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She winked, turning away with a pep in her step. “Uh-huh. Well, enjoy. By the way, Gwen’s hosting boardgame night again tomorrow night, so if you’re still here for it…”
“I’m not going to all the events,” I said, but I might as well have been talking to the wind—she skipped lightly from the room, leaving me in the dark, closed-down bakery.
Maybe I should have locked that damn back door. But… this was Paisley’s bakery now, not mine. I couldn’t do that kind of thing for her.
Paisley’s bakery. Who would have thought the day would come?
When I got back upstairs, I stepped into the living room, where the warm autumnal sunlight spilled in long rectangles from the windows and stretched across the coffee table and the couch, where Paisley lay with her nose in a book and her blonde hair, dark roots starting to show, falling in messy waves around her head. She looked up from the book, and the transformation in her face when she saw me—the shift from a bored halfway-there look to that brilliant glowing smile—it ached like something lodged in my chest.
“Hey, you,” she said, tossing the book aside. Pop science guide to quantum physics, apparently. Who knew what it would be next with Paisley? She propped herself up on her elbow,turning to face me. “Thought it was, like, Aria or something coming to harass me when I heard the door open. Figured I’d just start howling until she left.”
“I can’t tell you how flattered I am to not get the howling treatment.”
“You should be flattered. I like you a lot. That’s rare from someone as cynical and blackhearted as I am.”
“Uh-huh…” I handed over the letter. “Annabel’s going old-school and wrote you a letter.”
“Oh, sweet,” she said, sitting up and taking the letter. “Must be the updates on the gutter cheese situation.”
I paused. “The… what situation?”
She didn’t look up from where she was tearing the letter open. “Decided to try out making cheese in a gutter. You know, help develop a seasoned rind.”
I stared.
“I’m kidding. I have no clue what the letter is.”
“I actually kind of believed it, coming from you.”
She grinned, and her smile faded once she slid the letter out, scrunching up her face in confusion—and then a small, soft smile before she put it back. I frowned.
“What is it? Are you and Annabel exchanging love letters?”
She set the letter down gently, reverently. “Oh, what’s that? Are you getting jealous at the thought of me with Annabel?”
“I—” I folded my arms, looking away. “I’m just curious what it was.”
She fell back in the couch, kicking one foot up on the coffee table. “It’s a love letter.”
“Uh-huh.” I ignored the sick feeling in my stomach.
“I mean, her girlfriend is going to be traveling for months. We know she’s going to find a dozen girls to keep her company here in Bayview.”
“Youarejoking, right?”
“What, you don’t think I’m hot enough for Annabel? She hit on me the first time we met.”
“Yeah—I know.” I rubbed my forehead. “If you don’t want to tell me what’s in the letter, you can just say.”
She laughed, folding her hands behind her head. “I already did. It’s a love letter. Written for a little bird come to the stables to roost on the broad side of the barn.”
She’d gotten worse at figures of speech. “I’m glad you seem to be feeling better,” I sighed, and she dropped her arms, looking away, a serious expression creeping over her face.
“Oh, yeah… definitely feeling more myself. And I appreciated the break today.”
I sat down on the couch next to her, resting forward with my elbows on my knees, looking down at the floor. A sick, anxious feeling churned in my stomach, and I tried not to think about it too much right now. “When even was the last time you took a break?”
“Oh, pff…” She shrugged. “Probably, like, neolithic.”
