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“That’s a good one,” Kamryn replied. “And I agree with you. What else?”

“Is this because I have the whisk still?” Elia very nearly handed it over to Kamryn, but she still wanted it.

“Of course. Whoever has it does the talking.” Kamryn bumped their shoulders together. “What else?”

“Having you here.” The words were out before Elia could stop them, but they were the truth. “I’ve enjoyed having another faculty—or admin—member here and coaching the team, but having you in particular has a been a ray of sunshine.”

“Oh.” Kamryn’s cheeks turned red, and the moment sobered slightly. “I didn’t expect that.”

“I like to be unexpected.” Elia flipped the whisk around and held it for Kamryn. “Your turn.”

Kamryn held her breath as she took the whisk in her free hand, holding it up to her lips like a microphone. “Is this thing on?”

Elia smiled. “Sure is.”

“Good. Because being part of the Speech team again has been the exact respite I’ve needed. Whether we win or not, I’m here for it for as long as I can be.” Kamryn settled the whisk onto herlap. “And I hope that’s longer than a semester, even if I’m not Head of School anymore.”

“Would you stay on in a different role?”

“If one opened up that I was qualified for, I’d certainly apply. But I’ve also been applying at this school for eight years now. This is the first time I managed to snag an interview, and I’m pretty sure the only reason I was considered is because it was an emergency.”

“They’re quite closed off about who gets in and who stays out. Very cliquey,” Elia replied, taking the whisk back. Their fingers brushed, and heat rushed from Kamryn’s hand into hers. She adored that feeling, and the sensations that ran through her body. She wasn’t ready to give that up just yet. “All of the prep schools are. At least I’ve found.”

“Have you worked at schools other than Windermere?”

Elia shook her head, the sadness over her circumstances sweeping back into her. “I worked in a public school before starting at Windermere. But I applied to other schools shortly after you graduated. None would have me.”

Kamryn frowned, a deep line forming in the center of her brow. “Why?”

“That’s a story for another night.”

“You keep saying that and avoiding.” Kamryn touched the whisk. “You have the whisk.”

Elia’s lips twitched, the rush of the moment moving through her and passing instantly. “The whisk is for happy things.”

“Ah.” Kamryn started to move her thumb back and forth alongside Elia’s. “I do hope that someday you’ll trust me enough to tell me what happened.”

Elia nearly grimaced. She stared out the dark window across from them and extricated her hand from Kamryn’s. The moment had gone from comfortable and flirtatious to exhausting andtraumatic. She didn’t want to remember those years. In fact, if she could forget them and move on, she’d love that.

“I don’t make promises that I can’t keep.”

“I didn’t ask for one,” Kamryn responded.

Elia’s hand was cold with Kamryn’s pressed into it. She’d been the one to break the happiness of the moment. That was the only rule about the whisk—sadness wasn’t allowed. Although they hadn’t told anyone those rules in twenty years. Elia flicked the whisk against her palm.

“Thank you for bringing me this.”

“Of course,” Kamryn smiled again, pulling those rays of sunshine back inside her and collecting them. She’d always been such a happy kid. She’d never faced trials like Elia had, at least not then. Who knew about the intervening twenty years? “I’ll see you in the morning, Elia.”

Her name was so sweet from those lips. Elia nodded and watched as Kamryn left the room in silence. She was cast back into the silence she’d started in, the silence she had craved before—but now, she didn’t want it. She wanted Kamryn back in the room with her, laughing and teasing and flirting.

What was happening to her?

She couldn’t like her former student, could she?

What if the lie they were setting up and the roles they were preparing to play weren’t all that phony?

What if there was more under the surface?