“Oh, sweetie, it must’ve been our eyesight.” Faye takes her sister’s tea and sips it.
“Can’t see without our glasses.” Wilma lifts hers off her nose, folds her arms, and lets them settle against her shirt.
There’s silence.
A long, painful silence. I’m tempted to intervene with a no hard feelings comment, and mistakes happen.
But I don’t.
I wait. Wait for her next move.
Why?
I have no idea. I was damn well ready to get her out the second I heard her. But now, now that I realize this was an accident, I’m intrigued to see how it plays out.
The hostess’s eyes flicker from her to me and back again during this long silence.
I’m almost enjoying it.
A lot.
Finally, Shay turns slowly to face me.
Her expression is pure vindication.
“See?” There’s not an ounce of regret in her tone. “I didn’t just wander in here on purpose.”
I clutch the pillow, trying to hold back a grin. “I believe you.” My tone suggests otherwise.
She catches it.
Her eyebrows lift, and an irritated smirk tugs the corner of her lips. “It was a misunderstanding.”
“I agree.”
Her whole body turns now, hands on her hips. “Your tone says otherwise.”
“My tone is perfect.”
“Perfectly skeptical.”
I can’t help but grin a little, though I try to hide it. It’s true. It is. I believe her, but this is fun.
Why is this fun?
“Was it?” I ask. “Perfectly skeptical?”
She steps a fraction closer, tilting her head like she’s daring me. “You’re never going to admit it.”
“Admit what?”
“That you were wrong.”
“Wrong?”
“You were completely off base.”
“Off base?” I lean my hip against the desk and pretend to consider it.
