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“Sorry I’m late,” she said, looking around for a spare seat. There were three options, including one on my right and that was the one she chose. Her legs were so long that she stretched them out in front of her. If I sat all the way back on my chair, my feet didn’t touch the ground. Calling Ryan “imposing” was an understatement. How the hell had we both fit in that tiny bathroom?

The thought of being with her in the bathroom at the pottery shop made my face go red.

Ryan hadn’t acknowledged me, just kept her focus on Joy as she started over and people spoke about how they’d liked the book, and what their biggest takeaways had been.

With Ryan next to me, I absolutely couldn’t focus on what anyone was saying. She sucked away all of my attention. Tonight she wore athletic pants that did nothing to hide her rock-hard thighs. I’d seen a video once of a woman crushing a watermelon between her thighs and that was all I could think of as Joy asked discussion questions and people responded. There was no way I could form any coherent thought with Ryan beside me. Not a chance.

Then she spoke, talking about some obscure book she’d read that reminded her of a scene in this book and I had a good reason to look at her and that just made everything worse.

Everything about her was interesting, from her fiery blue eyes to the way she gestured as she talked, to the words she said. Ryan may not have gone to Yale, but I would bet all the money in my bank account she went to another fancy college, or at the very least was accomplished enough to get into one.

I’d just gone to a small state school to get my degree in communications that I hadn’t really ended up using when I’d ventured into the crowded job market. Retail and sales jobs were all I could find, so I dove in, and had bounced around ever since. Now I was full-time at Bluebird Pottery and while I didn’t see it as a forever job, it was perfect for now. Sydney gave me a lot of freedom, and I loved packing boxes out back and chatting with Eileen as she worked. She had all kinds of interesting stories, and we got along really well. From what Sydney had alluded to, her mom didn’t get along with a lot of people. Eileen got lost in her own head a lot, and sometimes you’d be in the middle of a conversation and she’d just float away, completely forgetting about you. As someone neurodivergent, I sympathized, and I didn’t take any of it personally. Brains were strange and unique, and Eileen did things in her own way, in her own time.

Ryan finished speaking and I had to remind myself to breathe. She readjusted her legs and I had to look away so everyone didn’t read the lewd thoughts on my face that I was having about those legs.

For the first time, I was almost relieved when the discussion part of book club was over and it was time to eat and talk and drink before going home.

Since I had the option of having the dips anytime I wanted, I left them for other people and hit the desserts, including the cake, which had a picture of the book cover on it and beautiful swirls of frosting around the edges. It was from Sweet’s Sweets Bakery, located in the neighboring town of Castleton, and I’d never had cake that good in my life. Each one was not only a work of art, but a spiritual experience to eat.

I loaded up my plate with the intention of having some now, but taking most of it home, including an extra piece of cake for Mom and Mama to share, as they requested.

I was just grabbing another macaron when I felt someone standing behind me and saw a shadow fall across the table. Such a massive shadow could only belong to one person. I took a breath for strength before I turned around to face her.

“Hi,” I said. “Um, it’s nice to meet you. Again.”

“Nice to meet you…” she trailed off, waiting for me to say my name.

“Everly,” I said, looking up at her. “I’m Everly.”

“Everly,” she said, her voice wrapping around my name like a warm blanket on a cold night. “It’s nice to officially meet you.”

She put her hand out, her wrist gleaming with an expensive watch.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” I managed to say as she shook my hand. Her fingers were incredibly warm and soft and for the few seconds she touched me, everything in my head just went completely quiet.

She reached around me to grab a plate and I smelled a clean, almost woodsy green scent that made me think of moss.It was delicious.

“How’s the cake at these things?” she asked.

“It’s heaven,” I said.

“In that case,” she said, cutting a large piece and setting it on her plate.

“Fan of cake?” I asked.

“You could say that,” she said, grabbing a fork.

“What kind of cake is your favorite?” I asked.

She thought about that for a moment. “My grandmother used to make something called hummingbird cake that I loved. It has pineapple and bananas and pecans with cream cheese frosting,” she said.

“Ohhh, that sounds good. I’ve never heard of it,” I said.

“It’s a southern thing,” she said. “My grandmother was born in South Carolina, so I think she got it from her family.”

“I’d love to try it,” I said, and she took a bite of the cake. This one was just a classic marble cake with vanilla and chocolate with a whipped cream frosting. Simple and delicious.

Ryan closed her eyes and I swear she let out the tiniest little noise that hit me so hard that I almost fell over.