Page 128 of Spies Don’t Fall for Their Best Friend

“Almost certainly.”

“I’m hungry.”

“That seems solvable.”

She doesn’t move, and neither do I.

Another minute passes. Then I kiss the top of her head. “Come on. Let’s reheat the pasta.”

She lets me pull her to her feet. In the kitchen, I switch off the oven and inspect the garlic bread.

“Casualty?” Reese asks.

“Severe, but survivable.”

I put a plate of pasta into the microwave while she hops up to sit on the island counter. After a moment, she picks at a piece of lint on her pants.

I cross the kitchen and stand between her knees. “You okay?”

She nods. Then, after a second, says, “More than I was.”

I kiss her forehead.

For five years, I thought Reese kept romance outside our friendship because she didn’t want me that way. Now I know she was afraid I might want her—and eventually wish I hadn’t. She thinks loving her comes with a cost.

I know exactly what it cost me not to.

CHAPTER 22

AN EXTREMELY TINY ADVERSARY

REESE

About thirty people mill about on the grass in Evelyn’s backyard for Jace and Mackenzie’s baby shower as I stand next to Charlie at the refreshments table, admiring our handiwork. Especially the deviled egg baby carriages we made—I’m ridiculously proud of those. I adjust one of the tiny carrot and pickle slices pressed into the sides of the toothpicks that form the axles for the little buggy. “I think they turned out adorable.”

Charlie tips her head a bit, looking at them. “I don’t know. Some of their faces are a little creepy.”

I gasp in mock horror. “Charlie! You never say a baby is ugly!”

But she’s not wrong. We used sliced Vienna sausages for the babies’ faces, and we made the eyes by dipping the tip of a toothpick into balsamic glaze and touching it to the sausages. And let’s just say that we weren’t so good at making the eyes exactly… symmetrical.

“Oh, I would never say it to their faces,” Charlie says, then tips her head in the other direction. “Mostly because I’m not sure which direction their eyes are looking.”

“They just want to be able to see all the rest of this,” I say, gesturing to the table.

Our Bun-in-the-Oven Sliders are arranged on two tiered trays. Baby carrots and other vegetables surround bowls of dip. A huge fruit platter fills the center, and beside it are teddy-bear maple shortbread cookies, miniature Bundt cakes, little cream-filled pastry bundles, and a glass dispenser of sparkling lemonade with a sign that says Baby Bubbles.

“I think we did well,” I say.

Charlie nods. “I agree.”

“We should open a catering company.”

“No. I’ve worked missions that went more smoothly than us trying to make three dozen teddy bear cookies.”

We both laugh as we turn around to the shower. My eyes immediately go to Miles. He’s talking to Jace and Mackenzie, who is sitting beneath the shade of one of the big trees with a hand resting on her stomach, and people from both sides of their family spread across the lawn.

All of the Lancasters are here, including the grandparents. Hammy and my mom are talking with Evelyn near the patio. And then there are the MacNeils—Mackenzie’s parents, her sisters and their husbands, two little boys who have teamed up with Heidi to make a fortress out of giant foam baby blocks, and eighteen-month-old Adelaide, who is currently toddling across the grass with a cookie clutched in one fist.