The final book in the trilogy of YN x Scarlett Johansson books.
The family are finally starting to heal following the apparent death of Scarlett's wife, Y/N. But is all as it seems? Does the mess get any less tangled?
Me: You're staying for dinner. Scarlett: I should probably g... Me: Ken, make sure catering know to add one more. Kennedy: Yep, already done. Me: Merci mon ami. Scarlett: Y/N.
I turn around, realising I'm rushing around.
Scarlett: I don't think it's a good idea that I stay here. If it's really as unsafe as you keep saying, don't you think I should go back to New York? Me: No. On thinking about it I actually think you're safer here. There are NSA agents literally everywhere with a 24 hour around the clock security team on the surrounding the house just in case. What happens if they found out who you visited today? You can't leave. Scarlett: And I agree, but I have 3 kids waiting at home, wondering why I'm not coming back when I said I would. Me: Then bring them here. Scarlett: You know I can't do that. Me: They'd be safe here. They're not safe on their own. I know they won't understand, and maybe they'll never speak to me again, but I just want them to be safe. America is probably the worst place they could be right now. Scarlett: I can't bring them here, I need to protect them yes, but they can't be around you. I'm sorry.
Don't get me wrong, that hurts, a lot. But I get it.
Me: Yeah, yeah I understand. Kennedy: I can make sure there's 24/7 security. Let me link up with Jack, should be fine though.
Scarlett sighs and rests her forehead on her fingertips.
Scarlett: I think this is all just catching up on me. Me: I can go eat somewhere else if you need some space? Scarlett: Do you mind? Me: No, not at all. Hey Mark? I'll take mine to go, thanks.
The head chef, Mark, nods and smiles, before starting to pack my dinner into a tray.
Scarlett: I feel bad. Let me take that one, I'll go elsewhere for dinner. Me: It's fine, I'll just go sit in the recording studio. Scarlett: No, please let me.
She goes to take the tray, but I grab her hand, holding it for a minute, before she pulls away.
Me: I'll go, you stay. I insist.
I grab the tray of dinner from the counter top, then head down into the basement, placing my dinner on the desk and eating in silence.
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Once I've finished, I leave the tray next to the door to remind me to take it back up, then pick up a guitar and slump on the couch in the centre of the room, playing quietly.
Kennedy: That's pretty good for fucked up human.
I laugh as Kennedy sits opposite.
Me: Have you come to gloat about how much she hates me? Let me guess, the 'I told you so' speech? Kennedy: I just came to see how my sister was. No gloating. Me: Never been better. Does that satisfy you? Kennedy: You know it doesn't. Me: Well it's the only answer I've got for you, sorry to disappoint you. So if you came to give me a pep talk then you're wasting your time. Kennedy: I'm just here as a friend, Y/N. She went upstairs crying. I think she's a little overwhelmed, she went to your room. Me: She did? Kennedy: Yeah, she wanted to see where you'd been spending your time. Me: When I go up there she'll be sound asleep, you know that right? I'll have to sleep on the couch in the there. Kennedy: Meh, it's your bed. I'd sleep in it regardless. Me: That's being disrespectful, so yeah, I'd understand you saying that. Kennedy: It's like an Emperor sized bed, I'm sure you'll have enough room. And hey, just because I sleep around it doesn't mean I'm disrespectful. And sometimes it's for work purposes. Me: Good to know. Okay, as much as this conversation is riveting, I'm gonna go and make sure she's okay. Kennedy: Let me know how that goes. Oh, here.
