Page 92 of The Two of Us

“Wow. What did he say?”

She turns, setting a plate of pancakes in front of me. “He said the only reason he kept making me eat that shit was because I kept pretending to like it. I gotta say, communication does wonders.”

I gasp sarcastically. “You don’t say.”

“You should try it sometime.”

“Damn. Gut me, why don’t you.”

“I’m just saying, you have a tendency to avoid conflict.” The doorbell rings and before I can protest around the food in my mouth, Tally jumps up. “I’ll get it!”

I glance around, frantically searching for an escape route but leaving the kitchen isn’t an option. I’d have to pass by the front door.

“Look who’s stopped by,” Tally says, walking back into the kitchen. Ambrose trails behind her.

He jerks his chin to the pancakes in front of me. “Morning.”

My mouth is full and my voice comes out as a garbled mess when I say, “Morning.”

Tally gives me a disappointed look of disgust before regarding Ambrose. “Who are you?”

Ambrose drags his eyes away from where I sit and his smile’s friendly as he leans in for a handshake as he says, “I’m Ambrose.”

Recognition fills Tally’s eyes and I want to drag her away before she says something that will make me want to sink farther into my chair. I widen my eyes at her and to my relief, she makes her face unreadable. “Ambrose. Hmm. I’ve never heard of you.” Her lie is so flawless, even I’m convinced.

Ambrose laughs. “And who are you?”

“I’m Mara’s best friend.”

My eyes swing to Ambrose, readying myself for the disappointment in his eyes but there’s nothing but a genuine smile on his face as he looks at me.

“Tally, can I have a minute with Mara?”

I shake my head quickly behind Ambrose’s back.

Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me.

“Sure! I was about to hop in the shower. I still smell like airplane.” She laughs. Tally wiggles her eyebrows at me as she backs out of the kitchen, abandoning me. Best friend, my ass.

Ambrose sits down and grasps the seat of my chair, pulling me closer to him. He takes the fork out of my hand and eats the chunk of pancake on it. “You left last night.”

I swallow. “Yes.” I don’t realize my knee is bobbing under the table until his cool hands bring it to a halt.

“Are we good?”

“Yes,” I repeat.

“Good.” Ambrose uses his thumb to wipe away the syrup on my lip and puts it in his mouth. “So, listen,” he says. “I’m going out of town this weekend. I want you to come with me.”

Despite my internal battle, curiosity gets the best of me. “Where?”

“My mom’s house. To visit Cat.”

I try to stop it. I really do. But everything in me shuts down in a matter of seconds. My posture becomes rigid and the ringing in my ear sounds like a teakettle on high heat. I shake my head. “No.”

He laughs in disbelief. “What do you mean, no?”

The iciness in my voice is unrecognizable. “The word pretty much speaks for itself.”

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