Chapter Eighteen
By Sunday, Becca had turned into a basket case. She had trouble sleeping and found excuses to be too busy to deal with Mitch, still processing all he’d said and meant. And all she felt.
At the teahouse, just as they were about to close, she worked with Simon and Nora, having given the rest of the staff the weekend off. Snow fell outside, coming down in big, fat, fluffy flakes. The white powder covered the sidewalks and masked the bright Christmas lights strung over the trees lining the street.
“It’s like we’re in a Norman Rockwell painting,” Nora said as she stared through the front window.
Simon joined her, and Jenna joined him. Apparently, the girl needed even more volunteer time for the Honor Society.Yeah, right.She and Simon were holding hands.
Nora glanced at them, then looked back at Becca and raised a brow.
The last two customers drinking tea stood and left with a wave goodbye.
Becca smiled. “Hey, Simon, Jenna. Why don’t you two walk home? We have cocoa and marshmallows. And you can turn on the fire to warm it up for when I get home in a bit.”
The teenagers nodded and grabbed their jackets, not needing to be told twice. But before Simon left, he crossed to Becca. “Are you okay, Mom? You’ve been acting weird lately. Did Mitch say something to bother you?”
“No. Why is that the first thig everyone thinks when I look upset? Why does it have to be about Mitch? Maybe I’m stressed for other reasons.”
Simon took a step back. “Oh. It’s that time of the month. Sorry.”
“Simon,” she growled. “It’s not that time— Oh, go home!”
“Seriously, Simon.” Jenna shook her head. “You know better than to always think a woman’s on her period. Are you going to ask me thatwhen—notif—I get mad at you?”
He blushed. “No. Stop with all your lady talk. Ew.”
She laughed, and the pair left together.
“Then what is your problem?” Nora asked as she wiped down tables. “Because Simon was right. You’re acting like you’re on your period.”
“Mitch told me he loves me.”
Nora stopped, frozen. “Say that again.”
Becca blew out a breath. “He said he loves me. And he texted that to me too.”
“Oh my God. Seriously?” Nora squealed and raced over to hug her. “That’s great… Why are you looking like you’re going to cry?”
“I don’t know!” Becca sniffed. “I’m so confused, emotional—”
“Pregnant?”
“No!” Becca hated that she grew even weepier at the thought. “And I’m kind of sad because I’m not. God, what is wrong with me?”
“Honey, sit down.”
Becca let Nora lead her to a table.
“When Mitch told you he loved you, what did you say back?”
“Nothing. We just kissed some more…and did a few other things. He’ssogood in bed.” Becca sighed.
“Lucky bitch.”
“Nora.”
“Oh, shut up. I’m kidding. Mostly.” Nora grinned. “So, he told you he loves you. You gave him happy time.”
