The last group date was a talent show, with each of the contestants showing off a special talent. Alexis was glad she didn’t have to participate. Birdie had read an excerpt from theMidnight Library,a book Alexis had read herself a month after its release and loved. Louise had performed a haunting piece of contemporary dance that involved more floor work than Alexis thought possible. Bianca had sung a song by Halsey, her voice angelic and spellbinding, and Lyra had juggled the contents of a fruit bowl.
Then there was the one-on-one date with Lyra, a starlight dinner on the terrace, and a three-course meal cooked up by Michelin-star chef Vincent Elinburg. Another one with Louise, which had involved a truffle-hunting excursion. Alexis had become best friends with Gaston, the German Shorthair Pointer, and would’ve taken him home if his owner had allowed it, which she did not, even after Alexis had begged. And then a trivia night where Bianca and Alexis had been paired up and dominated the other contestants.
And yet through it all, there was Birdie. Always Birdie. The bookstore owner threaded through Alexis’s thoughts like the twinkle lights on her apartment’s balcony. She couldn’t turn her thoughts off. And when she did, when she managed not to thinkabout Birdie, it was only because Birdie was standing right in front of her, or talking to her, or laughing at something Alexis said. It didn’t even matter that they were hardly ever alone. They’d found ways to fit in a quick glance, a sneaky touch, a quick hello in the hallway before being interrupted.
And then, of course, Alexis also felt intense guilt for having those feelings when she should be giving each contestant a fair shot, and then even more guilt for doing the exact opposite of what she should be doing. Her plan for redemption was a tiny step away from self-sabotage.
One would think Alexis’s mood would be wrecked with all the guilt and stress, but it wasn’t. The sun was shining, the morning air was fresh and breezy, and the smell of cappuccino muffins wafted from the kitchen, triggering nostalgia.
“Who baked?” Alexis said, stepping through the arched doorway. “It smells delicious.”
Birdie was in the kitchen. She was bent over the stove with sage-colored oven mitts covering her hands as she carefully lifted a tray of cappuccino muffins from the oven. The golden tops were steaming and slightly cracked. The smell was sweet and intoxicating.
But it wasn’t the muffins that froze Alexis; it was the fact that Birdie was wearing nothing but a black bikini top and a pair of denim shorts. Her hair was damp from what Alexis presumed was a swim in the pool earlier, and her shoulders were pink from the sun.
And suddenly Alexis wanted nothing more in this world than to press Birdie up against the fridge and kiss her until the magnets fell off. She wanted to taste chlorine and Birdie’s lip balm over and over again. She wanted to drag her hands along the small of Birdie’s back, splay her fingers along her ribcage, and trace her thumb at the swell of her breasts. But she couldn’t.Not now. Not while the other three contestants were in the living room.
Alexis could hear their laughter.
So, she hovered at the kitchen island instead, pretending to be entirely fascinated by the chrome-plated cooling rack Birdie was going to use for the muffins.
“I felt like something sweet,” Birdie said in a voice just loud enough to be normal. But her eyes were anything but. If they could talk, they’d probably say, take me right here on this countertop. Which, of course, Alexis would happily oblige to.
Birdie stuck the end of a wooden skewer into the center of a muffin. “I actually wanted to make double chocolate chip, but cappuccino was all I could get.” She pulled the skewer out and studied it before wiggling a muffin free from the pan. Alexis was too far away to see if the gooey swirl of batter still clung to the stick.
Alexis was relieved because her stomach was rumbling. “Cappuccino is perfect.”
“But not your favorite,” Birdie said, though it sounded more like a question.
“I don’t have favorites when it comes to muffins,” Alexis said. She winked, which made Birdie smile, and then walked to the fridge. “Do you know if Vivian has been in yet to give today’s itinerary?”
Alexis knew Vivian was only coming later, but she couldn’t think of anything else for small talk, and since she couldn’t kiss Birdie, or talk about the possibility of sex—there hadn’t been another opportunity for it since shower sex—then what else was there to say?
“Not yet,” Birdie said.
“I wonder what they’ve got planned for us today,” Alexis said, staring at the contents of the fridge. There were individually vacuum-sealed trays of salmon, tiny ramekins ofyogurt parfait layered with granola and pomegranate seeds, fresh microgreens in clear plastic containers, a row of perfectly peeled clementines, and bottles of sparkling water in every flavor. She didn’t reach for anything. She simply embraced the cool fridge air and tried not to think about the way Birdie’s bikini top hugged her breasts.
“Lyra thinks it might have something to do with the pool.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Because it’s only ten a.m., and it’s already like ninety degrees out. You should go for a swim. It’s very refreshing.” Birdie raked her fingers through her damp hair, then let her hand drift down her neck.
Alexis didn’t think she would do it, hoped it even, but then, dammit, she did. Birdie traced the hollow just above her own collarbone with her fingers, and then drifted them down, skimming over the swell of her chest, feather-light and impossibly deliberate.
It was enough to make Alexis’s pulse spike. It was enough to make Alexis lose all inhibitions and risk everything, just to kiss Birdie.
But then a voice rang from the living room, “Alexis!” Alexis’s blood turned cold.
Vivian walked into the kitchen a second later. She was wearing an ivory-colored blouse tucked into high-waisted beige trousers. Her hair was sleeked back at the sides, so it looked like she was sporting some sort of fashionable mohawk. “Can I have a word?” she said, looking at Alexis. She wasn’t smiling. In fact, her face was so deadpan Alexis felt like she’d walked into a hurricane and the eye was staring right at her.
“I’ll leave you two alone,” Birdie said, already backing away from the countertop. But then Vivian held up her hand, and Birdie froze on the spot. “I need to speak to both of you.” She gestured toward the doorway leading into the hallway, andAlexis couldn’t help but go to the worst-case scenario. What was the worst-case scenario?
Alexis and Birdie followed her into the dining room. Vivian headed toward a tan leather chair with a walnut frame but didn’t sit down. She turned toward them with her hands clasped neatly in the middle, and her gaze hard and cold. Alexis felt like she was under a microscope.
And it soon became clear that she was.
“Is something going on between the two of you?” she asked.
