“We have a blast here.” There’s a wistful note in her voice, and I wonder if it’s because she always wanted to open a shop in the city, not a little town.
She shakes it off, then pins me with a curious stare as she sweeps around the counter and starts folding the chairs away. “But I suspect you’re not here about trivia.”
There’s a tease in her voice, but also a no-bullshit edge to her tone. Which is one of the reasons I adore her. She doesn’t like to beat around the bush.
“I’m not,” I say, and her words from earlier repeat in my head.I always support you. Even if it involves my weird brother.
But other words do too. Lake’s words:She likes to give me gag gifts. Last year for my birthday she sent me my face on a potato.
I dip my hand into my bag. Some conversations just need lubrication.
I hand her a gift wrapped in pink paper.
Arching a brow, she sets down the folding chair in her hand and takes it. “Gifts are the way to my black heart.”
“It’s not black,” I chide.
“No, but my soul might be.” She rips it open, then laughs.She slides the fluffy pink earmuffs onto her head, covering her ears with the gift I picked up at a shop in the Marina. “Go ahead now and tell me you’re”—she stops to gag—“banging my brother.”
It’s a relief, her reaction. Her amusement. Her sarcasm. I still need to say it though. I speak crisply and clearly, so she can read my lips even though she might not be able to hear me well. “I had sex with your brother.”
She cringes. We’re talking the full-body kind. When she stops doubling over, she raises her face and asks loudly, “Are you done? Is it safe to remove them?”
I nod.
She slips them off her ears. “Was it as gross as I suspect? Wait. Don’t tell me.”
I laugh, grateful for the outcome—the one I was hoping for with the earmuffs she requested.
“I won’t tell you a single detail, I promise,” I say, grabbing a folded chair and carrying it to her stock room. She grabs one too.
“Good, but also, I knew.”
My jaw drops. “How?”
“Girl, you ran away when I joined everyone at the game the other night. I put two and two together. Also, he cut his hair. And I saw that kiss online from the dress shop.”
“You watched the lipstick test?” I’m glad she has no idea about theotherlipstick test.
“I did, and yes, it was as weird as I expected. But look, I’m the person who watches horror movies, so this should not be a surprise.”
“Fair.”
“And it was horrifying. But also telling,” she says as we return to the shop to grab more chairs.
My heart speeds up, liking that the kiss told some kind of story. “How could you tell it was real?”
“He pretty much made googly eyes at you then and was allI’m gonna kiss you now,” she says, in a faux deep voice before she gags again.
I laugh but inside butterflies are taking off.
And I should not like the way they feel so much. I focus on my friendship with her—not my blooming feelings for her brother that are going nowhere. “I didn’t want to lie to you. I hate lying. I hate lying to my boss and my parents and even Caroline in a way.”
She gives me a sympathetic look. “I know. It’s anathema to you.”
“It is.”
“But, also if you’re”—she pauses, like she’s bracing herself to say it—“smashing, isn’t it real?”
