all are secretly hoping that Monday night, I am so distraught that I go next door and pound against Nero's chest and yell at him, and we have some sort of heart to heart before Tuesday, when the world is supposed to end.

No.

No such thing occurs.

But, like last time, Caleb is indisposed because yes, tomorrow they will find out the verdict, and I think all the guys at the law firm are having some kind of sad party where they say screw it and get drunk. I hope they have some fun before a judge tells them everything they have done thus far is in vain.

Oh, boo hoo. Yeah, they could find Mario innocent. Maybe. But right now I'm not in an optimistic mood. I can hope, but then it would hurt, wouldn't it, if my expectations were crushed with a big, heavy, ugly fist.

I'm still on my period. Stop judging.

Anyway, because my current state of mind isn't the sunniest, Natalia comes over to hang out. She gets here at seven and we bake cupcakes, because it's Monday, and the more time we spend together the more I realize that I really like her.

She's a little more dark and brooding than Shauna, but she has this kind of soft side, like she's secretly really sweet under all the armor. And she is not like Nero. Not one bit.

"So, I have a confession to make," I tell her while I'm icing the last cupcake, pulling the tip of the frosting into a perfect little peak.

"Spill." She's busy putting on a pot of coffee, admiring my way too expensive collection of freshly-roasted beans.

"So, even though your cousin is kind of a total lunatic..."

"Tell me something I don't know."

I start putting the cupcakes on the stand, keeping a few aside. "I started doing this to mess with his head, but, because I am the perfect neighbor," I pause, remembering that sometimes I have loud sex and am not so considerate. I hope she doesn't see the blush creeping up my neck. "I have this thing where I send cupcakes next door whenever I bake them. Pretty much every week."

"Seriously?" Her surprise is full of amusement. "Does he accept them?" I let her snatch one from the counter, and watch as she peels back the paper to reveal a perfect, perfect masterpiece.

"Of course. My cupcakes are like, the best in the world." I say it as she takes a bite, and I watch her eyes go wide at just how (have I said it before?) perfect it is.

She raises a well-shaped eyebrow, pointing at the little piece of chocolate heaven she has tucked between her fingers. "This is actually incredible." I give her a look like obviously, and she just shakes her head. "Nero does not deserve to eat these every week. You are either an angel or very, very smart, or just plain stupid."

"Definitely all of the above." I take my own bite, and the yumminess fails to surprise me.

She swallows a huge mouthful, rubbing a napkin across her pretty mouth. "Because, how could he ever be mean to you if you are so, irrationally nice to him?"

I nod my head. Someone gets it. "Right? That's the idea."

"Does it work?"

I pass her a couple of mugs, and she takes them over to the the percolator, pouring two steaming cupfuls. "I think it does. I mean, besides the obvious mess, I think he's gotten a little soft."

She snorts. "Yeah right. Soft my ass."

"Okay, maybe not soft, but like, less intense? He doesn't bother me, is I guess what I mean."

Oh, he bothers me. But not because he's mean.

"You're crazy."

"I'm serious."

She laughs. "Whatever helps you sleep at night." I take my coffee from her and then she gets this glimmer in her eyes, her lips shaping into a mischievous smirk. "So, how about, this time I give him his cupcakes?"

A chance to mess with him, because he's always messing with my head?

"Yes." My eyes are wide, totally loving it. "You have to. He would be so surprised." I can already imagine his face, the turmoil flashing through those dark eyes. Wouldn't he like that, if his estranged cousin and I were hanging out, becoming friends.

Some part of me hopes that all of these little things, the brief touches, the cupcakes, will make it harder for him to think about offing me if he needs to. Who knows. A girl can dream.

I pull out a plate for her, putting three beautiful cakes onto it. "I wish I could see his expression."

Her laugh is honest, full and kind. "I'll describe it for you with as much detail as possible."

She takes the plate into her hands, and if there is any apprehension in her eyes, I don't see it. "You guys aren't fighting or anything, are you? Because if this is gonna make it worse then you don't have to—"

"We're always fighting, Ros." She shrugs, and for a second I can see the way this kind of thing takes its toll, the way arguing can be so, so tiring. "It'll be nice to have some fun for a change."

And so, she goes. In my head, I try to imagine it. I imagine the look of confusion, followed by the angry purse of his lips and the curve of his dark brows. The way his shoulders will straighten and he'll get that tired expression, and when he looks into your eyes it will be like he can read your soul like a book.

Yeah, I guess by now I know him better than I should. Better than I ever should have let myself.

When she comes back, she looks smug and happy. "That was the funniest thing that has happened to me all week." She grins.

We plop ourselves onto the couch, coffee in hand, and she tells me about how he was surprised. Like, honest to goodness, truly surprised. More shocked than she has ever seen him. And then he snapped out of it, because he hates to show weakness, she says.

And then he, of course, asked her what the hell she was doing there. Because, as she tells me, she never, ever seeks him out. If they meet it's not because she ever initiates it, but because someone else does.

"And so I just say, 'I'm hanging out with Rosalyn,' like it's the most natural thing in the world, and he looks at me like I just grew an extra head."

I smile, picturing the expression of complete disbelief across his rotten, too-gorgeous-for-words face.

"And he didn't say anything, just stared, and then I held out the cupcakes and assured him that you made them, not me."

"And?"

"And he raised an eyebrow, like he was just so done with everything, like nothing surprises him anymore."

Oh, I know that look, that feeling. "And he took them?"

"Yup. He just took them. I was amazed."

I give her a what-did-you-expect kind of look. "He knows that they're delicious. Who could resist?"

She shrugs, her face full of wonder. "I don't know what it is, but it's like he was a little... resigned? Like, he's stopped fighting and is, well, I don't know." She gives me this curious expression, like I'm some kind of miracle worker. "I've never seen him so... subdued? Normal? Like, not about to yell at you or threaten you."

So that's what everyone else sees, huh? The cold, angry mobster. I don't know why (maybe I do, shut up) but I don't picture him like that. To me he's always just... confusing. Brooding and upset and frustrated and, well, he's just Nero. But I don't try to explain this to Natalia.

"So, you're saying that his expression was priceless and we achieved exactly what we wanted?"

A chuckle bubbles from her mouth. "Confusing the hell out of him? Yeah, we did."

So, mission accomplished, then. Maybe it'll make him less smug tomorrow when he gets the verdict he's been waiting for, but somehow I doubt it.

Later, before she leaves, she looks me in the eyes, serious and concerned. "Look, Rosalyn. Whatever happens tomorrow, just know that it's not your fault, okay?"

I've been kind of trying to ignore thinking about this, and she knows it. But she says it anyways, and I can appreciate that.

I give her a small, wry smile. "Okay."

"Okay."

And she goes, and I realize that somewhere during the course of the night we became friends. Real ones.

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