“You don’t have any creamer,” she comments.
I scratch the back of my neck. “Yeah, I like it black. But I think there might be some sugar in the cupboard if you want some.”
She flips a piece of bacon on the stove and then turns to face me, a smile unfurling across her lips. “The one with the candles in it or…”
Never going to let me live that one down, I see.
“I thought you were the one with the habit of going through other people’s cupboards?” I tease.
“Something you still haven’t thanked me for, by the way.”
At this point, that’s a long list that’s only growing. Last night being at the top of it. A subject she seems to be avoiding as her gaze returns to the stove.
She heaps two plates with bacon and strawberry jam–covered toast and sets them in Quinn’s and my usual spots at the table.
“You aren’t having any?”
“I wanted to make sure you both had breakfast before I left. Your sister asked me to come in to work early, and I need to go home and change first.”
The modest apron is doing too good of a job at hiding her black dress from last night.
“Yeah, Emma never has any fun. Doesn’t have any friends either from what I can tell.”
My sister graduated at the top of her class at Berkeley andapplied to every open law position in the Boise area. I never understood why she wanted to be close to home when it limited her options. Jason Ford, the partner of her boutique family law firm, hired her as his junior associate. It didn’t leave much time for anything but assisting with his caseload.
“Sounds like someone else I know.”
Touché.
“Well, thank you for breakfast.”
“It’ll cost you overtime.” She winks at me.
I owe her a hell of a lot more than overtime after she stayed the night on my couch. Money won’t fix the fact that I’m afraid it could happen again. I won’t put her in that position. This is a lot to ask of someone, but there’s only one way I can think to prevent it.
“Summer, I?—”
A shrill sound rings out. It takes me a couple of seconds to determine that it’s coming from my pocket. A squeeze of my temples is doing very little to dull the pounding in my head.
“It’s okay, you can answer it,” she says.
“Will you please stay until I’m finished with this? If you’re late to my sister’s office you can blame me.” I still haven’t asked my question.
Summer has never made me feel self-conscious about my appearance. If anything, it’s been the opposite. You don’t buy a shirt with a guy’s face on it if you’re not attracted to him. But that version of me is not this one she sees right now, hungover and unshaven. I suddenly feel self-conscious with her eyes bouncing around my face.
“Yeah. I’ll go check on Quinn.”
“Thanks,” I say, sweeping a hand through my hair for good measure. I doubt it did much. What I need is a shower and a nap.
I answer the call after she’s halfway up the stairs. “Hello?”
“You let that woman spend the night?!” Caroline shrieks through the speakerphone.
My brain fights to catch up as I hunt down the button I accidentally pressed when accepting the call. “It’s all over the news today” manages to come through too before I silence it.
“What were you thinking dragging Quinn through more drama?”
I pace the kitchen, putting it all together. The reporters must have seen Summer’s car parked in my driveway all night. It wouldn’t be the first time they made assumptions about my life. I’m sure whatever article they spun up is not surprising. At least not to me.
