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“It’s Book Club today,” she says, going to the fridge and pulling some fruit and vegetables, a package of presliced cheese, a wheel of brie and some jam.
Charcuterie.
These women are obsessed.
“What’s Mandy bringing?” I ask, stomach rumbling softly.
“A dessert board.”
I actually feel the drool pooling in my mouth. “And Sara?” I ask.
Brit’s lips kick up. “Mimosa fixings.”
Okay, that’s less exciting. I open my mouth?—
“The other girls are bringing seven-layer dip, chocolate lasagna, homemade sourdough and butter, and some sort of fall-themed soup,” she recites, ticking the items off on her fingers. “All of which are reserved for those who actually read the book.”
“What’s the title?” I ask. “I’ll read it right now.”
She laughs, shakes her head, starts slicing vegetables, arranging them neatly on the cutting board. Then sighs, lays the knife down.
“What?” I ask softly, moving closer, unable to stay away.
“You know what,” she replies, just as softly.
I open my mouth, close it.
She sighs. “I know,” she whispers, dropping her hands to the counter, hanging her head. “We have shit timing. Last night with Dan. This morning with the girls showing at the door any moment.”
“It’ll hold,” I murmur. “You have tonight off. After Rox and Dan go to bed, we’ll talk.”
Stillness in her body for several long heartbeats.
Then she sighs again, nods. “Yeah,” she whispers. “We’ll talk tonight.”
“Okay, baby,” I murmur. “Now”—I wrap my arms around her from behind—”am I slicing or arranging?”
More stillness.
More tension.
Then she exhales and smiles. “You’re arranging,” she says. “Last time I got so much shit for quote, ‘Cutting up a bunch of yummy shit and dumping it on a cutting board.” She tosses her hands up, shakes her head. “So what if it’s not pretty? It’s delicious and in bite-sized pieces and?—”
“God, I love you.”
It’s a blurt—a complete and total word vomit at wholly the wrong time.
We haven’t talked.
There’s a fucking wealth of shit between us that we need to work out.
And her friends are going to come barreling in through the front door any second now.
Her fingers tighten on the knife, and she slowly turns my way.
Fuck, she’s going to kill me.
I put her through too much.
