Never An Angel

Twelfth

     "Does it bother you that I haven't found a job?"

     Magdalen heard the question, kept her face neutral, and held back a heavy sigh. She turned the page of the magazine she was skimming, the paper turning translucent beneath her fingers thanks to grease. "No." She cleaned her hands with a napkin. "Why would you ask that?"

     Petra wiped her mouth and pushed away her plate. "Because you've been avoiding me more and more lately."

     "It certainly isn't because you're unemployed."

     "Don't get smart with me." Petra snatched the magazine and threw it to the other end of the table. "You won't even look at me during dinner anymore."

     Magdalen brought her arms to herself. She slid her eyes over to her scattered magazine, slid them back to Petra, slid them down. She paused. "You're upset."

     "No shit, Magdalen. What the hell is going on?"

     "Well it sounds to me like you're insecure and are-"

     "That's not what I mean. What's going on with you? You've been completely checked out for over a week."

     Magdalen blinked, then she swiped her finger across her plate to gather some sauce. She sucked it from her finger. She couldn't stress the point enough- if there was one thing she loved about having Petra around, it was that Petra was a fantastic cook. "It's work," she said. "I'm stressed."

     Petra narrowed her eyes. She said nothing for a minute. "That's it? Work?"

     "Mhm." The threat of death, discovery, the failing of all of her business. All of it stressed Magdalen, but now that stress increased ten-fold because she was once again aware of how she was treating Petra. She was supposed to be a better girlfriend and yet was acting far worse. Just another thing to add to her list of things she was horrific at.

     "Are you working more because I'm not?"

     Magdalen sighed, unable to hold it back any longer. "No. It has nothing to do with you. You're fine. And... I apologize, okay? I hadn't realized I was neglecting you."

     Petra's mouth shifted funnily. Her eyes reflected the want for a fight, but her expression was utterly exhausted. "I want to be mad at you."

     "Okay."

     "But I can't be if you're sorry."

     "Okay."

     "Is it really just work? Honestly?"

     "Honestly." Magdalen licked her lips then wiped her mouth. She heard the pleading in Petra's voice and chose to ignore it because of the way it was making her feel. "Thank you for dinner. It was delicious."

     "Well... Alright. You're welcome. Hey, and we still need to talk about our Christmas plans. You're not getting out of it."

     Magdalen's phone buzzed in her pocket and as she check it she said, "Fine. We'll talk about it." She deleted the text Murello had sent then checked her email only because she had been warned to. Nico was trying to get into contact with her. "But right now I have business." She looked up and saw how Petra's expression was upset, sad, unsure, and vaguely furious. "It won't take long. Afterward we can do something. How about we go out?" she suggested.

     Petra's upset turned to suspicion. "Out? Where? Why?"

     "Anywhere you want. I think we need it, and that you'd like it."

     "Dinner? A restaurant of my choosing?"

     Magdalen stood and shoved her phone back into her pocket. "Yes and yes. If I'm late you can be mad at me the way you want." She walked around the table to lean down toward Petra's cheek, then pecked it when Petra tilted her head up. "I'll be back."