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“I knew Mae,” I insist.
“You do get points for that,” she concedes. “Yet, I do have to ask how. I mean, it's not like I go around advertising that information.”
“Emily told me once that your parents named you Mae after your aunt. I thought it was sweet.”
Her face scrunches up. “Did you and Emmie discuss me a lot?”
“Not really,” I admit. “Occasionally, though. You were her best friend.”
“Yeah,” Tillie laughs, the sound bitter. There's absolutely no humor to it.
“What's that reaction?” I ask.
“What do you mean?”
“That tone you just used. I take it you and Emily aren’t friends anymore.”
“Honestly, Ryder, I’m not sure anyone is truly friends with Emily. She seems to enjoy making that impossible.”
I see through her words to see the pain etched on her face, in the forced smile and the dry wit. She's clearly trying to hide her true feelings on the subject but failing miserably.
“I'm sensing there's more to this story.” She shakes her head, but I stop her from talking. “You can tell me another time, but not tonight. Tonight, the last thing I want to do is talk about Emily West,” I tell her seriously. "Tonight, I want my night all about Tillie Mae Carter.”
She studies me intently, obviously having something on her mind.
“Do you have another question for me?” I prompt, moving the conversation forward before she can use Emily to push me away.
She closes her eyes for a moment, and when she opens them, the traces of pain, the sadness after Emily was brought up, are gone. I have no clue what could be going on there, but I will find out.
“What's my favorite color?” she asks, tilting her chin as if she's already beat me.
I blink.Shit.I have no idea, but I'm not about to admit that. I glance around, seeing a lot of yellows, more yellow than green. Throw pillows, the wall color, the curtains on the only window. It's looks like filtered sunshine.
“Yellow.”
She laughs. “God, no.”
“It's the most prominent color in here,” I argue.
“It was the only color that made this place feel airy like it isn't mostly underground.”
“Okay, so what's your favorite color?” I ask.
Tillie doesn't answer me. Instead, she starts walking away as I watch her.
She peeks over her shoulder. “Are you going to follow me?”
My eyes trail down her back to her ass as she continues to walk away. Fuck, those curves are dangerous. I'd follow this woman anywhere. I move so I can follow her, my eyes still firmly glued to her ass, watching how it sways until it hypnotizes me. It's as juicy as an apple, and I'd love to take a bite right now.
I finally manage to lift my eyes from her perfect ass as we pass a bathroom. It’s painted in the same cream color as the rest of the short hallway. The bathroom is small but has a full-size shower.
“You don't take long soaking baths?” I ask. She looks back at me, clearly startled.
“Huh?” she asks.
I shrug. “You just seem like the kind of girl who would enjoy a bubble bath. Honestly, I picture you as the type to soak in the tub surrounded by candles.”
She smiles. “Yeah, that sounds nice, but there wasn't room in here for a good soaking tub. I'm the one that had to put that shower in. Mom and Dad had a little corner one, but I could barely turn around. I’m not exactly a small girl.”
