Page 30

“Puzzle.”

Then he finds the paint-by-number kit. He stops. A mountain landscape fills the front of the box, and along the bottom, tiny paint pots show through a strip of clear plastic.

“Paint.”

Janet smiles. “Yes.”

Kell lifts the box out and opens it carefully. His fingertip moves across the sealed row of colors.

“Colors.”

“A lot of them.”

Everything else in the tote instantly becomes less important. Blair sees it too. “Well. That one seems to have landed.”

Janet looks ridiculously pleased with herself. Kell studies the printed canvas next, then points to one of the tiny markings.

“What numbers mean?”

Janet leans closer and explains that each number corresponds to a paint color, and that you fill in the matching sections until the picture is complete. Kell looks at the canvas, then the paints, then back at the canvas. His brow tightens.

I’ve got the distinct feeling Janet has accidentally offended him on an artistic level he doesn’t yet have enough vocabulary to express. I leave him contemplating that and head for the kitchen. The others drift after me, still talking over one another. Within seconds Shannon has opened my fridge without asking.

“Where’s the salted caramel?”

“Second shelf.”

Rachel laughs. “Of course you have salted caramel.”

“I also have French vanilla, cinnamon roll, toasted marshmallow, and something called white chocolate raspberry that I bought in a moment of weakness.”

Blair leans over Shannon’s shoulder to inspect the collection.

“That is an alarming amount of creamer for one person.”

“Both of you out of my fridge before you start taking inventory.”

I pour coffee into mugs, take the salted caramel from Shannon, and add a generous splash to mine. The room behind me goes quiet. Not normal quiet. Focused quiet. I turn.

Kell is standing in the kitchen doorway with the paint-by-number box in one hand. His attention is fixed on my mug.

“What?” He points to my mug.

I look down at my coffee. “The creamer?” His gaze moves to the bottle in my hand, then back to the mug.

He points toward my mug. “Coffee?”

“Yes.”

His brow furrows. “Bad.”

“Black coffee was bad.”

He points at my mug again. “Not bad?”

“No.”

I take a sip, and Kell goes completely still. Shannon catches on first.