‘Iamnormal,’ Mae said stiffly.
Callie stared at her. ‘You were off with Emma today.’
‘I didn’t have anything to say to her.’
‘It’s not like you’ve never met her. You spoke to her last week.’
‘That was different.’
‘How?’
Mae pulled the apron strings tight, the fabric bunching. ‘She was a waitress last time. You know what you’re supposed to say to a waitress. “Please.” “Thank you.” “Do you have any sugar packets?” It’s different now.’
‘How?’ Callie asked once more.
‘She’s… in your life,’ Mae stuttered.
Callie froze. ‘It was only a first date.’
Mae opened her mouth, closed it, and shook her head. ‘Forget it.’
‘No,’ Callie insisted. ‘You’re judging me.’
Mae’s head whipped to look at her. ‘Judging you?’ she asked, incredulous. ‘Why would I judge you?’
‘I don’t know!’ Callie threw up a hand. ‘But you’re acting like I’ve done something…. Emma’snice. And she likes me. And I like her. And if you can’t deal with that—’
‘I didn’t say that,’ Mae cut in, too fast.
‘Then what is this?’ Callie demanded. ‘Because you’re looking at me like…’
Callie couldn’t finish the sentence. The end of it frightened her too much.
A long moment stretched. Mae didn’t speak. Then she stood abruptly, the crate wobbling beneath her. ‘We open early tomorrow,’ she said, voice thin. ‘I need to get things prepped.’
‘It’s Sunday! You’re not even open!’
But Mae was already moving towards the door at a pace.
Callie stayed where she was, the evening air suddenly too cold on her skin.
Something was wrong. And Callie couldn’t understand it. They’d always talked about everything. Boys, school, future plans, everything.
So why couldn’t they talk about this?
Thirteen
Now
Mae’s mouse pointer hovered over the first episode ofKey to My Heart. The thumbnail alone made her want to close the laptop and go back to reading ingredient lists on wholesale websites.
But the tiny hand kept pointing at the bright colours and glamorous idiots. Mae pressed play. She didn’t know why. Or maybe she did.
The opening minutes were everything she expected: loud, chaotic, full of girls making wild claims about what they’d do to land Sam Grey. Which was crazy to Mae, considering that he seemed exactly as dull as his name suggested.
But then Callie appeared on screen, meeting Sam for the first time. It was the Callie of today, thirty, sleek, groomed to within an inch of her life. Expensive hair, expensive clothes, perfectly coiffed.
Mae felt the old picture rise in her mind: Callie at seventeen. Still very good-looking, annoyingly so, but the kind of good-looking that knew it didn’t need much enhancement. A dash of mascara, maybe some lip gloss, and she was good to go.
