Page 55 of My Fallen Saint

She frowns. “Do you really think Peter was working for him? I read some stories on the web last night, and this Wolf guy sounds super scary.”

“I honestly don’t know.” I sip my coffee as I move around the bar and climb onto one of the stools. “I just want one,” I say, nodding at the muffins. “Only one.”

Her brows rise. “First, they have to cool. Second, who said I was offering?”

“You love feeding me,” I tease. “Unless…” I trail off and lift my brows. “Are you perhaps putting together a basket for that special someone?”

Considering the color that floods her cheeks, I know that’s exactly it. “Oh my God, you are. Who? And why didn’t you tell me last night?”

She lifts a shoulder. “I met him at the gala right after we talked. It felt—I don’t know—like a gift after how cruddy I was feeling. He’s nice, and he’s not pushy, and he’s cute. I guess telling would have been like getting my hopes up.”

“Okay. That’s fair. Tell me the rest, though. How did you get to the muffin stage so fast? And give me one before Mystery Man gets them all.”

“Do you really want it now? You’ll burn your tongue.”

“You know me. Never one to shy away from risk. Besides, they’re best when the chocolate’s gooey.”

She pops one on a plate and slides it across the bar to me, whereupon I proceed to burn my fingers in the process of taking a bite. “This is amazing,” I say, talking with my mouth open to try to cool the hot muffin that’s burning the shit out of my tongue.

“How we’re friends…”

“Yin and yang,” I remind her. “And because we’ve always had each other’s back.”

She lifts her hand and does a high five with the air since she’s back across the kitchen. I lift mine and reciprocate.

And, once again, I feel guilty.

“Bran—”

“I know. I know. The story. That’s pretty much it. I gave him my number and last night he called, and we went for a walk on the beach after dinner. We got to talking, and…”

She trails off with a shrug. “Well, he’s sweet. We had coffee and he drove me home.”

“And…”

“He kissed me goodnight. That was it. Total gentleman. I told him that I don’t move fast, and he said that he’d move at a snail’s pace for a woman like me.”

I put my hands over my heart. “I don’t know if that’s a line, but if it is, it’s a good one.”

She laughs. “That’s what I thought. Anyway, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I guess I wanted to see how it went first. I’m tired of calling you up to tell you I met a good one only for it to turn out that his manners had an expiration date, and he morphed into some porn star wannabe. But,” she adds with a hard look at me, “I should have.”

“It’s okay,” I say. “I get it.” I signal for another muffin, because to hell with my jean size.

She passes one over, and I pick at the top, trying to gather my thoughts. Trying to decide what to do or say. Or, for that matter, whether I should do or say anything at all.

After a moment of unusually awkward silence between us, she comes around the island and climbs on the stool next to me. “Do you remember when Daddy packed us up and moved us to San Diego?”

I frown. “Well, yeah. Of course.”

“And I didn’t say a word to you about why. Or I did, but I lied.”

“You said your dad got a new job. I remember.” I reach out and cover her hand with mine. “It’s okay. I was a little butthurt in college once you finally told me about the baby and the adoption, but I understand why you didn’t at first. I know how hard it must have been for you.”

“Yeah,” she says. “It was brutally hard. But that’s the point.”

“I don’t follow.”

She runs a finger through the tangle of blond and pink strands. “The thing is, I should have told you sooner. I was carrying this massive weight, and you would have helped me. But—I don’t know—I guess I was ashamed.”