The nickname just slips out.
She notices, too.
“What? I'm serious,” she says.
“So am I.”
“No, I don’t think you're ever serious, Mr. Montego.”
“Fair. But call me Kai.”
Her eyes narrow further.
Behind her, Sabrina bites her lip.
Trying not to laugh.
“Fine. Kai, why are you here?”
I shrug.
“Thought I'd visit.”
“You don’t seem like the type who just visits. Are you thinking about entering the seminary as a second career?”
That is annoyingly provocative and somewhat accurate—not the priesthood part. The me not being a casual drop in kind of guy.
“Sorry, that’s a no to the collar, but maybe I can do better at the stopping by.”
“No.”
Ego actually snorts.
“You're not helping,” I tell him.
“I'm helping myself,” he replies.
Moron.
“Okay, um, I think we all know why this is happening. I-I’ll call Mr. Jonas later and figure something out.”
Mary remains standing there.
Staring at nothing.
Ego and Sabrina drift off into their own conversation, quietly discussing possible donors and alternative fundraising ideas.
But my eyes are locked on Mary.
They stay there.
Which is becoming a problem.
Because the woman is standing in a perfectly normal outfit.
A modest blouse.
A knee-length skirt.