a step closer to me.

I hold the box out for her to grab. “Nope. It was sitting out front when I got here. Had your name on it. I figured they knew what time I got in and left it a couple of minutes before. Come on, open it!”

Margery tentatively grabs it from me and places it on the counter. “Today really isn’t the day. Maybe we can say it’s for you? I’m not expecting anything,” Margery gently says and sighs.

“Feeling unwell?” I worry.

“Thankfully, no, but I have no doubt I will at some point. It’s been a while since I was last ill. I hope I don’t get sick soon.” Margery looks down at the package in wonder.

“Just take some preventive medicine: multivitamin, vitamin C, zinc. Get ahead of it,” I list everything that I can think of to ward off a virus.

“I’m not going to do that. You know I don’t really like taking medicine. Not unless I absolutely have to.” She rolls her eyes.

“But it could help you.” I give her a knowing look.

I don’t like taking pills either, but I do if I’m feeling like I’m going to get sick. I can’t afford to get sick, not when I’m the only one to look after myself. I don’t have anyone else to rely on.

“Or I could just eat right, get enough sleep, exercise, and drink enough water,” Margery suggests.

I raise my hands in the air. “Okay. Okay. I’m not going to change your mind. That’s fine. Now, will you please open the package? It has your name in bold, and I want to know what it is.”

Margery exhales and turns the package around, her breathing stopping as she looks at her name.

“Well, are you going to open it?” I ask.

“Uh, yeah.”

Margery grabs a pair of scissors and cuts through the tape. I watch, trying not to hover to see what’s inside. It’s not my box, even though I want it to be. I never get any packages delivered to me. She pulls a multicolored zebra out of the box.

“Oh, my goodness. That is so cute! And look, it has your name embroidered on it!” I squeal. “Wait, what is that?”

I squint my eyes, trying to see if I’m really seeing what I think I am. That can’t be, could it?

“Is that a binkie?” I questioned.

“Do you know who gave it to you? And why would they put a binkie around the neck of the zebra?” I ask. “I know you said you’ve been on a couple of dates. Maybe one of them gave it to you. But the binkie wouldn’t make any sense.”

Margery nods but stays silent for a couple of minutes. “I don’t know. Maybe it could be one of them, but I don’t know,” she whispers. “I’m going to keep it though, just in case I see one of them again. Then, I can ask.”

“Why don’t you just message them?”

She shakes her head. “Not happening. I don’t want them to think that they need to send me gifts.

They also don’t know that I’m talking to multiple people.

I’m not dating any of them. They don’t know I’m keeping my options open.

And as for the binkie, I have talked about wanting kids.

Maybe one of them sent it as a ‘I want to have kids with you’ gift?

It is weird, and if I see one of them, I’ll ask if they bring it up. ”

I don’t really understand why she won’t just message them. It’s a simple question to ask. If they don’t, then she rules out who it might be. But it’s not my life so I can’t do anything about it.

“How was your date last night?” I ask as Margery puts the stuffed animal back in the box.

“It was all right, but the person was missing something,” Margery answers with a shrug.

“What do you think he was missing?” I inquire.

“I don’t know. He’s not the love of my life,” Margery says, sitting beside me. “I know. I know.”

“Nobody is going to be Ethan. You need to get that out of your head,” I tell her, looking at her sympathetically.

“I know, but it’s hard. I grew up with Ethan. We talked about getting married. We were going to get married,” she sighs.

I feel bad for her, I really do. “But now you can’t. It’s harsh, but someone needs to tell you. You need to stop comparing every man to Ethan. Because they won’t be Ethan, and you’re going to end up disappointed every single time.”

“I know. I’m trying to, but it’s so difficult,” Margery replies. “Let’s just get to work. We’ve got things to stock, and no doubt customers are going to be flocking in soon.”

“I have food for an Adalisa?” a man announces, walking into the store.

My eyebrows pinch together as I stand up. “Food? I didn’t order anything. I don’t eat food I don’t prepare so it can’t be for me.”

“I was told to come here with food for Adalisa. A man has already paid me and given me a tip. Have a good day.” He hands me the food and leaves.

I sit down and look at the bag in my hand. I know who it is. Out of spite, I want to not eat it, show him I don’t need him to take care of me, but my stomach has been grumbling all morning. Not having breakfast really left me hungry. The whole interaction with his mom threw off my morning.

“You ordered food and didn’t get me any?” Margery asks. “I would have paid you, you know that.”

I shake my head, still staring at the food sitting on the counter in front of me. “I didn’t order this.”

Margery sits beside me and smiles. “So, who bought it? I thought you didn’t know many people in New York.”

“I don’t,” I mumble.

When I open the bag, I see a note placed on top of the take-out container. I don’t dare pick it up, not wanting Margery to see the note and ask me a million questions. I’m not ready for them, not when I haven’t really been able to focus on anything this morning.

“Is it from the guy who sent you the bracelet the other day?” Margery asks. “Is he trying to make up for lost time? Wait!”

I look at her. “Wait, what?”

“Was he at your house last night? Did you guys do the nasty, and he didn’t allow you to eat breakfast, so now he’s giving you food as an apology?” Margery narrows her eyes at me.

“No, he wasn’t, and no he didn’t,” I brush it off.

She can’t know. There was no way Margery knows that Matthias was at my house this morning, that he woke me up to the best sex I’ve ever had. She can’t possibly know that. She doesn’t go out and eat very often, so she wouldn’t have seen me and Matthias together.

“Are you lying to me?”

I hate it when she asks me that. I’ve only lied to her a handful of times, but she always seems to know when I am. How? I don’t know, and it infuriates me. Maybe she has some type of superpower.

“No, I’m not,” I reply, keeping my voice calm and collected like it was before the delivery. “He wasn’t at my house last night.”

I’m not lying about that part. But the part about us having sex this morning and him not letting me eat breakfast—that was all a lie.

“Are you going to eat it?” she asks. “Or are you going to let it go to waste?”

“You have a lot of questions.” I look at her, exasperated.

Margery always has a lot of questions when it comes to anything with me. I love her, but sometimes she can get a bit overwhelming. Especially when it’s at work.

“Sorry, I’m just curious. You never go out and meet people, yet you want to find that right person for you.

I know you just went to the speed dating fiasco, but has anything else happened after it?

No,” Margery points out. “I’m just worried about you.

I want you to be happy, and sometimes I do have a lot of questions, but they come from the goodness of my heart,” she mutters at the end.

I sigh. “I know you do, and that’s why we are great friends. You don’t need to worry about my love life.”

Her eyebrows rise. “I don’t? Are you and this guy serious?”

“No!” I raise my voice. “Oh no. We are not. We are just friends. I wouldn’t even really consider us friends.”

I shiver at the thought of Matthias and I being serious. I don’t know whether it’s from pleasure thinking about it or genuine worry that it might happen, with or without my consent. But Matthias already thinks we are forever.

Margery’s shoulders slump. “Oh. I was really looking forward to meeting him. I was getting excited for you. Sorry, that sounds bad, but I want you to be happy. I want you to thrive and live your life. I don’t want you to always come into work and then go home. That is no way to live.”

I raise one eyebrow at her and wait for her to realize what she is saying, but she just looks at me. “Margery.”

“What… Oh,” she whispers.

“Yeah, oh. You want me to be happy and not only work and go home, but you literally described your life,” I tell her. “I’m not trying to be rude, but—girl—you are literally talking about yourself as well. Do you not want what’s best for you as well?”

She lifts her hands in frustration. “That’s why I’ve been going on a couple of dates. I’m trying to get back out there.”

“And I am super proud of you,” I praise her honestly. “When you told me you were, I jumped up and down in my apartment.”

Silence rings out around us, and I look back at my food. It smells so delicious.

“Why don’t you go into the back room and eat it? I’ll watch over the shop.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Go and eat breakfast from the man you aren’t seeing,” she giggles.

“Brat,” I mutter as I stand, grabbing the food and making my way to the break room.

One thing Matthias and his mother saved me from this morning was eating in front of people. While I can do it, I don’t really like doing it. The stress of people seeing you take a bite… yeah, no, I can’t do it. That’s one of the reasons why I don’t eat out.

Too many eyes watching.

Once I flop onto the couch in the break room, I take the note out.

Matthias

Eat breakfast. My mother made it especially for you and felt bad that you didn’t have anything to eat this morning. Enjoy, and we’ll talk later.