Page 28 of The Snowball Effect

“And that meant you had permission to watch me strip?” Emma shot back, still lacking her usual Regan-inspired vigor.

“Hey, we’re both women here. I’ve seen Sutton change a million times.”

“And, for the millionth time, I’m not Sutton.”

Oh my god, did Emma really write her twenty-minute nighttime routine in her calendar? Regan leaned in for a better look, and… yeah. She sure did.

As well as her reading block before sleep.

Wow. That kind of organization was both terrifying and impressive.

“I was also curious to know if you had cute red underwear to match your bra,” Regan unthinkingly and honestly remarked, scanning her eyes over the details of Emma’s day-to-day life that she normally wasn’t privy to.

She could hear Emma pause. “I – just – you… that’s none of your business.”

Even though Emma couldn’t see her face, Regan’s mouth dropped open from the sheer shock of Emma not having the mental energy to zing back at her.

She never thought she’d see the day!

Clearly, it was because Emma had re-focused her attention back on the situation at hand. Man, Regan wondered what it was like to have a brain that could prioritize and execute so deftly.

“And, of course, she shows up at an ungodly hour, on a weekend!”

“Ehhh, I agree it’s a little early to come calling without prior notice, but I wouldn’t necessarily say after nine isungodly.”

“Whose side are you on?” Emma hissed.

Regan spun around, thrilled. “Wait. Do you want me to be on your side? I think this is a momentous occasion for us.”

She could tell from Emma’s glare that she took Regan’s comment as teasing, but she’d been very serious.

Emma didn’t verbally acknowledge her. “And now, not only do I miss out on my day to sleep in, but I also have to go out there and figure out how to tell her – in the most delicate way possible – that I lied to her about my relationship status to avoid spending time with her!”

Regan hadn’t known what to expect from Emma beyondit’s complicated, but… huh. Okay.

Maybe it was a relief to know that while Emma didn’t seek out Regan’s company, she seemed to slot higher on Emma’s list of preferred company than her mom?

The flush on Emma’s cheeks and the obvious stress riddling her expression pushed the words from Regan’s mouth before she could even fully process them. “Why do you have to tell her that?”

Emma paused while combing her fingers through her soft, honey-colored hair, staring quizzically at Regan. “What?”

“Why do you have to tell her the truth?” Regan clarified.

Emma’s hands fell heavily to her sides, the look in her eyes suspicious. “What are you saying?”

Tapping her fingers together in thought, Regan tilted her head to the side. “I don’t know. What’s the big deal if she thinks we’re in a relationship if it helps you out? I don’t care if she thinks that.”

“You don’t,” Emma slowly repeated, staring at her. “You don’t care… that my mom thinks we’re in a relationship?”

Regan shook her head, trying to sort through her feelings on the matter to make sure she was telling the truth. But she wasn’t getting that weird, gnawing feeling in her stomach like she did when she felt like she was doing something wrong. “It’s not like I’m actually dating anyone.” Which she imagined might be her biggest issue. “I’ll just be having a bagel with a woman I barely know while calling you snookums.”

Emma shuddered. “Do not.”

Regan’s grin crept over her face. “My little sweetie baby honey pie.” She winked before making an exaggerated kissy face at Emma, taking a far stronger delight in it than even she’d imagined.

“I think I’d rather tell her the truth,” Emma deadpanned.

“Your prerogative.” She shrugged.

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