Page 86 of A Step You Shouldn't Take

“Coffee would be lovely. My travel cup’s in the cupboard above the toaster. The pink one with silver stars.”

“I could have guessed.”

Having a roommate wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I’d considered renting out a room several times over the years, not because I needed the money, but rather to have some company. So why didn’t I? Because I always worried I’d grow to hate the person, and asking them to leave would lead to a level of awkwardness I preferred to avoid.

But Reed cooked. He didn’t snore. He left his boots in the hallway. And I’d discovered he was one of those naturally warm people who didn’t bother with a shirt if it was hot in the mornings. It wasn’t my fault I’d accidentally turned the thermostat up a few notches before I went to bed last night. My hand slipped.

“What time are you meeting Wyatt?”

“Three o’clock. He’s got the early shift today. I’m gonna head out to the embassy first.”

“Be careful.”

“That’s usually my line.”

“Will you call me and let me know what’s going on?”

“Yes, Mom.” He closed his eyes for a second. “Sorry. That was insensitive.”

Yes, it was, but I pasted on a smile. “It’s fine. I shouldn’t be so pushy. Annie’s told me that many times in the past.”

“I like you pushy. In case I forget to mention it later, I was impressed with your comeback on Wyatt yesterday.”

“Do you think he’ll tell anyone?”

“And risk his reputation at work? I don’t think so. Besides, I’ll do more than break his nose if he betrays your trust.”

“In caseIforget to mention it later, thank you. Thank you foryourtrust.”

He held out my travel cup. “Listen to us. The Reed and Kimberly mutual appreciation society. Get to work, sweetheart.”

It would have been so easy to take a step forward, stand on tiptoes, and kiss him. But I couldn’t. Not Reed. Not when we were in the middle of hunting a murderer and I was damaged goods. I settled for a wave instead.

“See you later.”

***

“I’m so, so sorry. I know we agreed you didn’t have to come to the fitting, and I feel really bad for calling you, but the dress just won’t do up. Likeat all. I’ve tried sucking my stomach in, but I’d have to lose six pounds in five days and I’m just not sure I can do that. I’ve been living on salad, anyway.”

Tara’s make-up had smudged where she’d been crying, and I took a deep breath and walked all the way into the fitting room. The dress designer shrugged when I glanced across at her.

“Can you stand up?”

Tara lurched to her feet, holding the half-done-up bridal gown around her chest. Sure enough, the zipper was stuck just below her waist, and with that gap, it wasn’t going any farther. Oh, Jiminy Cricket.

The dress had fitted perfectly a month ago, and I believed Tara when she said she’d been dieting. Every other photo on her Instagram was some kind of green stuff.

Just in case, I asked, “How much dressing have you been putting on the salad?”

“Almost none! Only vinaigrette and applesauce.”

“Applesauce? On salad?”

“I know that sounds really strange, but one day I got the urge to try it, and it tastes amazing.”

“Could you be bloated? Have gas?”

“I don’t think so. Apart from feeling a little queasy some mornings, I’ve been fine.”

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