Iggy had given me an almond milk latte without asking.
“I see,” Amelia said, accepting the coffee and perching on the counter in the same spot I had on my first day here.
I leaned against the wonky table, the short leg clacking on the tiles as it tilted under my weight. After a moment of clutching my coffee to my chest as though it was my favorite stuffed animal, I gathered the courage to speak again.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
It wasn’t that I was bad at apologies, exactly. Just that I wasn’t used to screwing up this often.
One more thing I’d have to learn to live with.
Amelia waved me off with a wry smile. “I’ve already forgiven you. Apology appreciated, though,” she said, the bag rustling as she reached into it. “As is breakfast. Have you eaten?”
I opened my mouth to lie, then shook my head.
“Eat,” Amelia said, offering me the bag. “We’re not having this talk on an empty stomach.”
“We’re having a talk?”
Amanda’s brow rose again. I could almost seedon’t arguewritten along the arch of it.
“Eat.”
I took one of the doughnut balls out of the bag, sugar crystals instantly coating my fingers. They really did smell good, and Iwashungry. I’d been too focused on having to set things right with Amelia to eat.
And I was used to black coffee for breakfast. The almond milk was almost too rich for me.
Amelia made an obscene sound as she bit into one of the doughnuts, closing her eyes and wriggling in place on the counter. “If Iggy’s husband wasn’t gay…”
I snorted. “Half the town seems to be?”
“I know at least three or four straight people,” Amelia said.
“Which accounts for the other half.”
Amelia gave me a look, but there was the hint of laughter sparkling in her eyes. We were okay. She wasn’t mad at me.
“Iamsorry,” I repeated. It was easier this time, now that I knew she wasn’t irrevocably mad at me. “You’re the last person who deserves my bullshit.”
“It’s not bullshit,” Amelia said.
Which was a surprise.
I waited for her to continue once she was done licking sugar off her lips.
“Eat your doughnut,” she said, pointing at it. “I’m gonna talk for a minute here.”
I hesitated, but when it became obvious that this was non-negotiable, took a bite out of my own doughnut. Amanda’s reaction instantly made sense. The thin sugared crust gave way under my teeth to soft, fluffy insides that spilled smooth lavender cream into my mouth—not so much lavender it tasted like soap, and not so sweet it drowned out the bright citrus note of the Earl Grey.
I hadn’t met Iggy’s husband yet, but his baking alone made me think the guy had married well.
“It’s not bullshit,” Amelia repeated. “You have a right to be mad about all of this. You don’t have a right to take it out on me,” she added, pointing a sugar-covered finger at me, “or anyone else. But it’s not bullshit to be angry. It’s grief.”
I popped the rest of the doughnut in my mouth to save myself the temptation of speaking. Not that I had any idea what to say to that.
“I’ve been where you are,” Amelia continued. “And I was mad. I was so mad I could’ve torn the sky down with my teeth. I get it. And I’m not trying to rush you, either. Grief takes as long as it takes. It never really goes away, but… it becomes part of the previous act.”
My tongue darted out to catch the sugar on my lips. Amelia knew what she was talking about—she’d been through this. I knew that, intellectually. I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t thought to talk about this with her sooner.
