Amy set the strawberry down and faced Crissy again. “It’s terrifying but…at the same time, I’ve got Manu with me. We can figure it out together. And you. God, I can conquer anything with you, cupcake.”
Crissy was quiet a moment until a thought popped into her head and the words slipped out, soft and awe-filled. “Does that mean I get to be a godmother?”
Amy blew out a puff of air in disbelief. “Now, hold up there, nothing is set in stone. I warned Manu, Mom had three miscarriages before me. There were all sorts of complications during her pregnancy with me and I was one tiny little baby. So…you know. No guarantees.”
Crissy nodded. “Right. Shouldn’t get too far ahead of ourselves.”
Amy picked up the strawberry again and a mischievous smile teased at her lips. She raised an eyebrow and peeked at Crissy.
“Besides,” she said, “you would totally not be the godmother of my child.”
“But…”
“You’d be an aunt. Aunt Sweetie.”
Crissy grinned until her cheeks hurt and she pressed her hands to her face to ease the ache. “With lots of babysitting privileges?”
“Only if you feed him. Or her. Manu wants a baby girl so bad, you wouldn’t believe it.” Amy stopped, held up her hands and shook her head. “No, no, no, stop, we’re not supposed to get ahead of ourselves.”
“Yes, right, sorry,” Crissy said, doing absolutely nothing to hide her smile.
“Go beat up on bread, stop smiling.”
“Yes ma’am.”
As she hurried off to the kitchen, Amy called to her.
“Hey, Cris.”
Crissy paused in the doorway and turned. “Yeah?”
“Everything okay with you? Really?”
Crissy sighed and ran her thumb over the faded wood grain of the doorway. “Yeah, I just…have to work out a little misunderstanding. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
“Quinn?”
She nodded, her thumbnail digging into the wood.
“And you don’t want to tell me because of the baby thing, right?”
Crissy hitched up one shoulder and dragged her gaze up to look at Amy. “You’re happy. You deserve to stay that way for as long as it lasts.”
“Cris, that is terrible, horrible, awful reasoning.” Amy took a step towards her, arm outstretched, and Crissy took Amy’s hand in a fierce grip.
“Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t,” she replied. “Either way, I want to figure this one out on my own. For now, at least. Depending on how things go, I might be crying on your shoulder before the weekend is over so….” She gestured to the cake still sitting on the counter in its box. “Spoil yourself on sugar and argue with Manu over baby names some more.”
Amy looked like she was about to argue but her expression softened and she squeezed Crissy’s hand until Crissy’s fingers tingled with numbness.
“When you get it cleared up,” Amy said, “let’s go out for milkshakes and French fries. Just us girls.”
Crissy cast her a grateful smile. When. Amy was so sure things would work out for the better. She hadn’t said if you get it cleared up, she had said when. Even if Crissy doubted, Amy kept up hope for the both of them.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Crissy stood in front of the fire station for…she checked her watch again. The second hour in a row now. Clutched in her hands was a brown paper bag filled with apple, cherry, and blueberry turnovers. She told herself it was a peace offering but…it kind of felt more like a bribe. And a safety net for her own peace of mind, which she mentally chastised herself. Deep down, she knew she had really brought the food for purely selfish reasons. But this wasn’t going to be easy and the familiar smells of sugar and spices felt like she was bringing the comfort of her kitchen with her and it took the edge off of her nerves the tiniest, tiniest bit.
Well…not really.
Just get it over with already, she scolded herself.
“Hey Crissy!”
Crissy flinched and turned towards the voice. I’m not ready, I’m not ready, I’m not ready.
But it was Pete, not Quinn, who jogged up to her, a smile spreading from ear to ear, his cheeks a fierce red from the cold. He slid to a stop and eyed the bag in her hands.
“Hate to tell you this,” he said, “but if that’s for the guys, I’m totally intercepting it and not sharing.”
Crissy managed a small smile despite her nerves. “It’s for Quinn.”
Pete nodded and shoved his hands in his back pockets. “Well now, I know for a fact the old grump hates sharing and he’ll kick my ass if I take his food. But uhm…” He paused and cast a sideways look at Crissy. “I wouldn’t mind delivering it for you, if you’d like. I mean, you’re probably pretty busy and all…”
“Nice try.”
He shrugged. “Worth a shot. So…” He made a big show of looking around then glanced at the station. “Is Quinn leaving you out in the cold for a reason or…?”
“I…haven’t let him know I’m here yet,” she said. “I was going to surprise him.”
“Oh, I’ll go get him for you,” Pete said.
“That’s really not…”
But Pete was already across the road and into the station. Crissy sagged.
“…necessary.”
She bounced on her toes and glanced over her shoulder. There was still time to make a run for it, she could change her mind, think about this a little more….
The station door opened and Quinn stepped out in a blue polo shirt and cargo pants but no jacket, his arms folded across his chest and his shoulders hunched against the cold.
“Crissy?” he said as he came to a stop several feet away from her, practically a canyon of space apart that made Crissy ache to see it, to feel the cold rush of air that swirled between them. “What are you doing here? I wasn’t expecting you.”
“I know, I just…wanted to talk to you. About the other day. I think there’s been a…misunderstanding. Are you…are you busy?”
Quinn’s gaze flickered for a moment, uncertain and guarded. “I’m on lunch break actually, only got a few more minutes left. Look, like I said, take all the time you need. It’s no big deal.”
Crissy stepped towards him but Quinn seemed to retreat from her. He didn’t exactly step back, he didn’t even move, but he squared his shoulders and straightened his spine, drawing himself up to his full height. Crissy felt small, so, so very small as she looked up at him. She didn’t come any closer and she swallowed a sigh of frustration. Out of habit, she fell back on the only thing she knew well. She shoved the bag of food into the gaping hole between them.
“I brought you a little something,” she said. “A few of your favorites.”
At first, Quinn didn’t take it, didn’t even look like he was going to take it. He kept his hands tucked under his arms and he just looked at the bag, suspended from her fingers, waiting. Then, finally, he accepted it, the paper crackling like lightning in the overly quiet moment. He didn’t open it or show the slightest interest in the contents. Instead, he hooked his thumb in his pocket and let the bag dangle from two fingers, as if he didn’t want to have anything to do with it, could barely stand holding it at all.
Crissy ached to take it back, to clutch it in front of her again like a shield. She felt bare, vulnerable, exposed without the warmth of the pastries seeping through her gloves and the smells wrapping around her like a blanket. Give them back, she wanted to say. I want them if you don’t.
Quinn shifted from one foot to the other and looked down the road. Crissy wanted to scream into the suffocating silence. Say something, say something, say something! But she wasn’t sure who she would be screaming at – herself or Quinn. When at last Quinn spoke, he kept his gaze trained down the road and away from her.
“Is everything about food with you?” he said.
All the breath rushed out of Crissy as if she’d been kicked in the stomach. She bit her lip as she stepped back and her gaze dropped to the trodden, muddy snow at her feet. The wo
rds sounded so…bitter, so sour, like Quinn could hardly hold them in his mouth any longer than absolutely necessary before he got rid of them. As if…as if the words disgusted him. As if she disgusted him.
Suddenly, Quinn seemed to realize the impact of what he’d just said and his head snapped back towards her.
“Wait,” he said, extending a hand out to her. “I didn’t mean…”
Crissy half turned away from him, couldn’t look at him, wouldn’t look at him. “Yes you did,” she said. “You meant every word. Otherwise you wouldn’t have said it.”
She started walking the seemingly interminable two blocks back to the coffee shop, back to the safety and comfort and warmth of her kitchen, her wonderful, perfect, amazing kitchen that she would probably never leave again for any man, no matter how much Amy might plead with her about it. Quinn hurried to catch up with her, his footsteps crunching in the snow.
“Crissy, please stop,” he said. “I only meant…it came out wrong.”
She stopped so suddenly, Quinn almost ran into her. When she looked up at him, she couldn’t hide the tears on her face and she hated herself for it. Quinn started to reach for her, his eyes filled with concern and horror at his mistake. But Crissy tilted her body away from him, refusing his touch.
“Please leave me alone,” she whispered.
Crissy turned around again and continued on her route back to the coffee shop. This time, Quinn didn’t try to follow which only made Crissy cry even harder.
She pushed into the coffee shop, blindly stripping off her gloves, her sodden boots, her scarf, her coat, as she climbed the stairs to her apartment. She crawled under her covers, fished her bulging, worn scrapbook of recipes from beneath her bed and held it close as she curled up and cried, Quinn’s words echoing in her head over and over.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Dimly, Crissy became aware of early morning light spilling into her apartment window and falling across her face. Her scrapbook was still tucked tightly into her arms. The sheets had become twisted and tucked around her in the night. She groaned and pressed her face into the pillows again. One day left. One day and then she’d be back to work. And she had every intention of spending it in bed berating herself for taking a flying leap of faith on the wrong man. Again.
Slowly, Crissy opened her eyes. And more ration thoughts began to seep into her mind, despite her best attempts at ignoring them. Amy would be by to check on her pretty soon. The minute she stepped in the door and noticed the trail of rejected winter clothing all the way up to Crissy’s apartment, she would know something was wrong, very, very wrong.
Crissy forced herself into a sitting position, her eyes screwed shut against the bright morning light. She placed a hand lightly against her aching head then pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes. She took in a shaky breath to compose herself and swung her feet to the floor. She was tired of crying over men breaking her heart. Amy had picked up Crissy and put her back together before, but Crissy was determined Amy wasn’t going to do that again.
Crissy shoved off the bed and started picking up the discarded clothing she had abandoned the previous day. With every step she took, with every article of clothing she picked up, she heard him.
Step.
Hat.
Is everything about food with you?
Step.
Coat.
Is everything…?
Crissy snapped up straight so fast that black spots danced across her vision. “Screw you,” she said aloud.
In a fury now, she gathered the last of her clothing but as she stormed towards the kitchen, a small package at the door caught her attention and made her pause. She hadn’t picked up the mail yesterday, too lost in her own mess to care about anything else.
Crissy opened the door and snatched up the box as cold air snaked down her t-shirt. She didn’t know what she expected, or what she hoped for, or whether her hopes and expectations were really one and the same. Did she want it to be an apology from Quinn? Or did she want nothing to do with him?
But one glance at the address label made her groan because neither her expectations nor her hopes made any difference.
Lisa Atwood.
“Not Mom,” she sighed. “Not today.”
She knew exactly what would be in that box too. Her mother’s new diet for the wedding. The diet her mother insisted she go on as well.
Crissy fled to the sanctuary of her kitchen and dumped her winter clothes and the box on the counter. She ripped open the refrigerator door and started pulling out butter, eggs, milk, cream, and shoved them onto the counter.
Crissy was enveloped in a cloud of flour, furiously whisking when Amy’s sing-song voice chirped from the shop.
“Morning, cupcake!” she called. Her footsteps came closer, rounded the counter, and entered the kitchen. “I brought milkshakes and french fries and I thought…” Her footsteps stopped dead and her bag dropped to the floor with a whump.
“What did he do?” she demanded.
Crissy hugged her bowl a little tighter and whisked a little faster and she didn’t look up, didn’t trust herself to look up. She had finally stopped crying and she was not about to burst into tears again. The second she looked up, her resolve would vanish and god help her, she was going to hold onto it this time.
Amy set a paper bag on the counter with a crinkle of paper and rested her chin on Crissy’s shoulder.
“Talk to me, sugar,” she whispered. “Please.”
For a moment, Crissy managed to cling to her fragile, wavering resolve. Then her face crumpled. Amy took the bowl out of her hands, set it on the counter, and wrapped her arms around Crissy. She cradled the back of Crissy’s head in her hand and rubbed Crissy’s back as Crissy cried into Amy’s shoulder. Amy didn’t let go until Crissy had quieted down to soft, breathy hiccups. She pulled away and placed her hands on either side of Crissy’s tear-stained face.
“What happened?” she asked, slowly, her gaze steady.
Crissy swallowed. “We got a little…I told him I wanted to take things slow. And he just…left. Like I’d offended him or something. But when I tried to talk to him about it, he…”
She broke off and bit her lip, her eyes squeezed shut. Amy’s jaw went tight and she straightened, tucking Crissy under her arm again as she pressed a kiss to Crissy’s forehead.
“I’m gonna kill him,” she said.
She started pulling open drawers, digging through spatulas and spoons, until she came up with the thickest, stoutest rolling pin Crissy owned, and she smacked it against her palm as she headed for the door. Crissy’s eyes widened and she caught Amy’s arm.
“Amy, no, what are you…?” Crissy hesitated. Did she really want to know what Amy was planning to do with that rolling pin?
Maybe…maybe not.
“You can’t,” she said instead.
“Sugar, I love you dearly, but I’ve made up my mind. I didn’t do anything to Rob because you asked me to and I should have. I had plans too you know. Really good ones. Painful ones. But I’m not sitting this one out. He made you cry. He’s a dead man.”
Amy pushed past her out of the kitchen. Crissy tried to hold on to her arm but her grip slipped and Amy kept plowing forward. Crissy hurried after her out of the shop and onto the snowy sidewalk. She bristled in the cold, curling in on herself, but she still tried to get ahead of Amy, to block her path.
As Amy turned the corner, a pair of arms caught her around the middle and picked her up until her feet were kicking uselessly in the air. Manu held on tight despite Amy trying to squirm away from him. Amy had a good three or four inches of height over him but Manu was wide, built like a tank, and he had a vise-like grip. Despite Amy wriggling against his hold, Manu wrestled her back into the warmth of the shop.
“Manu, let me go,” Amy growled.
“I don’t think so, babe,” he replied. “I’ve seen that look on your face before. Someone’s earned himself a little slice of hell.”
Crissy plucked the rolli
ng pin out of Amy’s hand and stepped back as Amy struggled more.
“He deserves it!” Amy said.
“I’m sure he does,” Manu said.
Finally, Amy sagged with a grunt of defeat. “Let me go,” she repeated, sullen this time.
Manu kissed the back of her neck and adjusted his hold on her as he set her down. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and interlaced his fingers with hers. She pouted only a little but didn’t pull away, leaning into his chest.
“Where did you come from?” Crissy asked. “I thought you’d be with your band.”
“Amy told me to wait in the car. She thought you might need to be taken out for the day for a little distraction. Then I saw Amy on the war path. What exactly is going on anyway?”
Before Crissy could explain, Amy jumped in.
“Quinn was an ass and made Crissy cry.”
Manu’s arms fell away from Amy as he glanced at Crissy with concern. “That true?”
She hesitated and slid into a nearby booth, setting the rolling pin on the table. Manu took Amy’s hand and the two of them slid into the booth across from her, first Amy then Manu. When Crissy didn’t say anything for several long seconds, Manu broke the silence.
“I can leave…if you’re more comfortable talking to Amy.”
Crissy glanced up with a small smile and shook her head. “I don’t mind.” Her gaze shifted between them, how at ease they looked side by side, hands clasped together as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
“How did you know?” she asked.
Amy blinked. “Know what?”
Crissy gestured between them. “How did you know to take a chance on each other? Weren’t you…scared? That it might not work out?”
Manu chuckled quietly and placed his free hand on Amy’s arm. He turned to look at her, a soft smile teasing at his lips.
“To be honest, I was terrified. Amy is a force to be reckoned with and I was so shy, I barely spoke three words together in a day.”
Amy beamed at Manu, a wide smile that made her eyes sparkle. Seeing that smile made Crissy’s chest ache, to see her best friend so happy, and wonder if it was ever possible that she could find such happiness for herself.
Sugar And Spice (Holidays: Valentine) Page 7
