Page 94 of Frosted Fakes

All she knew was that without Elliott, the flat felt small and suffocating. Without Elliott, her life felt small and suffocating.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Shay's flat smelled like incense. Elliott hated it.

She'd been camped on Shay's sofa for three days now, surrounded by throw cushions in aggressive shades of coral and teal, trying to work on her cookbook and failing spectacularly. Every time she opened her laptop, she saw Julia's face. Julia laughing at one of Elliott's grumpy observations. Julia covered in flour after another baking disaster. Julia looking at her like she was something worth believing in.

Pathetic. She was pathetic.

"You need to eat something." Shay appeared from the kitchen holding a bowl of what looked like cereal but probably had chia seeds in it. Elliott hated chia seeds. "You've been staring at that screen for two hours, and I haven't seen you type a single word."

"I typed three words."

"Which were?"

Elliott didn’t have an answer to that. She couldn’t remember, to be honest. Whatever the words were, she’d deleted them immediately. They’d been unnecessary.

Shay settled onto the arm of the sofa, looking concerned and amused at the same time. It was a talent. "The cookbook is finished, El. You told me it was finished days ago. What are you even trying to do?"

"Make it better." Elliott pulled her knees up to her chest, feeling approximately twelve years old and hating that too. "The photography isn't right. The recipes need more testing. The whole thing is probably rubbish anyway."

"The whole thing is brilliant, and you know it." Shay poked her with a socked foot. "You're just looking for excuses not to send it anywhere because then you'd have to actually deal with what comes next."

"Thank you for that psychological insight. Have you considered a career in therapy?"

"I've considered a career in everything. Currently, I'm considering a career in professional polyamory, which is apparently a thing now." Shay grinned. "Speaking of which, update on the love triangle situation."

Elliott groaned. "I really don't need to hear about your romantic chaos right now."

"Yes, you do. It'll make you feel better about your own mess." Shay tucked her legs underneath her, settling in for what was clearly going to be a lengthy story. "So, remember how I had dinner with Sam and then accidentally with Jo as well?"

"I remember something of the sort." She didn’t need this, didn’t need Shay’s optimism.

"Well, they found out." Shay paused dramatically. "And they're both fine with it."

Elliott blinked. "What?"

"Apparently Sam has been seeing someone else too, and Jo said they’d been meaning to bring up the whole non-monogamy conversation anyway, so really I just… accelerated the timeline." Shay beamed like she'd solved world hunger. "We're all having dinner on Saturday. Like, together."

"That sounds… exhausting." Trust Shay to have everything work out in the end.

"It sounds like an adventure." Shay tilted her head, studying Elliott. "Not everyone is out to hurt you, you know. Sometimes people surprise you in good ways."

Elliott looked away. "And sometimes they send your manuscript to their famous mother without asking and treat you like a charity case."

"Mmm." Shay's voice softened. "Did she, though? Treat you like a charity case?"

"She went behind my back."

"Because she knew you'd say no."

"Exactly! It was my choice to make!"

"Was it?" Shay asked quietly. "Or were you just going to say no to everything forever because it's easier than admitting you need people? Were you really just going to take hundreds of photos of the same recipe, even though the first one you took was perfect, just to put off the moment when you actually had to risk something?"

Elliott didn't have an answer for that. She pulled a cushion into her lap and started picking at its fringe, the textile equivalent of biting your nails, but she didn't care. "How do you do it?" she asked finally, soft and small.

"Do what? The polyamory thing? Well, step one is communication, which ironically I'm quite bad at in the beginning, but—"