I blink down at a glaring May.
“What the hell are you talking about? What’s ‘not cool’ about saying I find her attractive?”
Let’s be real. It was a hell of a lot more sincere than her answer, which I can guess was to put March in his place. Not that I don’t approve; anytime someone can accomplish taking hishuge ego down a peg, I’m all for it. But I don’t want to be the weapon used to do it. Just remembering Penelope’s little statement of “fact” made me twitchy.
May huffs in exasperation. “August, she’s the only person in the room not related to you! It would be full-on weird if you said anyone else.”
What?
Oh.
Right.
Shit.
Was that why she seemed to wilt? Put that forced smile in place? I couldn’t figure it out at the time. But now?
I rub a hand over my face and then flinch when I realize it’s wet and soapy. Scowling I accept the dish towel May tosses me. “I didn’t mean it like that. I was trying to be nice.”
“Patronizing is what it was.”
Turning back, I concentrate on scrubbing the platter. But my guts feel like lead. “Honestly, May. That wasn’t my intention.”
“Well, then...” She peers at me with cool eyes. “If you say so, then I guess...”
“I should apologize to her.”
“No!”
“Jesus, woman. My ears.”
She sets a fluttering hand on my arm, as if to forestall any attempt I might make to leave the room, and her voice goes back to the stage whisper she’s been using since sneak attacking me. “Just. No. That would make it even more awkward.”
“I don’t see how. You just told me I’ve made her feel like crap. I can’t let that go.”
“I shouldn’t have said anything to you.”
I give her a speaking look, then hand her the clean platter to dry off. “But you did.”
“Just forget it.”
“Not likely.”
“Damn it, Augie.” She huffs, glances back to make sure we’restill alone. “I wasn’t thinking, okay? If you hunt her down to say sorry it will embarrass her even more.”
“Why? I’m the one who’d be apologizing.” I wouldn’t exactly call that an embarrassing endeavor, but uncomfortable sure. How would I even go about it?Sorry, Penelope, but I really do think you’re gorgeous. You’re so pretty it hurts to look at you, which pisses me off in ways I don’t understand. So can you kindly leave before I do something to make it even more awkward?
Beside me, May takes her frustration out on the dishrag. “Because... I don’t know. Somehow, you’d bumble it and make things worse, I guess.”
Probably. I’m apparently on a roll tonight.
She rubs her forehead like there’s a headache blooming. “Just, let it go, okay?”
“I don’t understand you at all sometimes, May.”
“Well, right back at you.” Her nose wrinkles. “Usually it’s March we have to lecture. But you’ve been acting clueless all night. What gives, anyway?”
I stare down at the sink where dying bubbles circle the drain. The panic that’s been trying to hitch a ride on my back since I signed my contract comes swooping back. I follow one stubborn soap bubble with my eyes and try to breathe. Part of me feels like I’ll go right down that drain with the soap if I’m not careful.
