Page 75 of The Fiancée Farce
Tansy’s eyes dipped briefly to the box before darting back to Gemma. “Oh.”
“Here.” Gemma drew the lid back, revealing a dozen ooey, gooey, sticky buns, still hot from the oven. “They’re from Cinnamon Works. I didn’t know what you liked.” She cringed. “SoI brought you my favorite. They’re the best. And you deserve the best,so.”
Tansy hauled herself to standing, eyes flitting over Gemma’s face and—Gemma had done this all wrong.
Brooks was right. She should’ve bought a boat after all.
“I tried to get them to write,Sorry I’m an emotionally stunted bitchin gel frosting, but apparently that’s not something they do.” She forced a laugh that sounded hollow. Her mouth was dry. Why was her mouth so goddamn dry? “The guy working the register looked at me like I was crazy, because not only is itnotsomething they do, apparently they don’t get many requests for it, either.”
How exactly were the singletons of Seattle wooing their prospective significant others? Were they even putting in effort? Evidently not. Sadly.
“You didn’t have to do that. And I don’t think you’re emotionally stunted. Or a bitch.”
Gemma huffed. “Verdict’s out on both those fronts.”
Tansy frowned. “Maybe I’m a little slow on the uptake, but I’m confused. Not that I don’t like sticky buns, but what exactly did I do to deserve them?”
Tansy deserved a hell of a lot more than sticky buns, as Gemma planned to prove.
But all in good time. It would do no good to come on too strong, too fast.
“Tansy, I heard you loud and clear back at the Mayflower this afternoon.” She set down the box and clutched the counter, nails biting into the scarred wood that had seen better days, indents from pen pressure marring the surface. “I get it. Why you pumped the brakes on this. On us. Really, I do. And I respect it. But I did get to thinking. About what you said. WhatIsaid. What I felt and why I felt it. Bereft, like I was losing something. Losing you.And I think I might’ve been a little hasty about drawing a line in the sand the way I did.”
Tansy’s hands skimmed the counter, finding a pen to fiddle with. She turned it between her fingers, fumbling it to the floor almost immediately. “Line in the sand?”
“You know,” Gemma said, clutching the counter harder. “Um, regretfully, I was alittledrunk at the wedding, so I probably can’t recite it verbatim, but something, something, no romance. Something, something, I’m a frigid bitch with trust issues. Something, something, business partnership?” She grinned, holding the box of pastries aloft. “Something, something, please forgive me and consider these cinnamon buns a sincere apology on my part for being a dumbass?”
“You don’t have anything to apologize for.” Tansy’s smile was too compassionate for her own good. For Gemma’s good, too. “We agreed to be honest with each other and—”
“What if what I want changed?” Her mouth was dry, her palms damp. Stupid nerves. “You don’t do casual, and I respect that. I do. So let’s not be casual.”
Tansy looked adorably confused. “Meaning?”
“Meaning”—Gemma set the box of pastries down on the counter before she lost her grip on it—“go out with me.”
Tansy turned, looking over her shoulder at a clock on the wall. “We’ve got a book launch scheduled at six, followed by a signing right after. But we close at eight, if you wanted to come back—”
“Tansy.” Oh God help her, she sounded fond. “I meant, date me.”
Tansy looked at her sharply. “What?”
“I said—”
“No, no, I heard you the first time. I’m just... sorry, I’m confused.”
Gemma wiped her palms against her thighs. “What’s there to be confused about?”
Tansy went to set her arm on the counter and missed, her elbow slipping straight off the edge. She cleared her throat, cheeks going crimson as she busied herself straightening a stack of flyers beside the register. “Um, all of it?”
Subtlety wasn’t her forte, apparently. “Be my girlfriend.”
Tansy’s jaw dropped. “Your—I can’t be your girlfriend.”
Okay, safe to say this was officially not going the way she’d planned, the way she’d hoped.
She crossed her arms and shifted her weight from one foot to the other, feeling oddly exposed. “Why not?”
Tansy had the audacity to laugh. Granted, it was a dry, frazzled sound, but still. Not the reaction a girl was looking for when putting herself out there, making herself vulnerable. Opening herself up to,fuck, rejection. “You’re my fiancée, for one. I can’t be your girlfriend and your fiancée.”
