The word landed closer than she could know.
I smiled.
“I sing.”
Her eyebrows lifted.
“Professionally?”
“Sometimes.”
“That means yes.”
“I also write.”
“Songs?”
“Yes.”
“Anything I’d know?”
A laugh escaped me.
“Possibly.”
She studied my face, and for one terrifying second, I wondered whether the answer had shifted something into place.
Then Rosa arrived carrying enough food to distract a small army.
She set the paper trays between us.
“Eat before she makes you confess to tax fraud,” she told me.
Ellie looked offended.
“That was the crab.”
Rosa walked away without asking.
I picked up a fritter.
“This island has a strange relationship with crustacean law.”
“It’s a developing field.”
The fritter was hot enough to remove several layers from the roof of my mouth.
I made a noise and immediately covered it with my hand.
Ellie nodded.
“Elegant.”
“It’s hot.”
“That’s how frying works.”
“You could have warned me.”
