Page 44 of A Conflict of Interest

“Oh my god, stop,” I laughed, swatting her hand playfully across the table before I’d really realized it—just the small, casual gestures like when we’d been together. They came so easily it was scary. I guess this meant now Icouldinvite Nic to come try the charcuterie boards with me. It was just a matter of whether I should. “I’m not gonna pretend I wasn’t looking up all kinds of inspirations online trying to impress…” Speaking ofshould, I probablyshouldn’thave been talking to Veronica about how much of a crush I’d had on her as Nic too. I guess it was obvious, and I’d given her an opening, but she didn’t take it, just smiling brightly.

“They were impressive,” she said. “You should have had yours on those pins. They looked better than some of the ones I saw floating around in highlights.”

“Oh, psh. Now you’re just trying to flatter me.”

She grinned. “I haven’t even started with that. Don’t tempt me. Could even start talking about how cute your manicure is, because I can tell it’s fresh and I know how you love showing them off.”

I giggled, flashing my nails at her. “That’s right! I got all polished up for…” In a daydreamy fantasy that I’d meet Nic and I wanted to be pretty for her. Guess I did meet her. And she did think I was pretty. “For, uh, getting semi-fired. I mean, they were due for a retouch anyway, just some awkward timing.”

She glanced down at her nails. “I’ve just had these ghastly things for a minute now… maybe it’s time I get them done again. What should I do with them?”

“Um, something Christmas themed, obviously. ‘Tis the season.”

“‘Tis.”

I faltered. “So… did you order anything?”

“Order?” She stirred out of looking at me, turning her gaze back to the counter. “Oh, yeah. Damn, I’m kinda famished. I’d forgotten where I was.”

She’d been so engrossed in staring at me that she’d forgotten she was at a sandwich shop. That wasn’t what you did if you just saw someone as one-night-stand material, was it?

Of course, I’d thought that the last time too—that she seemed so serious, that she seemed to really mean it this time.

“Well, count on me to remind you about food,” I said lightly. “It’s kinda my thing.”

“You’re kinda my…” She stopped herself, scrunching up her face, and she flushed, standing up. “Sorry. Please forget I said anything. I’m gonna go order. Do you want me to order anything for you?”

I didn’t know how to processshy blushing Veronica.“I already ordered, Vee.”

“Oh. Damn, I was checked out. All right, I’ll, uh, I’ll be right back.”

I’d meant to come here and talk serious things, but it was hard to focus onseriousanything when Veronica was sitting across from me with that glow in her eyes that was so nostalgic,mixed with something I wasn’t used to seeing—that unabashed sense of… adoration. Like she’d have been happy to spend her days doing nothing but sitting there staring at me.

I didn’t hate it… I didn’t think I’d ever felt so—important, in all my life, as I did when she was looking at me like that.

I was checked out hard too, because I didn’t even notice they’d called my order or that Veronica was coming back to the table until she slid back in across from me with my order in hand, a French dip sandwich with thick-cut fries.

“Oh, god, thank you,” I said. “I forgot I ordered.”

“Mostly, I’m just glad to know I’m not the only clueless one here.”

I beamed, relaxing back into my seat. “If you’re clueless, then I’m clueless. What’d you order? I’m not starting until you have yours too. It’s only polite.”

“Turkey breast farmhouse style, with baked sweet potato fries so I feel healthy, an extra-large order so I don’t feel too healthy. For real, though, you should eat while it’s hot. You appreciate food too much to let it go to waste.”

I stuck out my tongue. “I’mone of those ‘foodie’ people who gets excited over a new kind of balsamic vinegar,is what you mean to say.”

She laughed, resting her elbows on the table and just—lookingat me again in that way that unleashed a whole butterfly garden in my stomach, looking like nobody in the world had ever been as in love as she was. “Youareone of those foodie people who gets excited over a new kind of balsamic vinegar,” she said, just like she’d said once before, but this time she said it like it was the greatest thing any human being had ever been. I fidgeted with a flush prickling my cheeks.

“Psh… don’t tell me you’ve gotten into infused balsamics too.”

“The mango-infused balsamic drizzle from the independent market is really good on vanilla ice cream.”

She’d even taken to trying infused balsamic vinegars because I liked them. Oh my god. What if I was living in a world where I got to go out with Veronica Preston and try new foods together with her? And I just hadn’t realized it?

“I can’t believe I suckered you in with that,” I laughed, and she made a face.

“Honestly, me neither. Sometimes I catch myself being likeooh, black-truffle-infused olive oil,and I’m like… I don’t know what’s happened to me. Anyway, eat your food so I get to tease your for how you managed to get dip on every part of you while you eat.”

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