Sweet Forty-Two

Not even more of the muffins, though that was a sweet benefit. I wanted more Georgia. She didn’t have a shred of innocence left in her eyes, and that made me trust her. I wasn’t worried about harming her glittery view on the world, because it was clear she didn’t have one. And hadn’t for a long time.

Despite the whimsical appearance of her bakery, I sensed there was something dark underneath it ... even if I hadn’t been freaked out by the Cheshire cat eyes painted in stark green, above an equally jarring white smile, on the black crown molding in the cafe area. The desire to kiss her never really left me after the failed attempt weeks ago, even though I’d already apologized.

I didn’t mean the apology. Because I’d wanted to kiss her in that moment. I shouldn’t have taken the apartment, really, since I wanted to kiss her. That’s a standard bad idea. But I just trusted her. And, she seemed to have exactly zero interest in me beyond friends. Really, I was fine with that. She had some heavy secrets that weighed down her smile, and even if she didn’t want to tell me what they were, I had to be there for her. I’d promised CJ, if nothing else.

We finished our final cut of the song, and I played a couple more notes, lost in my swirling, exhausted thoughts.

Bo placed his hand on my shoulder, but all I heard was garbled noise.

I took my headphones off. “What?”

“I said, give it a rest, bud. We’re done. Freed!” Though he looked exhausted, he managed a smile and a fist pump into the air.

“I’m sleeping from the minute we get home until the day after tomorrow.” Ember yawned and lazily slung her backpack over her shoulder. “Let’s go, Bo.”

I cut off her attempt at hugging him. “Actually, can I take you home? I have some stuff I want to talk to you about.”

Bo backed up in mock defense. “What? You can’t talk to me?”

“This is...”

“Girl stuff?” he teased.

Ember smacked his stomach. “Shut up, ass.”

Bo laughed and Ember did too, so things seemed okay there, I guess. Though navigating the complex knots of Bo and Ember’s relationship wasn’t something I had the time or training for.

After locking up the studio, Ember and I headed to my car. A few minutes into our drive, she yawned and looked at me. “I’ve missed seeing you every day.”

“You mean you miss keeping an eye on me. Spying on my emotions,” I teased.

“Regan, I couldn’t spy on your emotions if you drew me a map.” She knocked softly on my head. “Closed book.”

I shrugged. “I’m not that closed off, I’m just not ... Bo.”

She chuckled and leaned her head back on the headrest. I’d intended to tell her about the card from Rae but was getting gun-shy.

“So ... Willow...” I didn’t have enough emotional attachment to the San Diego socialite to care that I was throwing her under the bus in my cowardliness.

“Argh! What about her?” Ember growled.

“Last week she told me about ... you know.”

Ember snapped her head back around, looking deadly at the side of my face. “No, I don’t know. What’d she say?”

“She said you were all pissy at her because she put the moves on Bo.”

“Is that all she said?”

Dear God, what did I just get myself into?

“Isn’t that ... all there is?”

Ember chuckled, but it wasn’t the friendly kind. It was the kind that made you expect to see a crow on her shoulder, the way her eyebrow didn’t arch, but pitched to a severe point. “I guess that’s all there is.”

“Okay...” I didn’t believe her.

She continued, “Unless you count her telling me she thinks we’re half sisters.”

I swerved into the next lane, grateful that weekend traffic this early in the morning was nearly non-existent. “What?”

“Can you fucking believe her? Seriously! Always something to get attention.”

“Did she ... are you ... do your parents—” Given my history with the emotions of Ember, she seemed to be handling this well. Maniacally, maybe, but well.

She reached her hand over and patted my leg. “Calm down. She’s full of shit. No, I haven’t said anything to my parents. Willow blurted it out one night when we were drinking when we first got here. She said we had to have the same dad.”

“Had to?”

“She went on about how our families were always together growing up. Even when I pointed out that they were all fucking hippies who lived in co-ops together and shit our whole lives, she had to point out the vague similarities in our looks.” Ember ran her hand through her hair and left it there, as if mentally comparing it to Willow’s.

Vague was not the correct term to discuss the similarities between Ember and Willow’s looks. Sure, Willow had darker skin, since her mom was black, but they had the same long wavy hair. Willow’s was only slightly less auburn than Embers, but their eyes were identical. Not just the color—a striking jade that often had me staring at both of them for too long—but the same shape and same size. Slightly too big for their face by some standards, but breathtaking by anyone who could see clearly. It wasn’t a far stretch to believe they were related, but I wasn’t about to tell Ember that.

“What?” she cut into my thoughts. “You believe her?”