Page 26

Pete grinned. "No, I just mean, my sister went through menopause early, and that nighttime waking was one thing she always complained about."

"How is Lillian?" Danica asked with a smile.

A trip planned by Pete when she was in college led to Danica and Lillian, her foster sister, becoming close. Peas in a pod, those two. It made Pete grin to remember how they’d spent the entire week ganging up against her and bonding over Settlers of Catan.

"She's good," Pete said, clearing her throat.

"Good."

"Yeah."

An awkward silence stretched between them where Danica set down and picked up her cross-stitch project three or four times. Pete wanted desperately to talk to her about the moment in the hallway, when her sky-high confidence after multiple drinks had collided with her intense, unyielding desire to kiss Danica.

"Why are you awake?" Danica finally asked.

"Couldn't sleep," Pete lied. She turned toward the kitchen. "I was just getting up to make a snack."

Danica waved her hand in the air. "Don't let me stop you."

Talk about hot and cold. Feeling dismissed, Pete turned toward the kitchen and flipped on the under-cabinet light. She could feel Danica's gaze upon her as she grabbed the ice cream container out of the freezer. Chocolate chip cookie dough, her favorite. Danica's too, if she remembered right.

"I forgot we had that," Danica said.

"Want some?" Pete asked, holding up the carton in question.

Danica twisted her mouth, considering. "The sugar might keep me up more."

"Okay, Grandma Wendell," Pete joked, setting down the carton and carefully taking a bowl from the cupboard to avoid clattering the dishes together. She glanced back toward Danica, and in the light, she could see that Danica's eyes were still on her as she scooped out several spoonfuls of ice cream into a bowl. "Mind if I sit on the couch?" Pete asked, while putting the container away and grabbing a spoon.

"Um, sure," Danica said, moving a blanket from her lap and scooting over on the couch.

"What are you making?" Pete asked, nodding toward the cross stitch in her hands. Danica had always been crafty. She had hemmed all of their jeans back in college, and made very impressive Tour de Fat costumes for the niche beer and bike parade held in their college town every Labor Day weekend.

"Oh, it's this cute tradition on my unit. We all cross stitch a square for a baby blanket when one of our nurses is pregnant," Danica said, looking down at her design. Pete could make out a giraffe and some words.

"That's very wholesome," Pete said, taking a bite of her ice cream.

"Yeah, the night nurses are all super into cross stitch, so I just started last year. I'm not very good at it yet, though," Danicasaid. "It's one of those hobbies that really makes you question if you can count properly."

Pete grinned. "And were you prepared for that answer to be no?"

"I was not," Danica said with a sigh.

"You hate not being good at things right away," Pete commented.

Danica narrowed her eyes, but then shrugged. "Yeah, maybe." She eyed Pete's bowl of ice cream, then looked back at her giraffe. "I mean, wholikesbeing bad at things?"

Pete considered as she took a bite of ice cream. "I don't mind it. I bet even Taylor Swift was bad at the guitar at first."

"No, I'm pretty sure she popped out of the womb singing the world's catchiest songs and looking like a goddess," Danica quipped.

"You're smart. You'll master it soon, I'm sure," Pete said. Danica was the smartest, most capable person she knew.

Danica brows pinched together as she dipped her head and softly said, "Thanks."

Had she just embarrassed Danica with the compliment? She let her ice cream bowl rest on her lap for a moment, taking a deep breath. "Listen, about earlier... I'm?—"

Danica's eyes widened like she was immediately worried about what Pete was about to say. All the more reason for Pete to apologize, she supposed.