Page 14 of Merrily Ever After
“I think they were brothers.”
The hand goes to her face. “Whydid you read them?”
“Why not?” I ask, amused. “You liked them. I figured they were good.”
She doesn’t move for a long second and then she takes a deep, heavy breath.
“Okay,” she mumbles, dropping her hand. “That’s fine. It’s fine.”
“Did you read anything good on the plane?” I want to laugh when she just groans. “How can you read that stuff and then blush every time you talk about them?”
“Because I don’t usually talk about them!”
“I thought you went to a book club.”
“We don’t read those kinds of books there.”
“Then it sounds like you need a new club.”
“Maybe.” She sighs. “Though part of the fun of them is not having to think too much. I read them to escape.”
“Like going to the Canaries,” I say solemnly, and she rolls her eyes. But she’s smiling while she does it.
“How long did it take you to do all of this anyway?” she asks, gazing up at the stars hanging from the ceiling.
“You’re changing the subject.”
“Yes.”
“Three days,” I say, giving in. “Should have taken two but I panicked about the lack of tinsel.”
“Half this room is tinsel.”
“Leaving the other half bereft.”
“You didn’t need to do it,” she says, her voice soft. “But I’m grateful you did.”
“What are best friends for?” I go to chuck her under the chin just as her eyes drop to mine and, for a second, I see it. Something achingly warm and beautifully bright. But then she blinks and it disappears, and the air between us turns strange once more.
“What is it?” I ask. Because something’s going on and I’m getting fed up not knowing. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Something.”
“I’m just tired.” She sits up straight, her expression tight. “Would you stop staring at me?”
“But you’re so pretty.”
“Oh, for—that!” she says, startling me. “That’s what’s wrong.”
“What is?”
“The teasing! The compliments and the flirting and thewe’ll have to share body heat. That.” Her hands come down with a thump on the blanket, her outburst over as quickly as it began. I feel like she’s whacked me in the face all over again.
“I didn’t know it bothered you,” I say when she doesn’t continue. “I’m sorry. I’ll stop.”
She stares bleakly ahead, not seeming to have heard me.
