Page 70 of Frosted Fakes

"Go," Elliott said, releasing Julia's shirt reluctantly. "Before someone calls the health inspector."

Julia pressed one more quick kiss to her lips, then fled to the front of the shop, her cheeks pink.

Elliott sat there for a moment, cradling her bandaged hand and grinning like an idiot.

Then she looked out the window and stopped grinning.

Candice Green was standing on the pavement opposite, arms crossed, staring at the bakery with an expression that suggested she was mentally cataloguing evidence. Her eyes met Elliott's through the glass.

Elliott, feeling particularly mature, poked her tongue out.

Candice's face went red. She turned on her heel and marched away.

Elliott went back to her bread dough, still smiling.

SHAY BURST THROUGH the flat door at half past six, carrying wine and wearing the expression of someone who'd just discovered gold. "You're glowing," she announced.

Elliott, who was arranging the last of the cookbook photos, didn't look up. "I don't glow."

"You're absolutely glowing. You look like someone who's had really excellent news. Or really excellent—"

"Don't finish that sentence."

"—pastry." Shay grinned and set the wine on the counter. "What did you think I was going to say?"

"Something inappropriate."

"Me? Never." Shay grabbed two glasses and poured without asking. "So. Spill."

"There's nothing to spill."

"Elliott Sinclair, I have known you for seven years. I have seen you through three disastrous relationships, one spectacularly ill-advised haircut, and the time you thought you had appendicitis but it turned out to be wind. I know when something's happened." She thrust a glass at Elliott. "Spill."

Elliott took the wine. Sipped. Considered her options.

"Julia and I…" She paused, searching for words that wouldn't send Shay into hysterics. "Things are good."

"Good how? Holding-hands good? Sharing-meaningful-looks good?"

"Just good." Elliott said. She could feel the blood rushing up to her face. She hadn’t meant to say this, but then, if she wasn’t going to say it to Shay, who could she say it to? Shay was right, she’d been there when nearly no one else had been. "It’s, um, really good, actually. I… like her. Properly."

Shay's eyes went wide. "Elliott."

"Don't make it a thing."

"It's already a thing! You said you like someone! Properly! That's huge!" Shay set down her glass and grabbed Elliott's arms. "This is amazing. This is wonderful. This is everything I've been hoping for since you two started doing your weird fake-dating dance."

"It wasn't weird."

"It was extremely weird. You're both terrible actors." Shay released her and took a long drink of wine. "So what's the plan? Are you official? Have you talked about it? Does she know how you feel?"

"We're… figuring it out." Elliott traced the rim of her glass. "One day at a time."

"That's very mature of you."

"I can be mature."

"You poked your tongue out at Candice Green this afternoon."