If she only knew.
But the fact she didn't – well, that was my fault as much as hers, so I summoned up a friendly smile. "Oh, hey…you're home late."
It was a weak opening, but it was the best I had. I didn't ask where she had been, because I knew already. Obviously, she'd been working overtime at her bike rental shop, which had surely closed hours ago.
So was it any wonder she looked like she'd crawled home from the trenches?
She didn't return my smile. "And just imagine if I'd had to walk."
Oh, God. The bike.
My stomach dropped as I recalled that early this morning, I'd swiped her personal bike by mistake. To me, it felt like a lifetime ago, but to Maisie, the irritation was still obviously fresh.
"Oh, gosh," I said, already fumbling. "You're still mad about the bike, huh?" She had every right to be, and I suddenly recalled that she had never responded to my final text message, the one letting her know that the bike I wassupposedto be using was perfectly fine.
Maybe she thought it was lost? Or stolen?Quickly, I added, "Didn't you see my text?"
She reached toward her pocket. "I saw the one. Was there more?"
"Yeah, but I'll just tell you." I gestured vaguely toward the back of the house. "The loaner bike… it's in the back entryway."
Her hand froze. "Why there?"
Because I was an idiot?Judging from her face, she knew this already, so I stuck to the facts. "That's where I left it. I forgot. It was dark this morning when I left for work." I winced. "Want to hear something funny?"
She didn't. I could tell.But polite as always, she said, "Sure."
"I didn't even realize I grabbed the wrong one until I went outside for lunch." I gave a little laugh, hoping I didn't sound as pathetic as I felt. "Anyway…sorry for the mix-up."
Her mouth was tight as she said, "Don't worry about it."
I felt awful."It won't happen again. Promise." I meant it, too.
For a full month, I had been "renting" one of her shop bikes for free.
It hadn't beenmyidea. She had offered, insisting it was fine and that I didn't need to pay. But I still worried, especially now, as she gave me a wary look, like if she wasn't careful, I'd be swiping her bike every day.
I scrambled to reassure her. "Seriously, I'll set an alarm. Or tie a ribbon to the handlebars or something."
Finally, she gave me something that was almost a smile. "It's fine, really. But I'm surprised you're still awake."
"Oh." I hesitated. Was it abadsurprise?From her tone, I couldn't be sure. "I'm guessing…you wanted some time alone?"
"No, not at all," she said too quickly.
It was a lie – one of those polite little lies she'd been telling me for weeks. And now, I didn't know what to say.
So I said nothing as she turned and headed toward the kitchen. She was nearly there when a new panic rose in my chest.Oh, my God.
First the bike and now…
Damn it.
I had to give her a heads-up. Wincing, I reluctantly called out, "Oh, by the way…I finished off the Moscato."
She froze.She didn't turn back. She didn't say a single word. She just stood there, like she was trying to find a polite way to scream.
I rushed to add, "But don't worry. I'll grab a new bottle tomorrow."
