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We'd met in school; I wanted to be a journalist who took on the world and needed to make it a better place. Or, at least, to shine a light on the darker parts and to bring some truths out of the shadows.
Cassie wanted to be a food journalist. She’d started college with me then had transferred out a year before graduation to head into a culinary school.
She’d become a trained chef the last I’d heard.
The investigator in me took note of the brittle way she held herself, the slight tremor in her hand as she held out some bills to pay; then, I watched as the server packed her order.
Aoife's bakery was my go-to place now to meet with people, so I knew her menu inside and out.
Was it a coincidence that a woman I knew to be a food journalist was here trying all of Aoife's new items?
Since she'd gone viral, interest in the bakery had increased to the point where I knew Aoife wanted to expand the business.
Was Cassie here to write an article on the place?
Or did she just want lunch?
Before I could let my thoughts run away from themselves, a large crowd of twelve or so students drifted away from a table.
In the mire, and quite by chance, I saw one of the staff head into the backroom.
As the door drifted to a close, my eyes widened when I saw Aidan sitting there with—
Shit.
I couldn’t make out who it was.
I tried my best to catch a glimpse of his lunch partner, angling around in my seat to figure out who his meeting was with, but the door closed before I had a chance.
Cursing my bad luck, I grumbled under my breath but didn't have long to complain because my sisters finally showed up.
I only realized because they sat down beside me, and it drew me out of my irritation.
"You're late," I sniped at them, reaching for my coffee to take a sip.
"Why do you always have to focus on the negative?" Paris groused. "We're here, aren't we?"
"Don't make out like I asked to meet up with you and that you’re gifting me with your precious time," I mocked. "If you're going to be the one who instigates the arrangements, at least have the decency to show the fuck up." I stared at my watch. "I don't have long anymore. What do you want?"
"Maybe we don't want anything," Aspen argued.
"You always want something. It's what you do."
"Savannah!" Paris hissed. "There's no need to be mean."
I scowled at her. "I've had a long weekend, Paris. A really fucking long one. I'm tired, I'm aching, you haven't asked after the burns on my cheeks, and I'm not in the best mood but, somehow, I still managed to be punctual. I didn't cancel or try to reschedule. I'm here."
Aspen squinted at my burns. "What are they from?"
"Aidan and I were involved in a car crash. It's from the airbags."
"You didn't tell Mom and Dad!" Paris reprimanded. "If you did, they'd have let us know you were injured."
"I saw no reason to concern them. We're alive and well, just a little sore.
"And I would have told them, but it happened Sunday evening and I’ve been sleeping a lot ever since. I prioritized lunch with you today over the call I’ll have with them later on," I said pointedly.
"God, you're such a pain. We get it, don’t we, Aspen? We're terrible people for being late all the damn time."
