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The person in front of her steps forward, but Naomi doesn’t budge—her predictable first strike. I, however, do the last thing I ever thought I’d do in this situation.
I fight a smile.
“Don’t do that.” The high-heeled ninja strikes again, sensing my amusement from the back of her head. She swivels and skewers me with one of her perfected scowls. “I don’t appreciate you mocking me with that condescending smile.”
I shrug, going for nonchalant when I’m anything but. “All I said was hi.”
“We don’t sayhi. And we don’t”—she gestures aggressively at the amusement on my face—“do this. It’s rude and annoying, and I’m not in the mood.”
Not only do we not smile at each other, Naomi doesn’t lose her cool around me. Aside from our recent fender bender, she’s icy and rigid, oftentimes insulting. This level of upset isn’t our norm.
“Are you okay?” I ask gently, even though we don’t do gentle either. Since last night’s revelation, I’ve lost all sense of normalcy with Naomi.
She clamps her jaw, and her hoop earrings quiver. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, but leave me out of it.”
Jaw set, she turns and marches forward in line, no longer bothering to annoy me by letting the opening remain, which is odd.
I’ve known Naomi long enough to have memorized the nuances of our bitter exchanges. Her volatile reaction and unwillingness to let the space in front of her linger as long as possible for maximum effect is uncharacteristic.
The sudden urge to put my hand on her shoulder surprises me. The itch to give her a compassionate squeeze like she did for me after E left and ask if everything’s okay. But her back is stiff as a board, and we’ve been enemies too long. Anything I do or say will likely be misconstrued—again. I’ll make whatever’s bothering her worse just by being me.
Still, my chest is knotted, my throat dry. I’m struggling to figure out how to make amends for hurting her accidentally when there’s so much negativity between us.
She makes her way to the counter, not bothering to hesitate with her order or pay with a mountain of pennies. She moves to the side and waits for her coffee as I order mine. When she turns and collects her order, there’s no missing the glassiness in her eyes and resolute press of her lips. Like she’s trying not to cry.
This isn’t odd. This is downright worrying.
Could saying hi and smiling at her have set her off? Is talking to me really that painful for her? Unlikely. I doubt I rank anywhere on Naomi’s People I Care About Enough to Cry Over Them list.
I open my mouth to say something again, ask if she’s all right again, but she’s walking before I gather the courage, sweeping out the door with clipped steps.
“I figured she’d make you cry before you made her cry,” Delilah says.
Delilah Moon knows a thing or two about men making women cry. She may look happy and healthy now, with her mass of curly hair tied into a ponytail, her pink Baking Queen apron adding a blush to her light skin, but she was dating E when he vanished. While I was confused and angry, shit went sideways for her. A scary, downward spiral we’ve all agreed not to talk about.
Thankfully, she found a semblance of happiness since that mess, opened this adorable shop, gradually letting people back into her life. She’s become a good friend.
A good friend with Naomi intel.
“The only thing I could do to make Naomi cry is continue to exist, but she did seem off.”
Delilah finishes wiping down a table and adjusts the surrounding chairs. “Must be that fight with her mother.”
I blow on my coffee and take a sip. Rich and robust and perfect. “What fight with her mother?”
Delilah freezes, one hand on a chair back. “Nothing specific. Just, you know…” She waves vaguely and avoids my eyes.
No, I don’t know. And judging by Delilah’s quick shutdown, she just said something she wasn’t supposed to.
Looking guilty as hell, she hurries away, leaving the scene of her crime.
More confused and unsettled, I head to work. Where I’m once again preoccupied.
Long neck. Hoop earrings. Blue wrap dress stretched over sensual hips.
Glassy eyes.
Getting licked by Samar Abelman’s new golden retriever puppy helps harness my focus. I get on the floor with Dusty, let him clamber on me and nip at my ear with his sharp, little teeth. “Keep your shoes and loose cords off the floor at home. This one’s liable to chew through anything.”
