Page 66 of Broken Dream
“Yeah, I was, but I’d rather have coffee with you.” I force a smile.
She grins. “Great, because I want to talk to you about something.”
Crap.
Has Ralph talked to her? Does she know about Jason’s and my kiss?
“You look all flushed,” she says, touching my cheek. “Are you feeling okay?”
“I’m fine.”
Then she touches my forehead. “I don’t know, Angie. You might have a slight fever.”
I can’t help a soft chuckle. It’s a medical student thing. After one semester, most medical students are convinced they can diagnose anything.
“I don’t have a fever, Tabitha. I’m fine.”
“If you say so.” She hands me a cup of the coffee she brought. “Black, no cream and sugar. I remember.”
I take it and click the paper cup to hers. “Cheers.”
She laughs and takes a sip of the—most likely triple mocha—in her cup.
Yeah, it is. She has a slight whipped-cream moustache that she licks off.
I gesture her over to the counter, where she takes a seat. “You hungry? I made some scrambled eggs earlier. I can make some more. Or I have some croissants. My cousin on the Western Slope made them. They’re the best you’ll ever eat.”
“Don’t mind if I do,” Tabitha says.
I walk to the fridge, but she’s right on my heels. Damn. She really does want to talk to me about something.
I grab a couple of Ava’s croissants out of the fridge, heat them for a few seconds in the microwave, and then grab some of my mom’s spiced peach jam.
“Here you go.” I put a croissant on a plate and hand it to her. “Have a seat.” I bring the jam over to the table and offer it to her. “My mom makes this stuff from our Western Slope peaches. It’s the bomb.”
Tabitha spreads some over her croissant and takes a bite. “Oh my God,” she says. “I think I just had a tiny orgasm.”
I laugh.
I’m beginning to really like Tabitha. She reminds me of Sage, my sister. So outgoing and always up for a good time.
“Glad you like it. I’ll let my mom know that her jam is orgasmic.”
She closes her eyes. “Not just the jam, but the croissant. You come from a talented family.”
She’s not wrong. I’ve always felt like I’m the one who has no talent. I’m not outgoing, not an artist like Gina, I can’t cook like my mom, bake like Ava, make wine like Dale and Uncle Ryan.
But what I can do is care. Have empathy. Which is why I decided to follow Aunt Melanie into psychiatry.
“So…” Tabitha begins.
Shit. Here it comes. She’s going to mention?—
“What do you think of Ralph?” she asks.
I raise my eyebrows. Ralph? Okay. Not what I was expecting. She’s the one who said he was being a dick yesterday. Unless he told her what he saw…
“Honestly?” I ask.
