“You’ve
got to admire a man who kisses a woman over cocoa,” Marie sipped her drink.
“Especially if she’s wearing a onesie.”
“I
can’t see it.” Eliza’s forehead pleated. “I thought it was black for winter,
white for summer. I’ve never seen you in anything with yellow on it, especially
not ducks. Don’t get me wrong though, I’ve nothing against ducky onesies.”
“It
wasn’t mine, you idiot.”
“If
you tell me it was his, you’ll totally ruin the moment. You know that, right?”
Marie said.
“It’s
his sister’s. All my stuff was in the washing machine, I borrowed it.” She
tucked her legs under her and refilled her glass. “It was just one of those
things, you know, the fire—I was upset…”
“So
it was a chaste comforting kiss, was it?” Eliza leaned forward.
Red
flags signaled nope on April’s face again. “Um…”
“Just
stop beating about the bush and out with it. Every single detail,” Marie
demanded. “You know you want to.”
The
feelings dammed up within needed an outlet. April breathed in deep, and
recounted the story of the kiss.
“And
then today he came home early and I caught him in the shower.”
The
sound emanating from Marie could only be described as a squeal.
“Behind
an opaque shower-curtain catch?”
“More
like behind a totally transparent shower screen catch.” Heat flared though her
entire body at the memory.
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