“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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