Page 150 of Friends Don't Kiss

“We don’t know yet, you inter-rupted Daddy!” Skye pipes in from the other end of the bar.

All eyes converge on Chris. “And you know how we put up a collection to pay for his flight to bring all this shit to Paris, right?”

Alex, sensing her fiancé’s anger, places herself to his side so she can rub his back.

Justin nods to encourage him to keep talking. “What happened? Did Kiara drop out? Hell, s’long as she comes back here, we don’t care, do we?”

“What happened is that Ms. Plum, all along, knew that the capstone project was a black box.”

“What’s ’at mean?” Willow asks. At some point Skye climbed on her lap to hear better, and Willow is now twirling the child’s hair in her finger.

Annabel clears her throat. “It means she’s not allowed to use any outside ingredients. They all get the same assignment, and they all get the same ingredients.”

Willow slams her fist on the bar. “I knew it!” she hisses. “But no one would listen to me!”

“Why would you let us do that?” Noah asks. “This makes no sense.”

Annabel pulls her bandana off, unruly strawberry blond and silver curls springing free as she scratches her head. “You guys were just so… so loving and caring. I never had that.” Her eyes moisten a bit. “Iknow how much you mean to Kiara. I don’t know thatsheknows how much she meansto you. The idea of doing that was just so… loving… and generous.” Her chin wobbles a bit, and she takes a deep breath to center herself. “I wanted her to feel how loved she was. And I thought Colton bringing all this to her would…solidifythis.”

The room is silent, everyone dealing with their own reaction to this revelation.

Annabel breaks the silence. “I feel guilty for pushing her to go to Paris. I was thinking how it was for me, back then. But she has something good here, and I don’t want her to miss out on a life in Emerald Creek, with all of you, and Colton. I… I didn’t know how to tell her. She’s been emailing me from Paris, asking me for professional advice. She’s treating me like a mentor, and while I’m honored to be that for her life as a pastry chef, I can’t possibly let that be her whole life. I wanted her tosee, tofeel, totouch, what she was going to miss out on if she takes on an international career.”

Chris exhales loudly, takes Alex in a closer embrace, and grunts. Justin mindlessly rubs Chloe’s back. Cassandra slides behind the bar, makes a Shirley Temple for Skye, then starts pouring everyone a shot of Whistle Pig.

Skye stifles a burp, then breaks the silence, expressing the general opinion. “He’s gonna feel so weiiiiird.”

The visual of Colton in a flannel shirt and muddy boots showing up in a hoity-toity Parisian building with a suitcase full of smuggled cheddar cheese and maple syrup is on everyone’s mind.

“Aaaah fuck,” Willow says, then, “sorry for the language, kid.”

“Best-case scenario, he’s held up at customs,” Noah says.

Willow turns around to face him. “That’syour best-case scenario? You got some serious shit to figure out.”

“I made him pack Dad’s cowboy hat,” Grace whispers in horror. “He promised to wear it. For good luck.”

A collective grunt erupts from the group. “Why the fuck would you make him wear a cowboy hat?” Chris asks.

“It looked more…American. That’s what we were going for.”

“Honey,” Cassandra says, “Texas isn’t known for their maple syrup and we sure don’t wear cowboy hats over here.” She’s looking at Grace like she’s a little soft in the head.

“It’s… the French… they don’t know the difference,” Grace explains. “Ms. Angela… Ms. Angela had a French guest at the bed-and-breakfast who asked to see ‘the Indians!’ So I figured—”

Chloe grunts, “Wow. That’s wild.”

“Right?” Grace says.

“And Colton went for that?” Chris asks in disbelief.

“It took some convincing on her part,” Ethan says.

Grace elbows him.

“Ouch, man, did you just throw your fiancée under the bus?” Justin laughs, but it’s nervous. They all need a little relief. They’re just not there yet.

“I think Col-ton will be okay because Kiara will de-fend him if anyone makes fun of him. She’s badass,” Skye declares.

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