“I’ll take that awkward semi-eye-contact interchange between you two as aYes, I’ve summed it up,” she said.
“Mmm,” I mumbled, under my breath, sipping the wine and feeling the rush of it through my veins.
Emelia looked at Mike for confirmation, raising one of her pierced brows at him.
“Mmm,” he mumbled back.
“Good! Good to get things out in the open!” she exclaimed happily. “We can work with this. Perhaps, Becca, you could share with Mike your first childhood memory?”
“Huh?” I said, looking at her.
She burst out laughing. “I’m just fucking with you. I’d make a terrible therapist! I’d be too damn direct.”
“So, be direct,” I said to her.
“I don’t know. Not sure you two could handle the truth.”
Mike suddenly pulled a chair out and sat down at the dining-room table. “We can handle the truth. Although, I’m pretty sure it will be way off.” He looked at me and patted the chair next to him. I sat down quickly.
“Fine.” Emelia sat down, too, and we all looked at each other for a while. “Should we hold hands and sing ‘Kum Ba Yah’ first?” she joked, and then laughed again.
Mike shot her a disapproving look and she stopped laughing.
“God—so serious. Be cool,” she said to him. “Mind you, I guess going to a nudist beach and stripping down to your birthday suit is probably the definition of cool.”
Mike’s cheeks went a little red, and I’m sure mine did, too, as memories of what hadalmosthappened in the cove came flooding back to me.
“Aaaaah,” Emelia said. “I see . . .”
“See what?” I asked.
“Didsomethingthat meanssomething, that could have beensomething, happen on the beach, perhaps?”
We looked at each other briefly.
“Oooh, I’m getting good at this stuff. Screw the bakery—I’m becoming a psychologist.” Then she sat back in her chair and put her hands together in that thoughtful, psychologist way. “You know what I think?” she asked.
We both shook our heads.
“I mean, the sexual attraction between the two of you is undeniable. You can see it a mile away.”
“Pssshhht, please,” I said defensively.
Emelia raised a brow at me. “No amount ofpssshhhting will convince me you’re not attracted to that man. I mean, I’m a lesbian, for heaven’s sake, and even I am attracted to him!” She turned to Mike. “And you—I’ve seen the way you look at her when she’s not looking.”
“What?” I asked.
“I don’t think so.” Mike looked uncomfortable now.
“He’s always staring at you when you’re not looking,” she said.
“Staring?” I asked.
“You make it sound creepy,” Mike piped up. “I might steal the odd glance, from time to time. I certainly don’t stare.”
“No, you basically stare,” Emelia confirmed. “And, as for you—” she returned her attention to me now—“I’ve noticed all the little coy looks and the prolonged sighs you make when he’s around.”
“I don’t make prolonged sighs!” I objected.
