Page 62 of Frosted Fakes

"I don't look different."

"You look like someone who's had a revelation. Or a really good night's sleep. Or…" His expression shifted into understanding. "Oh."

"There's no 'oh.'"

"There's definitely an 'oh.'" Jamie set down his container and studied her. "Something happened with Elliott."

"Why does everyone keep saying that?"

"Because you've got that look. The look of someone who's crossed a line and doesn't know how to cross back." He leaned on the counter. "Spill."

Julia glanced toward the kitchen door. "I can't. She's right there."

"So whisper."

Julia hesitated. But this was Jamie, who'd been nothing but kind since she'd arrived. Jamie, who'd smoothed over awkward moments with her mother and offered advice without judgment. Jamie, who might actually be able to help. Jamie who’d let her mother touch his bum and not sued her for harassment or sold the story to the press. She sighed.

"We kissed," she whispered. "Last night. After Milly was taken to hospital. Elliott was upset and I was comforting her and then we just… um… kissed."

Jamie's eyebrows rose. "And?"

"And nothing. This morning she handed me coffee and ran away. She won't look at me. She won't talk about it." Julia's voice cracked slightly. "I think I've ruined everything."

"Or," Jamie said thoughtfully, "she's just as scared as you are."

"Elliott doesn't get scared. Elliott is controlled and confident and knows exactly what she wants."

"Elliott is also human. And from what I've seen, not particularly experienced at letting people in." Jamie straightened. "You know what you need to do."

"Run away and join the circus?"

"Talk to her." Jamie grabbed Julia's arm and started steering her toward the kitchen. "Come on."

"What? No. Jamie, I can't just—"

"You absolutely can." He stared at her. "Do not learn about love from the media. There is only one thing that matters in a relationship, and that’s communication. End of story." He pushed open the kitchen door. Elliott looked up from where she was piping something delicate, her expression going wary. "Right. You two are going to talk about the fact that you kissed."

Elliott's piping bag went still. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." Jamie released Julia, who stumbled slightly. "You kissed. Last night. And now you're both acting like awkward teenagers at a school dance. It's painful to watch, and I've only been here thirty seconds."

"This is none of your business," Elliott said flatly.

"It became my business when Julia started looking like a Victorian swooner and you started stress-baking." Jamie pointed at a tray of what appeared to be croissants so perfect they belonged in a museum. "You've made forty-seven croissants. The shop doesn't need forty-seven croissants."

"There's no such thing as too many croissants."

"There absolutely is, and this is it." Jamie was already backing toward the door. "Talk. Communicate. Use your words like adults. I'll watch the front."

The door swung shut behind him.

Silence.

Elliott set down her piping bag very carefully. Julia stood frozen by the counter, acutely aware of the space between them.

"He's insufferable," Elliott said finally.

"He means well."