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“Are you sure you like it?” Lexie asked quietly.
My spoon was stabbed into a scoop and my knuckles were white. “I—yes.” How did I explain I’d lost my appetite for reasons that had nothing to do with her?
I forced another bite in my mouth, not wanting to insult them.
Eric showed me every piece in his toolbox while I struggled to give him my full attention. I was interested, but I’d rocketed to a bad place and wasn’t used to having an audience for that.
Lexie touched his knee. “Go get the painting you finished last week.”
He was off again.
She picked up his empty ice cream bowl. “You can sneak out now.”
I blinked at her. “I beg your pardon.”
“Your eyes are glazed over. He’ll forgive you if you want to go.”
I snapped out of my funk. “I’m interested.”
“Oh yeah?” She picked up some shiny metal tool. “What’s this?”
I opened my mouth and closed it.
“That’s what I thought.”
Shit. I’d pissed her off without meaning to, and this time it wasn’t fun.
“You can’t get rid of me that easily.” Why had I said that? Why was I shifting the blame to her?
She flipped on the faucet. Was she trying to drown me out?
“I didn’t know it was time to do dishes. I’ll help.” Eric dropped the canvas from his hands and detoured to the sink.
It wasn’t my home, but I felt like a chump for not thinking of volunteering to help too. I finished my ice cream and shrugged off my jacket. Once I set my bowl on the counter, I rolled up my sleeves.
“What are you doing?” Lexie asked sharply.
“Dishes.” I picked up a towel and dried the plate she’d just rinsed.
“Go away.” She clamped her lips shut like she hadn’t meant to speak her mind. Or maybe not that way in front of Eric.
But it was refreshing.
I took the clean fork from her fingers, surprised that I was doing something so mundane as wiping up dishes. My life was so rarely unscripted . . . that this felt odd, but strangely good. Leave. Go, like Lexie wants. But . . . “Don’t think I can do that.”
