Page 68 of My Sweetest Agony
Please.
But she won’t.
The old woman has always seen too much.
Even when I was a little girl, running around here while Nonni and Mom operated the shop, Trina was always poking her nose where it didn’t belong, interjecting her opinions and offering advice no one asked for. And she’s had her eyes on me all day. Observing everything. Gearing up for this exact moment.
I knew the inquisition was coming; I just had hoped to have avoided it like I have been Marlo for the last several days.
Scheduling myself when I knew she’d be off.
Ensuring I’m busy with orders or customers whenever she tries to hunt me down.
That girl knows something’s up as well as Trina does.
Marlo eyes me now from across the shop and motions to Trina to keep going, giving her a look that assures me they’re colluding.
They’re in on it together.
I should have known.
My shitty lying skills, combined with the way my mind has been seriously preoccupied the last couple of days, mean I know I haven’t been myself. And they’ve both been watching me like a hawk since I came back to work. Always checking to ensure I’m doing okay.
They wouldn’t have missed my wandering mind.
And boy has it been wandering…
To the way Cam kissed me.
To the feel of his touch.
To the taste of him on my tongue.
To the ecstasy and agony that combined that night to combust into something beautiful and oh so wrong.
But I am not about to have that conversation with my mother’s best friend—or mine, for that matter.
Not yet.
Not when I still don’t know how I feel about it. Not when my lunch with Nancy only brought more questions that I can’t seem to wrap my head around, even days later. Not when I don’t even know how I feel about the situation.
Instead of spilling all my dirty secrets, I force a smile. “Really, Trina, I’m fine.”
“Mmhmm.” She purses her lips, crossing her arms over her chest, giving me almost the exact same look Mom used to when I was trying to hide something from her. “Then how come you’re staring wistfully at all the men who come in here buying flowers and keep watching the door like you expect Prince Charming to walk through it and sweep you off your feet?”
I gape at her. “I am not doing that.”
She raises her white eyebrows behind her thick, black-rimmed glasses. “You are. This have anything to do with your almost-brother-in-law showing up?”
My back stiffens, and I do my best not to have a knee-jerk reaction and lash out at her. Because that would be a dead giveaway that something happened and that my current behavior is tied completely to the man in question. “What? No.” I shake my head a little too vehemently. “Did Marlo tell you that?”
Her lips curl up into a knowing grin. “She didn’t have to, sweetheart. You just did.”
Dammit.
I walked right into that one.
Why can’t I be a better liar?
