“Ooh, what’s this?” she asks, reaching for the chicken salad I’ve been shielding from her.
I pull it back. “My lunch.”
“That’s really funny actually,” she says gleefully. “Because I didn’t hear you leave and I know you didn’t have it earlier.”
There’s no point in hiding my blush. “Benji brought it for me.”
“Oh, he did, did he?”
I start pushing her toward the storeroom. “Yes.”
“Is this part of his apology tour?”
I snort. “You could say that.”
Skye pulls herself up onto the counter next to the register and steals a piece of chicken. “Oh my God! I never told you about the punk I kicked out of here. This little snot bag had the nerve to spit his gum out on the floor and giggle. So gross. Little chipmunk-looking punk. Like,Hello, no one wants your germy, halitosis-soaked wad, broski. Save that for your nightly wet sesh.”
Not a term I’ve ever heard before or one I ever want to hear again.
“Ew, Skye, I’m trying to eat.”
I push my salad away, my appetite gone, and Skye happily takes it from me.
“That’s what I mean! It’s gross.”
I brave a look at the shop floor, as if the remnants of his gum were in hiding somewhere, but it’s pristine. We already mop twice a week. I mean, you’d be horrified at the amount of gunk on people’s shoes. Or maybe you wouldn’t; I don’t know.
“Wait, when did this happen?”
There’s no way Skye didn’t yell at the kid, but if it happened while I was here, I missed it.
“Yesterday, while you were havingyourwet?—”
I slap a hand over her mouth and feel her grin under my palm.
“I regret telling you anything.”
She kisses my hand and then holds it to her chest. “Hey, before you ran, it was good, right?”
My cheeks flood with heat, but I can only nod.
“Well, I’m glad to see you having some fun. You earned it after last year.”
She’s not wrong.
“What happened to hating him?”
She shrugs.
Skye’s always been quick to anger and quick to forgiveness. It’s mine that takes longer.
“I still hate that he hurt you.”
“I told him that I want to give us another chance.”
She chews while she thinks it over. “Then I’ll need him to sign over the deed of his balls to me, to be collected in the event of him hurting you again.”
There’s the answer I expected.
