Page 68 of Frosted Fakes

They walked in comfortable silence. Elliott found herself matching her pace to Julia's. When had that become automatic?

Maybe she could get used to this, she thought. The hand-holding. The quiet walks home. Having someone who actually wanted to be there.

Maybe she wasn't as bad at relationships as she'd always thought. Huh. That was a turn up for the books.

Chapter Twenty-One

Milly answered on the fourth ring, which was three rings more than usual and enough to send Elliott's heart rate spiking.

"Before you ask," Milly said, "I'm fine. Stop worrying."

"I wasn't worrying."

"You were absolutely worrying. I can hear it in your breathing." There was a rustling sound, like Milly was settling into a chair. "The doctors have released me with a clean bill of health. Well, clean-ish. Apparently my heart is 'performing adequately for a woman of my age,' which I think was meant to be reassuring but really just made me feel ancient."

Elliott leaned against the kitchen counter, phone pressed to her ear. Downstairs, she could hear the faint murmur of Julia chatting with customers, the occasional bright peal of her laugh. The bakery had been busy all morning. Actually, the bakery had been busy all week. Word had spread about their pastries, and they'd had to increase their supply orders twice.

"You scared me," Elliott said quietly.

"I know, love." Milly's voice softened. "But I'm not going anywhere just yet. Too stubborn to die, apparently. That's what the nurse said, though I think she meant it as a compliment."

"She probably did."

"How's the bakery? How's your Julia?"

Elliott's cheeks warmed. "She's not my Julia."

"Mmm. That's not what Shay tells me."

"Shay needs to learn the meaning of the word 'confidential.'"

Milly chuckled. "Shay's never met a secret she didn't want to share. It's part of her charm." A pause. "You should come and visit. I'd love to see you. Properly, I mean, not while I'm attached to various beeping machines."

Elliott's stomach tightened. She'd been avoiding this conversation. Seeing Milly in that hospital bed had been bad enough. Seeing her in a place that screamed 'end of the road' felt worse.

"Soon," she said. "I'll come soon."

"I'll hold you to that." Milly's tone said she knew exactly what Elliott was doing. "Now go. Make something beautiful. And stop brooding."

"I don't brood."

"You're brooding right now. I can hear brooding."

Elliott hung up and stared at the phone for a long moment. Then she shook herself and went back down to the bakery kitchen, where a batch of bread dough was waiting to be shaped.

She had to stop herself from stopping by the front of house just to see Julia. Her Julia. She hadn’t minded the phrase as much as she would have a month ago. She grinned to herself. Julia. Infuriating, beautiful, confused Julia. One day at a time. One day at a time was nice, good, perfect even. As long as she didn’t think any further ahead than that.

The knife was right where she'd left it. The problem was, she wasn't paying attention.

One second she was reaching for the dough scraper, the next she was hissing through her teeth as pain lanced across her palm. She looked down. Blood was welling from a deep cut, red against her flour-dusted skin, dripping onto the counter.

"Bugger."

She grabbed a tea towel and pressed it against the wound, but the blood was already soaking through. More than a plaster was going to fix, probably. Definitely more than she could deal with one-handed.

"Elliott?" Julia appeared in the doorway, took one look at the blood-soaked towel, and transformed. "Sit down."

"I'm fine, it's just…"