Page 91 of Juniper Bean Resorts to Murder

“So if you’re attracted to her, that means you like her on some level, right?” she goes on.

“Yes,” I say, trying to quell my frustration with my weird brain. “But that’s not enough for me to go on.Liking her on some leveldoesn’t mean I should pursue her. So how do I know?”

“I don’t know,” Caroline says with a sigh. “You just…likeher. You miss her when she’s not around. You’re excited to see her. You want to take care of her.”

“But we argue all the time.”

“Well, do youlikearguing with her?”

I do. I really do.

“And is it really arguing? Or is itbickering? Because there’s a difference.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Bickering is petty back-and-forth stuff. Arguing is like, actualargumentsthat get heated or whatever.”

Our arguments do get heated, on a certain level—just not the way Caroline is probably thinking.

She doesn’t need to know that.

Another thought springs to mind, though, one that has my heart pumping with anxiety. “And what if—what if there’s something I’m keeping from her?”

“Hmm,” Caroline says. It’s not even a full word, but I can tell she’s dying to know.

“I’m not going to tell you,” I say, my voice gruff. “Don’t bother asking.”

When she answers, she sounds surlier than normal. “Fine. Is it something big?”

“Kind of.” I swallow. “Yes.”

“Will it change her opinion of you?”

“Possibly.” A few weeks ago I would have given a definiteyesto that question, but I’m not so sure now.

“Then you absolutely cannot pursue her until you tell her. Under any circumstances.”

My heart sinks to hear her confirming the thought that’s been peeking around the corners in my mind. “Yeah,” I say, my voice heavy. “Okay.” I pause and then add, “Thanks.”

“Of course,” she says cheerfully. “This is what sisters are for.”

“Really? Because I seem to recall you telling me one time that your primary role in my life was to keep me humble,” I say.

“Well, that too,” she says. “Let me know how it goes. And by that I mean, let me know if you feel like sharing more details. There are questions I’mdyingto ask.”

“I bet you are,” I mutter. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye!” she says, and then she hangs up.

And I’m left with my racing thoughts. How do I tell Juniper what I’ve been keeping from her? And how is she going to feel about me when she finds out?

22

IN WHICH JUNIPER FINDS THE FUCHSIA

Waking up in Aiden’s bed feels weird and surreal and way too good. This is not something I should get used to. But that doesn’t stop me from memorizing every inch of how I see the room from where I lie sprawled starfish-style. The side he slept on has long since gone cold, and I’ve migrated to the middle of the mattress. I take in the ceiling fan, impressed by how quietly it rotates, and I examine the way the dust particles dance in the stream of light coming through the window.

I wonder if Aiden has laid in this exact spot looking at that exact stream of light. Did all the dust make him want to clean?

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