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She takes a deep inhale and presses her palms into her eye sockets, mumbling something about how she can’t believe she’s talking to me about her problems. When she drops her hands and locks her eyes on mine, I almost choke on my bite. She’s got some of the richest chestnut-brown eyes I’ve ever seen. Jordan doesn’t look at you, she looksintoyou. It’s something I’ve picked up on before, but this is the most attention I’ve ever received from her, and it’s coming at full force.
I nod, giving her a minute to get everything off her chest while she blows off steam.
“My pumpkin muffin is better than your scone.”
She laughs. “That’s all you’re going to say? After everything I just told you?”
I shrug. “It sounded like you needed a little normalcy. And what am I gonna say? Sorry about your shitty life?”
“Hm.” She crosses her arms.
“Let me try a bite of your scone.”
She studies me. If she thinks I’m about to get in the middle of their situation, she’s wrong. I’m not gonna say shit about their relationship or tell her what to do. I don’t care.
“I’ll let you try my muffin...” I coax.
“Bet you say that to all the girls.”
At least she’s got a sense of humor. She slides the scone sitting on top of the bakery bag across the table, and I hand her my last pumpkin muffin. She doesn’t even realize the sacrifice I’m making.
I break off a piece of hers and pop it in my mouth. Meh. Not bad, but it’s no pumpkin muffin.
“I shouldn’t eat this, scones are my ride or die. Feels like I’m cheating on them.” She turns the dark orange piece of muffin in her hand, and her eyes grow large. “God, this must have been how Bryan felt. How tragic.”
I stare at her with a single raised eyebrow, my hand frozen, half reaching for the pastry.
Her lips curve into a half smile. “Too soon?”
I grin back, surprised by her unexpected dark humor. She’s never been this candid with me before. We share the same defense mechanism.
She chuckles, tears off a small piece of the pumpkin muffin, and savors it. “Mm, tastes like infidelity.”
Shaking my head, I take a sip of my coffee. My gaze drops, and I stare at the massive diamond on her finger. “So, are you wearing the ring because it matches your outfit, or is it stuck on your finger?”
“It’s stuck on my finger.”
I laugh, but her face is sober. “Really?”
She nods. “I’m an emotional eater. Now that I’m off Bryan’s wedding diet, I’ve been hitting the baked goods—hard.”
I love challenges. “Let me take off his ring.”
She holds her hand out. “Good luck. It was tight when he gave it to me.”
“Why didn’t he get it resized?” I suck her finger into my mouth down to the knuckle, and somehow, her already dark eyes get even deeper. She tastes like apple cinnamon. I swipe my tongue around the taut metal band.
“I thought you were going to use butter or something, you fucking psycho.” She stares for a moment then clears her throat. “He said it was motivation to help with thewedding weight loss. It was supposed to fit once I hit my goal.”
Well, if that’s not the most fucked-up thing I’ve heard all year.
I pull her finger from my mouth. “You’re joking.”
She shrugs. “Wish I was.”
I can get it to turn, but it’s not budging. She wasn’t lying, it’s stuck. “Fuck, this thing is stubborn,” I murmur, working on it.
“I know, I’ve got an appointment with the jeweler this afternoon.” She withdraws her hand and gazes out the window while trying to twist it off. She winces, tugging at it like it’s burning her flesh.
