Page 6 of Chilled and Thrilled

Sophie sighs. “I thought we weren’t going to mention it.”

“I’m sorry.”

A hook low in my abdomen tugs when her elbow brushes mine. “It’s fine. I probably ruined your shoes, so that does give you a certain amount of leverage.”

“A worthy sacrifice, then.”

“I know, right? All for the low, low price of whatever men’s shoes cost. I’m guessing… forty dollars?”

I chuckle and move the print to check another measurement unnecessarily so I can stay close to her a little while longer. The awkward, lingering discomfort that was present between us a few moments ago is fading away, and I can’t bear to leave her side. “Closer to three hundred.”

With a gasp, Sophie leans to the side to stare at me with wide, indignant eyes. I feel myself grinning. “Three hundred dollars? For shoes, Bram? What makes the three-hundred-dollar shoes any better than the, say, forty-dollar shoes?”

“Well, aside from overall higher quality?—”

“Can’t have been too much higher if they couldn’t withstand an everyday, run-of-the-mill vomit.”

“Then there’s the question of comfort, and arch support...”

Sophie waves me off, rolling her eyes. “My arches can go to hell if they need three-hundred-dollar shoes to do their job.”

Unable to find any more pretense to remain close, I straighten up. Sophie is smiling, but there’s something in hereyes that makes the deep fissure of regret in my chest widen a little further.

My transition from her best friend’s father, to her boss, to her friend, was effortless. Talking with her, making her laugh, has become the best part of my day. Now, there’s no question about it. Something has broken between us.

It’s not until I’m sitting back at my desk that I realize she never answered my question.

3

SOPHIE

“Okay, but do I look good enough to date our daughter level cute?”

Leni, who has been the main target of Honor’s holiday packing induced freakout, looks helplessly over at me from the corner of the couch. Even from across the room, I can spot an unspoken plea for help.

I set the last breakfast plate in the dishwasher and close it with a resigned sigh. “You look awesome, Honor. They’re going to love you.”

Honor, who is stationed in front of the floor-length mirror in the living room, twists to examine the effect of her travel ensemble on her butt. “You think?” she frets, tugging at the hem of her pullover. She met her girlfriend, Riley, senior year of college, and they’ve been doing the long-distance thing for the last year.

Riley is pretty aggressively fine, but my opinion might be skewed thanks to whatever psychological condition I have that’s responsible for my taste in romantic partners. I’m in no position to judge anyone, and Honor’s girlfriend of two years, while a little too into herself, is at least age appropriate. As anadded benefit, the two share no connections which would have every easily outraged grandma in the world clutching her pearls.

“Honor. What’s not to like? You’re hot, smart, and bake a mean banana bread.” I laugh, even while wishing the sharp ache in the center of my chest would back off already. Though I totally tried, it turns out Tylenol does not work for emotional pain.

Thankfully, my friend is oblivious to my inner misery because she turns to offer me and Leni an embarrassed smile. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m being like this.”

Leni curls her legs up on the couch, frowning at Honor. She’s also dressed to travel, the bedding she’s been using to crash in our living room is folded neatly beside her, and her suitcase ispacked by the door. Since her train doesn’t leave for a few hours, she’ll be hanging out here for the morning. “Is everything okay with you and Riley?” she asks cautiously.

Honor’s shoulders stiffen for a fraction of a second before she turns back to us, smiling. “Of course! Never better. I just feel bad leaving Dad on his own for Christmas. He says he has plans, though.”

Plans? Bram has plans for Christmas? What plans?

Do they include the woman he was on a date with the night of the incident (as it shall henceforth be known)? I’ve never seen her at the office, but that means nothing. Maybe they’ve been going out for months, and I’m deranged enough to read into every interaction we have, imagining something is there that isn’t.

Abruptly reaching the end of my patience with myself, I snatch my phone from the counter. “What was that kinky dating app you were telling me about, Leni?” I demand, already opening the App Store.

My roommate and her sister stare at me, bemused. “YUM? I think?” says Leni, frowning at this abrupt change in topic. “I haven’t tried it or anything.”

Of course, she wouldn’t need to. While Honor takes after their mother, Leni looks a lot like a tiny, perfect ballerina version of Bram. Her utter disinterest in dating only makes men fawn over her all the more.

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