She tilts her head and gives me ac’monlook. “Are you serious?”
“It was only three days ago when you were on death’s door.”
“I was not on death’s door. I was just too sick to make out on camera with my husband-to-be.”
I shrug. “Sounded like death’s door to me.”
“I’m feeling so much better. I did the floral mockup yesterday with Margot, thank you very much. And I was even at work today. I hosted my show.”
“Well, I hope you were generous with your employees and handed out masks for them too. Or mind vises perhaps. That would be a great wedding favor for your guests.”
She parks her right hand on her hip. Her left holds a red canvas bag. “I’ll have you know I have a clean bill of health.”
“And as far as I’m concerned, you can never be too safe,” I say, holding my germaphobe ground. “Seeing as I have to get on the road with a hockey player, I can’t be responsible for making him sick. What if the team loses because he can’t play?”
“You’re seriously ridiculous.” Rolling her eyes, she thrusts the red bag my way.
“What’s this?”
“It’s a reusable bag. You use it to pick up the candy. You put it in the bag and voila.”
I shoot her a challenging stare. “I know,” I say. When she learned I was heading to Evergreen Falls, she asked me to swing by a specialty candy shop there to pick up the wedding favors in person. One less thing to ship is less of an eco footprint, and we’re both all for that. “But I have my own reusable bags.”
“Well, you can’t be too safe,” she says with a smirk.
She turns to leave, then stops and must think better of it because she turns around. “You and Lake are traveling together. Things are moving…quickly with him?”
I tense at that word, the implied judgment in it.
She holds up a stop-sign hand. “That’s not a bad thing. It’s nice that things are moving quickly. You seem happy. This thing with him is promising?”
Her voice pitches up with hope, and my gut twists so hard, as if someone is squeezing it like a washcloth. “It’s just a rebound. That’s all it’s going to be,” I say, squashing that hope.
She won’t be vanquished. “You never know. Love doesn’t always happen on your schedule. And there’s no mandatory time period for moving on. You get over someone when you get over them, and good for you.”
“Caroline,” I warn.
But she’s already in go mode. “And just in case the rebounding is going super well,” she says, then dips her hand into the pocket of her crisp, perfectly pressed slacks. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Lake turning the corner, walking down the path to my little porch while my sister pulls out a sleeve of condoms.
Tension shoots sky-high in me. “Caroline!”
My cheeks redden.
As Lake heads up the steps, Caroline swivels around. “Oh! This is perfect.”
She wings them his way, and he catches them. Seconds later she’s gone, and Lake is holding a sleeve of protection and I’m wearing a mask.
He gestures to me. “Are you sick? Do you need anything?” It’s asked with genuine concern, but I don’t need help.
I rip off the mask. “Just a precaution. Since she says she’s over her cold, but you never know. I don’t want to get you sick. As then you couldn’t play and…”
The sentence dies as the awkwardness expands. I’m explaining my germaphobe excuses while he holds condoms we won’t use. “I’ll just grab my bag.”
He gives a tight nod, and I hustle inside, snagging my overnight bag—well, for two nights—then roll it out.
I’m locking the door, ready to wheel it toward his car when he snags it from me with the kind of stealth he’d use when snagging a puck.
“Lake, I can roll my own suitcase.”
