Page 192 of Pumpkin Spice Promises

I stared at the half-destroyed nail on my thumb.

Apparently subtlety had never been one of my strengths. “I think I’m going to tell him tonight.” The words were quieter than I’d intended.

Her hand softened over mine. “Oh, baby.”

“Please don’t make that face.”

“What face?”

“That one.”

“I only have one face.”

“You have at least twenty, and that one is going to make me cry.”

She tried, unsuccessfully, to rearrange her features into something neutral. I took a slow breath. “I can’t keep doing this with him without telling him.”

“Doing what?” I gave her a look and Meme’s mouth curved. “Just checking.”

“I kissed him.”

“I know.”

My head whipped toward her. “How do you know?”

“I raised you.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

“You came into this kitchen after that boy left looking like you’d swallowed the moon, then spent the next two days pretending you weren’t staring at your telephone every five minutes.”

“I do not stare at my phone.”

“Sweetheart, you nearly walked into the pantry door answering one of his messages.”

Heat spread across my face. “That happened once.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“And I was tired.”

“I’m sure.”

I leaned my elbows against the island and covered my face. “This is why I don’t tell you things.”

“That’s fine. You don’t have to. I will find out anyway.” A reluctant laugh escaped me. Meme waited until it faded before becoming serious again. “Why tonight?”

I dropped my hands. “Because it’s getting harder.”

“What is?”

“All of it.” I looked toward the window again. “Sometimes he puts his hand on my waist when he walks past me, and every time he does, all I can think about is what happens when that hand eventually goes lower.”

Meme nodded without making the joke I knew she desperately wanted to make.

“I can’t sleep with him without telling him first.”

“You shouldn’t do anything you’re not comfortable doing.”