Page 40 of The Confidentiality Clause
She shrugs. “Force is such a strong word…”
I sigh. “Hand me a marshmallow.”
Her smile is bright in the warm glow of the fire. “Let me go grab the sticks to roast them.”
She heads inside. I sit down and pull out my phone to open my message thread with Sutton. I hadn’t responded to spite Ariel, but now I see how immature that was.
Sutton: Shaw and I are coming to Charlotte! Mandatory dinner at Mom and Dad’s. 6 PM on Wednesday.
Brock: Mandatory, huh? What happens if I don’t show up?
I smile when she responds right away.
Sutton: A riot will ensue. There will be pitchforks and hockey sticks turned into torches.
Brock: Can’t let you burn a perfectly good hockey stick. I guess I’ll be there.
Sutton: Good. We miss you.
I rub my chest to soothe the mysterious ache beneath my sternum.
Brock: Miss you too.
Ariel opens the back door. I put my phone away.
“Sorry, I couldn’t remember where I put them,” she says with a laugh. She hands me a metal stick with a rubber handle and a large marshmallow, then sits on the swing opposite the firepit. We roast our marshmallows in silence for a moment. Ariel catches her marshmallow on fire a few times, blowing it out after each one. I, on the other hand, roast mine like a sane person until it’s golden brown.
Once hers is black as coal, she smushes it between graham crackers and a thick piece of chocolate. She takes a messy bite and hums.
“There’s nothing like a s’more to make me forget how annoyed I was.”
I laugh and reach for a graham cracker and a chocolate piece.
“Did you forget if you are mentioning it now?” I ask, amused at how enthralled she is with her dessert. Bits of marshmallow are stuck to the corners of her mouth, and there’s a streak of chocolate on her cheek. It’s endearing.
“There you go, pushing my buttons again,” she says.
Her half-eaten s’more doesn’t conceal the smile on her lips. I wonder what it would feel like to kiss her right now, what it would taste like–I push that thought off the balcony.Nope. Nope, nope, nope. Not going there again.
“They’re easy to push,” I counter before taking a bite of my s’more. Gooey marshmallow mixes with rich chocolate and the cinnamon-y crunch of the graham cracker. I lean back in the cushioned chair and close my eyes.
Ariel giggles. “Enjoying yourself?”
I smile, my eyes still closed. I could make up some retort, but instead, I’m honest. “I am.”
“Good,” she says quietly over the crackling of the fire.
Eventually, I blink my eyes open again and enjoy the rest of my s’more as the sky turns the powdery indigo of twilight. Ariel grabs another marshmallow and starts to commit arson again.
“So, a legacy, huh?” she asks before blowing out yet another flame.
“You know, it’s difficult to talk to you when you’re on the verge of burning the cabin down.”
She sticks her tongue out at me, making me laugh. “Burnt marshmallows are superior. Now talk, Carolina, before I confiscate the supplies.”
I shake my head, but give in. “There’s not much to say.” I push another marshmallow onto the prongs. “I’m building a business, like I’ve said. But I want it to be here after I’m gone, for it to leave an impact.”
“Why?”
