“I know. But I also know you’re trying to start a business, and every little bit helps, right?” A slight frown pulls down on his lips, a wrinkle creasing his forehead. “I’m sorry, I definitely didn’t mean to overstep. That was kind of a dickish assumption, wasn’t it?”

A little tiny piece of my frozen heart melts. “Not at all. Thank you.” I hold up my cup. “And thanks for this. It’s perfect.” I open my mouth to finally ask the magic question, the one that will get him to reveal something of himself to me. I don’t know what said question is yet, but I’m sure it’s right there on the tip of my tongue.

But I don’t get the chance to ask it because there’s a knock on the door.

“Shit. I told Gemma she could come over so I can help her grade quizzes. Hope that’s okay.” I take my coffee with me over to the door, not wanting to separate myself from the much-needed caffeine.

“This is your house too, Sadie. You can have whoever you want over.” He grabs his own cup of coffee and stands. “I’ll get out of your way.”

I turn to tell him he’s not in our way, and even welcome to join, but he’s already disappeared down the basement stairs.

“Is it possible for the eyeballs to physically bleed? Because there must be torrents of blood streaming down my face right now.” I throw down the red pen that’s been gripped in my hand for the past three hours and collapse into a heap, my head resting on top of the dining room table.

“Bitch, please, this is nothing.” Gemma continues to move through papers like some kind of high-speed teacher animatronic.

“How do you do this every weekend?” Sitting up, I bury the heels of my palms in my aching eyes.

“The pay is fantastic.” Gemma’s voice drips with sarcasm as she hands me a new stack of quizzes to grade.

“Where can I vote to give teachers all the raises? Like every raise. You guys should be paid like goddamn CEOs.”

“Preaching to the super-broke choir, my friend.” She shoots me an evil smile. “Aren’t you glad you now live within walking distance and can help me whenever I need it?” She finishes up the essay she’s grading, marks a score at the top of the paper, and moves on to the next. You’d think our piles would be smaller after all this time, but I swear, they must be self-multiplying, because the stacks just keep providing us with new torturous papers to grade.

“Damn. Are you guys still working?” Jack emerges from his basement cave for the first time since I let Gemma in. “Should I make some more coffee?”

“Yes,” we both say at the same time.