“Yeah, me too. But we don’t live here. It’ll feel good to be back in our own space.” I flip the blanket off, throwing my feet over the edge of the bed. Try as I might, I can’t keep my eyes from finding the clock. 6:45 a.m. I shake my head, stand, and begin pacing about the room, opening and closing drawers, making the bed, moving my perfume just a little to the right.
I don’tneedto hear his explanation. I’m not supposed to care what he does. This is a short-term, secret affair that’s fun and nothing more. It’s probably better that I don’t go hear what he has to say.
“A clean cut. End it now,” I mumble.
It can’t possibly be normal—the way I’m walking aroundmuttering to myself. Sunny follows me closely, waiting for me to pour food into his bowl. I stop in the middle of the room, hands on my hips, and look at the chair in the corner.
My mind replays everything—every conversation we’ve had this week, every feeling I’ve had and pretended I didn’t.
Even if I went to talk to him, what would be the point? We leave tomorrow. And if we tried to make this some sort of long-term whatever—which we won’t—he’d figure out eventually that I’m not worth sticking around for. Everyone else seems to leave, so why would he be any different?
A small piece of me, the part of my heart that so desperately needs to be wanted, is curious though what he has to say for himself.
“He’s such a good kisser.” That’s what the girl said to her friend when they passed us on the patio last night. Is it possible I read him so wrong? Was my desperation for physical connection so strong that I overlooked the lie and believed him when he said he doesn’t hook up with guests?
Stargazing. The way he held me when I learned about my mom. Him telling me about his dad—it all felt real.Could it have all just been a show?
I rub my eyes, trying to sort through the mess in my mind.
I can’t think straight.
I need coffee.
Mae is in the great room when I wander in. She’s pouring the freshly brewed coffee into the carafe and setting up the pot to brew some more.
“Morning, hun.” She catches my eye, and I offer a small wave. Mae slips through the kitchen door, returning a moment later with a tray full of croissants.
I can’t pretend that the sight of my favorite food doesn’t lift my spirits a little. Mae sets the tray down and puts the croissants in a linen-lined basket.
“Careful, they’re hot,” she says, her hands picking up and dropping the croissants as quickly as possible.
“Croissants are myfavorite.” I grab a plate and pluck a croissant from the basket, ripping the end of the flaky pastry and bringing it to my mouth completely ignoring how hot it is.So good.It practically melts in my mouth. The perfect mix of buttery, flaky, and moist.
Mae chuckles, watching me as I take my first bite, blowing out the hot air between chews.
“We rarely have them. But my soninsistedthe other day that we add them to the order.” She looks at me then, her expression unreadable. It vaguely reminds me of Pop though, when he knows something but doesn’t want to say it, waiting for me to say it first.
“You know, these come from the same place as the coffee.” Mae pauses, her gaze fixed on me.
I stop, the ripped piece of croissant poised in front of my mouth for my second bite. “These are from Bean & Brew?”
“They sure are. I don’t mind. Claire is a nice girl, and her mom is one of my best friends. I’m happy to support her business. Coffee?”
My mind races, working through the pieces of information I’m being fed.
“Coffee?” she asks again, and I realize I never answered her.
“Oh, yes, please. When did you say these were added to your order?”
Mae taps her chin, looking up in thought. “Mmm…Wednesday, I think. Yeah, that sounds about right.”
I told Luke croissants were my favorite on Tuesday, when he sat with me during the storm.
“I’m sorry, can you give me a paper cup instead?”
“Sure thing,” she says, pouring the contents of the mug into the paper cup. “Milk, sugar?”
“Just milk, please.” Mae pours the milk and tops the cup witha lid, slipping into a warming sleeve. I fix my eyes on the counter before me, my forehead tight with tension.
