Page 88 of Bound By Crimson

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Kat eyed her. “You okay? You look kinda pale.”

“Didn’t sleep well,” Lyric murmured. “I’m fine.”

They worked in tandem for the next hour—Kat adjusting displays, chattering nonstop. Lyric nodded when necessary, but her thoughts floated elsewhere.

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Around noon, Kat plopped her bag on the back counter and pulled out a sandwich.

“Oh thank God,” she said, unwrapping it. “I was about to gnaw on my purse!”

Lyric turned slightly—and froze.

The smell hit her hard.

Tuna.

Warm, pungent, aggressively real.

Her throat closed.

Kat looked up. “Whoa. That bad?”

Lyric clamped a hand over her mouth and bolted for the bathroom.

Again.

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When she came back out, Kat was halfway through her sandwich and watching her like a hawk.

“You’re sure you’re okay?”

Lyric wiped her mouth with a tissue, her voice hoarse. “It’s just a stomach thing.”

Kat narrowed her eyes.

“Okay, don’t hate me for asking this, but… is there any chance you might be pregnant?”

Lyric blinked. “What?”

“I’m just saying!” Kat shrugged. “I’ve heard smell sensitivity is a thing. Like, one of my coworkers got nauseous every time someone opened a bag of barbecue chips. Couldn’t even walk past the vending machine without gagging.”

Lyric’s stomach turned again.

“No,” she said too quickly. “I’m not pregnant.”

“Okay! Just checking. You look kinda freaked though.”

“I just haven’t been sleeping. Or eating right. I’ve been stressed.”

Kat held up her hands. “Say no more.”

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That afternoon, she asked Kat if she’d be willing to start opening the shop each morning.

“Of course!” Kat beamed. “I’m basically allergic to sleeping in anyway.”

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