She shrugs and returns to frowning at the cookies she’s decorating in front of her. “Hey.”
“How are you?” I ask carefully.
Another shrug. I hate shrugs. “Fine. Just...working.”
“You weren’t at the bakery,” I say, trying not to make it a question.
Another shrug.Oh my god.“Just need a break.”
“So you came to bake elsewhere,” I muse, and she’s silent. “Natalia, talk to me,” I beg quietly, taking a few steps. “What’s going on in your head?”
“Hair net,” she murmurs and jerks her chin toward it.
I reach for it with a sigh and put it over my hair before I goto stand beside her. “Tell me what’s going on in your head now, please.”
She shakes her head. “Nothing.”
“Nothing is happening in your head?”
“Nope.” She pops thePand smiles up at me, a fake and exhausting smile. “Nothing.”
“Don’t do that with me,” I say immediately. She should know better at this point than to lie to me—or try to. Every attempt she makes only gets worse.
She sighs, flexing her hands twice and shaking them out. “Um, fine,” Natalia murmurs. “I want to say sorry.”
I blink, my brows furrowing tight. “Oh? For what?”
“The way I treated you…that night. I was…I was being mean.” She shakes her head like she utterly hates herself. That or she’s completely disappointed in everything that occurred. “I was…”
“You went into hiding,” I blurt. “You do that a lot.”
“I went into hiding?”
I clear my throat quietly and nod, leaning back against the table. “You shut down with me,” I say gingerly. “Why?”
Natalia’s lips tug at the corner into a frown, followed by a shrug. “Do you regret it yet?”
“No,” I say. “Never.”
“Right,” she drawls, not believing a word I say.
I cross my arms over my chest, my fingers digging into my upper arms—using the pressure to calm myself down. Natalia picks up the piping bag and resumes her skillful cookie decorating.
“There’s somewhere I want to take you,” I say.
I watch her throat work as she swallows, her arms falteringas she draws a steady line on the circular cookie. “Oh,” she rasps. “Um—Where?”
“Come with me? Please?”
Natalia sets down the piping bag after finishing the final cookie and finally sighs— surrenders. “Fine. Where?”
The tips of my lips twitch with something of a small smile. “A movie at the drive-in.”
“The drive-in?”
“The Willow Springs Winter Drive In,” I say. “It happens every year.”
The Willow Springs Winter Drive-In has always been something our friend group loves. Even after Christian left, when we were all trying to help Lana get back up, we’d go together with blankets and takeout while we sat in the truck with the seats down, watching whatever movie was playing.
