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I checkon Bailey in the staff room and return to the kitchen. My body feels sluggish, and I can’t stop yawning. The consequence of not falling asleep again after the nightmare that woke me early this morning.
I wash my hands and resume chopping the onions. Keshia is at the industrial mixer, kneading bread dough. The whirl of the motor is barely heard over Zendaya and Zac Efron singing “Rewrite the Stars.”
Zara approaches my workstation. “Are you hiking Saturday?” She picks up an onion from the bag and casually examines it as if she has nothing better to do. A sly smile curves her pinkish-brown lips.
“Yes. As far as I know. I’m looking forward to it.” I’m still hypervigilant while hiking, but I’m a little more at ease in the mountains than anywhere else.
Zara puts the onion down and picks up another one. “So, what’s going on between you and Troy?”
A laugh, low and slightly off-kilter, forces its way out. “The same thing as the last time you asked me. We’re just friends.”
Friends who kissed last night.
“Are you sure about that?”
“Yeaaaah?” Except the word comes out more like a question than a confirmation. “Of course we’re just friends.”
“Friends who kiss?”
“He told you we kissed?” Surprise and indignation pepper my tone. I never thought of Troy as the type of guy who’d kiss and tell, but I guess I don’t know him all that well.
“No. But Delores told me a few minutes ago that you and Troy are now on kissing terms.”
I snort-laugh, but not for the reason Zara assumes. My living room curtains were closed when he and I kissed last night. There’s no way Delores or anyone else could’ve seen us. “She made that up. Delores, Samantha, and Rose are in my yoga class, and they told me I should kiss him.”
“So, you haven’t kissed Troy?”
I focus on the onion I’m chopping. “Nope.” Lying was something I’d always been uncomfortable with. That all changed with the exchanging of wedding vows.I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going and walked into the doorframe. I was carrying the laundry and missed the top step.
“Do you want to kiss him?”
“From what I’ve heard, half the women in Maple Ridge want to kiss him. Isn’t that what you told me, Zara? Women throw themselves at Troy and try to give him their phone number?” My tone has a singsong quality, designed to distract from the current line of questioning.
Keshia chuckles from beside the mixer. “Nice deflection.”
“I’m not deflecting,” I say with the equivalent of half an eye roll in my tone. “Simply stating the truth.”
Zara leans forward, arms resting on my work counter, preventing me from chopping more onions. “Sooo, do you want to kiss Troy?”
“Doyouwant to kiss him?” I level my gaze at Zara and then Keshia.
Zara pushes away from the counter, maybe noticing the amused question in my eyes. “Definitely not. Troy’s like a brother to me.”
We both look at Keshia.
She lifts her shoulders in a nonchalant shrug. “Hey, I’m not denying I’m part of the want-to-kiss-him crowd. He looks like he’d be an amazing kisser.”
Oh, he is.
“Youhavekissed him!” The exclamation powers from Zara and is aimed directly at me. “You’re blushing.”
“I’m not blushing.”Much.Heat burns in my cheeks, hotter now that I’ve been caught in my lie.
“Oh, do tell,” Keshia says, her bread-making temporarily forgotten. “Is he as good as I’ve heard?”
The lights flicker above our heads.
And the kitchen goes black.
