Page 45 of The Summer of Us

Or should I play peace-keeper and insist they talk? Stay and point out their good points and how much each of them meant to me? Remind them of the one thing they did have in common?

Me.

My hands grew damper. What I really wanted was to walk out the door, hide for the day, and come back later and see who was still standing.

In the end, I went with what I knew best. Distraction and my stomach. I sat down at a table and slipped my hand into Sunny’s.

“I’m hungry, Sunny.”

She sighed. “Of course you are,” she said at the same moment Abby did. Then they chuckled. Sunny shocked me as she reached out and gave Abby a hug.

“Sit down and I’ll bring breakfast.”

Abby smiled—a real smile, not her fake one. “Let me help. I love to bake—I’ve never had a friend who owned a shop before. Maybe I could help one afternoon?”

Sunny grinned. “Free help is always welcome.”

I looked between them. A third option—the two most important women in my life acting as if they wanted to get to know each other and making the effort to do so. Hugs and all.

I liked that one.

“Still hungry,” I mumbled.

Sunny nudged Abby to the table. “Sit. I’ll be right back. You can help later.”

She disappeared through the door, and Abby glanced my way. “I like her.”

“I knew you would. You like to bake?”

She shrugged. “I dabble.”

“Huh.”

Sunny came back with a laden tray. I rose and took it from her, my mouth watering at the scent. Warm biscuits, flaky croissants, brioches, butter, jam, and coffee.

Manna from heaven.

It was a good thing I had food to occupy my mouth since from the moment Sunny sat beside Abby, I ceased to exist—for either of them.

The chatter was nonstop.

“I love your hair,” Sunny enthused, flipping her ponytail over her shoulder. “I can’t do anything cool with this horrid color. Pink or purple would clash.”

“I love the color of your hair,” I mumbled around a mouthful of biscuit. “It’s like the sunset.”

“Linc, stop talking with your mouth full,” Abby scolded me.

“Pink is my favorite color,” she told Sunny. “I love it.”

“I noticed. Your little truck is so cute. Love the sparkles.”

“It’s an SUV,” I offered to the air since no one seemed to hear my words.

“It’s great. I like sitting up high.”

“Short girl problems,” they said in unison, then chuckled and launched into a discussion about pant leg lengths.

I picked up my phone, deciding I might as well be productive.