Page 98 of When The Rain Falls

"What's all this?" I ask, waving my hand around the disaster on my counter. Ruby and Vivian exchange uneasy glances.

"We made cookies," Ruby says.

Vivian hoists a plate with a tower of cookies towards me. "Try one." I study the plate.Goddammit. They think they can just distract me with cookies. I grab the top cookie off the stack and bite into it. It's gooey, and warm, and melts into my mouth.

Goddammit, theycanjust distract me with cookies.

"That's good," I say.

"Why do you look so surprised?" Aimee asks. Based on how Aimee approaches everything else in her life, haphazard and carefree, I had low expectations for her baking skills.

Vivian sets down the plate and takes one for herself. "Hey, Aimee. How old are you?" Vivian asks. I should probably know the answer to this question.

Aimee's standing in front of the open oven. She bends down to inspect the contents of a baking tray. Which gives me an excellent view of her backside. I think about taking that backside between my hands as I take another bite of the cookie.

"Twenty-seven," she says. Her answer sends air whooshing into my throat, pulling a large chunk of cookie down with it. I choke and pound my chest, lodging the cookie chunk free and gulping down a full breath of air. Aimee turns to inspect me. Did she say twenty-seven? Twenty-fucking-seven? As in I'm fifteen years older than she is? Holy fucking God.

"You ok?" Aimee asks, pulling off an oven mitt. I nod my head and clear my throat. I've recovered. Well, physically anyway.

Vivian grabs another cookie.

"No more of those," I choke out. "It's almost dinner time." I’m trying to change the subject more than I’m trying to scold Vivian.Twenty-fucking-seven.

"But I'm starving," she whines.

"When was the last time you ate a vegetable?"

"I can't remember," Aimee chimes in. "I might have had a salad last week?"

"For one," I turn to Aimee, "I wasn't talking to you. And two, are you kidding me?" I huff at her. "How can you not remember the last time you ate a vegetable?"

"Oh," her face lights up, "I had some bell peppers last Friday."

"Not a vegetable," I scold.

"What?

"Bell peppers aren't vegetables. They're fruit."

"What?" She looks at me completely shocked. Like I just told her that I've been abducted by aliens. "No way. You're lying."

"Why would I lie about this?" I throw my hands in the air in front of us. "Bell peppers have seeds. So they're fruit."

"A cucumber has seeds andit'sa vegetable," she says stubbornly. I raise my eyebrows at her and wait for the realization to sink in.

"No," she shrieks, legitimately horrified.

"Yep."

"I've been lied to my whole life!"

"Lied to? By who?"

"It'swhom, bear."

"For fuck's sake. Don't change the subject. Not when I'm winning," I push back.

Aimee leans back against the counter, her hand falling over her mouth. "I’ve been believing lies my whole life! My whole life is built entirely on lies.”

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