Page 157 of The Seven Rings
Despite the morning rain, everything looked brighter. To Sonya’s ear, the whole world sang.
Coffee tasted even more wonderful. Her toasted bagel? Fit for the gods.
She recognized herself as a walking cliché, and didn’t care.
She managed to work, even when she caught herself singing along to Clover’s morning playlist.
She had to restrain herself from getting up and dancing to Queen’s “Crazy Little Thing Called Love.”
She restrained herself again when Cleo, with a vague morning wave, walked downstairs.
Ten minutes, she ordered herself. Give her ten minutes to get down, make coffee, drink enough to wake up.
She managed seven.
Cleo sat at the island, sleepily scrolling on the kitchen tablet, with coffee, her half a Toaster Strudel, her cup of granola-laced yogurt.
She gave Sonya a look with lazy lion’s eyes.
“Trey must’ve been on his game last night. You have the look of a woman who’s been very well laid.”
“There was that.” She glanced at Cleo’s breakfast mug. “Drink some more coffee.”
“I intend to.”
“No, I mean now. Wake up!”
“You know the reason we’ve always been good roommates—nowhousemates, Son? Because you know I don’t like conversation before at least one full cup of coffee in the morning.”
“Make an exception.”
Cleo drank a little more. “This better be good.”
“It’s so good. The best. It’s better than the best.” She did a quick twirl. “Trey loves me.”
Cleo sipped a little more coffee and gave her friend a long, lazy stare.
“Oh, such news.” she said, flat-voiced, flat-eyed. “Bring out the band, cue the acrobats. Why, I’d never have known. Except for the way he looks at you, touches you, stands up and by you. I feel I might swoon from the surprise.”
“Drink more coffee! He told me he loved me. He told me he’s in love with me, and has been, and wants to get married and have babies.”
“Whoa! Wait!” Cleo shot up one hand, downed more coffee with the other. “He asked you to marry him?”
“No. He said he couldn’t, and he wouldn’t because… Are you awake?”
“I am now. And I want details. Every tiny detail.”
“Okay.” Sonya dropped down on the stool beside her. “After you and Owen went up, I could tell he was upset, and pissed off about something.”
She told her, every tiny detail.
When Sonya teared up, so did Cleo.
“It’s like one of our girls’-night movies, only better. Son, he’s such a good man. Such a really good man. The things he said to you—beyond all the sweet, sweet things? They make solid sense.”
“You mean I can’t marry him until.”
“A fabulous dress and a piece of paper? They count, sure they do. But they’re not worth the risk. I know both of you are traditional—”
