Page 19 of The Snowball Effect

“Regan?” She called out into the apartment, cautiously optimistic as she closed the door behind her.

She stilled, straining to keep an ear out to detect any signs of life from within. When there was no response to her shout, she nearly did a little victory dance. If she weren’t still so freakinghot, she might have.

She didn’t need to call out again, not when she was met with resounding silence. No music playing from behind Regan’s closed bedroom door – loud enough that she could always hear it from anywhere in the apartment – and TV wasn’t on in the living room, either.

Entirely unsurprisingly, Regan did not exist quietly. Ever. When she was home, Emma was very well aware of that fact.

Walking into the kitchen, she checked the calendar on the side of the fridge. The one that Regan hadfinallystarted to fill out in the last week, ever since she’d nearly murdered Emma.

Things had been better between them since then, Emma would admit. It took almost killing her, but Regan had started to actually adhere to the contract she’d apparently pretended to agree to weeks ago.

She’d given Emma a wide berth in the last six days, only making short, direct conversation when they incidentally runinto one another. She’d made a point to text Emma a picture of everything that hadanymention of nuts on the label in the trash the morning after the hospital trip. And she’d taken to writing her work schedule on their calendar.

The schedule in question informed Emma that Regan was working a double today. She wouldn’t be off shift until ten, which meant she wouldn’t be home until atleastmidnight, given that she typically seemed to like to hang out with her coworkers for a while after work.

Emma grinned brightly; it seemed she was able to experience a lucky break from time to time, after all.

With that knowledge, she reached down to tug off her T-shirt right there in the kitchen, relishing the feeling of the air-conditioned temperature directly on her body.

And with Regan at work tonight, Emma had the perfect opportunity to sit down and try to get some real writing done for the first time in a month. Maybe she could start to draft her latest book review!

During the week, Emma was so busy with Allegra’s schedule that it was impossible to find the time and energy to do any writing of her own. And during the last few weekends, it seemed something had consistently popped up – first, she’d been unpacking from her move, the weekend after she’d taken her Gram to one of her physical therapy follow-ups and had spent the day with her, and last weekend she’d been recovering from her near-death experience.

She’d have a simple dinner first. She knew she had some chicken salad in the fridge that she’d had for lunch at work for the last few days…

Emma stopped short as soon as she opened the refrigerator. Because it was empty.

Not completely; condiments were still lining the door, and drinks were on the top shelf. But all of the actualfoodthat had been in there was gone.

Squeezing her eyes tightly closed, she dropped her head back in annoyance as she shut the fridge.

Only to snap her head up a moment later as she heard the front door open and close in one quick motion before footsteps bounded down the short hallway leading to the archway of the kitchen. In several short moments, Regan came into her view, stumbling to a stop upon seeing Emma.

Regan’s eyebrows lifted high on her forehead as her gaze slid down and focused below Emma’s face. “Huh.”

Confusion slid through her, but only for a few seconds before Emma realized that she was standing in the middle of their kitchen, topless.

Cheeks flaming with embarrassment, she tugged her balled-up T-shirt up over her chest and stomach. She recovered from her surprise enough to snap, “What are you doing here?”

“I live here,” Regan answered, and Emma honestly wasn’t sure if Regan was just stating a fact or if she was trying to be a smart aleck, but it still rankled.

Clinging to that annoyance – because it was better than embarrassment by a mile – she grit her teeth. “I’m all too aware of that. But you were supposed to be at work until ten.”

The calendar to prove it was hanging on the fridge, right next to her!

Regan shrugged, still staring unrepentantly at Emma’s chest in spite of the T-shirt Emma held up. “Right. Yeah. Ishouldstill be at work. Only, Topped Off – and, actually, that entire block – is experiencing a total blackout. Just like the one we had here. So, after an hour, I decided to shut down for the evening. God forbid people start crowding into our non-air-conditionedconfined quarters, demanding caffeine from machines that aren’t working.” She shuddered. “Anyway. Here I am.”

As she finished with her explanation, Regan lifted her gaze up again, and a mischievous smile took up residence on her face. “I definitely didn’t think I’d be interrupting your… special alone time.”

“Youaren’t,” she bit out, even though Regan kind of definitely was. But not any sort of explicit alone time, as Regan was clearly implying. Pivoting away from that before Regan could run with it, she gestured at the refrigerator. “Where’s my chicken salad?”

Regan’s eyebrows furrowed in obvious confusion for several moments before something dawned on her. “Oh! I had to throw it out. And the other perishables we had in there. The power was off for a few hours, and I was worried that something smelled… not right? I couldn’t determine what it was, but I didn’t want to chance it.”

Emma stared, feeling like she was on crazy pills. “So, you got rid of everything. Evenmythings.”

Regan stared right back. “Obviously. I’ve already been responsible for you going to the hospital for food-related causes; I wasn’t going to keep something in the fridge that could make you sick again.”

Reaching up to rub her temples, Emmatriedto breathe through her irritation.

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