Page 76 of Ten Rules for Faking It
Unless you’ve finally maxed out her patience.Unlike chocolate, caffeine, or batteries, there was such a thing as too much where Everly was concerned.
It’s going to be time for you to go to work if you don’t knock one day soon. Just go in.She knocked with her free hand, keeping her fingers curled into her palm when she lowered her arm. Seconds that felt like minutes passed without response. She knocked again, curled her fingers deeper, and wished she’d remembered to put Pepper Potts in her pocket. Yes, she’d named her squishy cat from Chris. No one had to know.
The door swung open, and Stacey appeared, looking less than impressed. Her hair was knotted into a messy bun more on the side of her head than the top. She wore an oversize hoodie and loose flannel pants and a scowl.
Everly didn’t cover her shock with any amount of grace. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without makeup.”
Stacey yawned, not bothering to cover her mouth. “Well, if that was your goal, showing up at the crack of dawn is the way to do it.” Her squinty gaze focused on the bag in Everly’s hand. “What’s that?”
Everly gave her best “I’m sorry I’m high maintenance” smile. “Double chocolate fudge doughnuts. From Baked.”
Stacey stepped back. “Permission to enter, granted.” Once she’d shut the door to the tiny bungalow home, she grabbed the bag. “Gimme.”
Laughing, Everly followed her into the kitchen. The bungalow used to belong to Stacey’s grandmother, but she’d inherited it after her grandmother’s passing several years earlier. It was part of her decision to settle in San Verde despite opportunities to work at bigger stations.
While Stacey started coffee, Everly glanced around the kitchen. Dishes from the night before, and probably the night before that, were stacked on the counter. Old newspapers sat on the small round table. In the window over the table, a once-leafy plant drooped.
Everly went to the sink, grabbed a glass from the cupboard, and turned on the water. She poured a small amount on the plant, waiting for it to drain into the tray below, listening to the sounds of Stacey grinding beans and shuffling around.
Her skin felt too tight. She hated fighting. Hated conflict. Especially when she was the source.
“Thanks. If I ever have kids, they’re going to be in trouble if you don’t visit more often,” Stacey said, jutting her chin in the plant’s direction when Everly set the glass on the counter.
Taking a deep breath, trying to fill her lungs with courage,she faced her friend. “Tell me what to do to make us okay. I’m sorry I was a spaz at the gym last night. I’m sorry I left, that I overreacted. I’m sorry I’m high maintenance, fussy, and all the other adjectives you could probably label me with. But along with the negative ones, likefinickyoranal,I want you to know you can also addloyal, loving, trustworthy,andreliable.”
Stacey blinked several times, leaning against the edge of her aged countertop. “That was alotbefore coffee. What are you even talking about?”
The air whooshed out of Everly’s lungs. “I can’t stand you being mad at me.”
“Good thing I’m not, then. Have you been up for hours worrying about this?” Stacey’s eyes narrowed.
Of course. Unnecessarily so, apparently.Everly scoffed, averted her eyes. “No. Hardly. Whatever.”
“You forgotconvincingon your list of adjectives.”
Stacey turned and grabbed two cups from the glass-fronted cupboard.
“Maybe it’s time to see someone,” Stacey said quietly.
Everly purposely sidestepped this. “I’m seeing too many people. This is part of why we can’t be fighting. I need you. I’m multi-dating.”
Stacey spun. “What?”
“You heard me. You can’t be mad at me. I need you.”
“I’m not mad at you. We’re circling back to the ‘you shouldtalkto someone who can help you work through your anxiety’ conversation because I’m sure you’ve created new indents in your skin worrying about something that wasn’t a problem. Now, if you value your life and want me to share the doughnuts, tell me what you mean bymulti-dating.”
Everly opened her mouth.
Stacey held up a hand. “Wait. Let me grab the coffee; you get the doughnuts and meet me in the living room.”
All breathing functions returned to normal, and adrenaline pumped through Everly’s veins. They were okay.No reason toworry. Ah, but then what would you do with your time?It’d be interesting to find out.
The living room was completely retro, but by current decorating standards, it was hard to tell if it was on purpose or because Stacey had never updated after her grandmother died. After removing the box from Baked from the bag and setting it on the coffee table, Everly curled up in the yellow wingback chair, tugging the soft crocheted throw over her legs. Stacey joined her only a minute later, setting both coffees on the table. She tugged two napkins out of the pocket of her hoodie.
“Explain yourself, Dean.”
Everly smiled. “First, are you sure we’re okay? I felt like we didn’t leave things okay last night.”
