Page 75 of One for the Road
The tension doesn’t leave the air, but we both grin a little at the memory that brings up.
“Of course. Just don’t try to lock me in the fridge again. I know your tricks now.”
She sashays past me into the kitchen and leads the way to the walk-in. We sort through the towering shelves of cartons and crates to find what we need. The door cuts off the sounds of the kitchen, the only noise in the room besides the ones we’re making coming from the humming of the bare light bulb overhead.
“What were you thinking about that day?” she asks me in the midst of our debate about how many lemons we’ll need.
“What day?”
“The one where you thought I locked you in here.”
“Right.” I feel my face getting hot. “Well, to be honest, I was, uh, trying really hard not to look at your boobs.”
She bursts out laughing. “Mon dieu!No way!”
“It’s true,” I insist. “You were wearing a shirt just like that, and when you crossed your arms, it was...it was a very distracting situation.”
“What, like this?” She leans against one of the shelves and crosses her arms over her chest, giving her boobs a little extra lift with her forearms.
I lift my eyes to the ceiling. “Yes. Like that.”
“Good thing you can look at them now.”
I drop my gaze back to her cleavage. “You really do have amazing tits.”
Before I can stop myself, I’m standing with my hips pressed to hers, hands grabbing her waist as she drops her arms and looks up at me. I recognize the desire in her eyes, paired with a flash of apprehension about getting caught in the fridge together, but there’s more there. A dozen emotions I can’t read flit across her features as we stand locked in place.
“DeeDee.” I speak slowly enough to let her know I really mean it this time. “Are you okay?”
“I just...I want to be normal, okay? I hate feeling like this.” Tears start gathering at the corners of her eyes even as her face creases with anger. “I just...I get so close, and then...Like the other day, when Monroe said you might be changing jobs, I—”
“DeeDee.” I lift my hands to cup her cheeks with my palms, forcing her to look at me. “DeeDee, you know I’m not leaving.”
“Iknow. I know it’s not a big deal. It’s really, really not, but as soon as I heard your name and ‘leaving’ in the samemauditsentence, I started freaking out like a crazy person. I’m not normal.”
“You are,” I urge. “There is nothing wrong with you. You’ve been through so much. You’ve lost a lot of people, and every day I’m amazed at how hard you fight, at what you’re still capable of after all that.”
The tears start falling now. Her lip trembles, and when she finally speaks again, it’s barely more than a whisper.
“So why can’t I do this?”
Six words. Six damn words said so quietly I had to lean in to hear them, and yet they have enough force to shake the very floor I’m standing on. My throat feels like it’s closing up, and I squeeze my hands into fists as cold dread shoots up my spine.
“Are you saying you—”
I don’t get a chance to finish. The door of the fridge gets thrown wide open, and one of the trainees freezes mid-step when he sees us.
“Oh, uh, sorry, I just—”
“Is that DeeDee and Zach?”
That’s when I notice the entire staff of the bar gathered behind him, about to kick the meeting off. I’m suddenly very aware of all the places DeeDee’s body is touching mine.
“It is! Finally!” someone calls out.
It only takes a couple seconds before everyone in the kitchen is cheering. I look back at DeeDee with panic rising in my chest. She tugs my hands away from her face and swipes at the tears running down her cheeks. On instinct, I shift so my body is blocking her from everyone’s view, protecting her from the eyes and voices and questions and shouts.
But we can’t stay here forever.
