“You’re perfect just the way you are,” Xavier told her firmly.
She didn’t reply. Because that just wasn’t true.
“Juliet,” he said in a low voice. “I want you to repeat this after me. I am perfect the way I am.”
“Xavy,” she sighed.
“Uh-uh. Don’t Xavy me. Repeat it.”
“I am perfect the way I am.”
“With more conviction.”
“I am perfect the way I am.”
“Good girl, now what’s going on? You look upset.”
She bit her lip.
“Twink,” he warned. “Stop chewing on your lip. Tell me.”
“Just tired of my job, I guess. And Gladys. The bitch.”
“Language,” Xavier scolded. “What did she do?”
“Nothing much.”
“Twink. Tell me.”
“Just her usual stuff. Talking down to me. Leaving me all the jobs I hate. Being a regular old meanie-pants.”
Whoops. She hadn’t meant to say it like that.
Xavier frowned. “Have you told Darin?”
She snorted. “What use would that be? Her nose is brown from sucking up to him.”
“Juliet!” He tried to sound horrified, but she saw his lips twitching.
“I should put salt in her coffee,” she told him.
“Or glue on her chair,” Xavier added.
“Ooh, good one, Xavy.” Just talking to him was making her feel so much better.
Then Xavier scowled. “I’m not happy about the way she treats you. And Darin should do something about her. Soon as we hang up, I’m calling the weasel.”
He was such a weasel. But she shook her head. “You can’t.”
“I can,” he countered.
Okay, she hadn’t expected this.
“It will make it worse. Trust me.”
“I don’t like it,” he stated. “Quit that job. It’s not making you happy and I hate when you’re not happy.”
So sweet.