Page 29 of Hot Tea & Bird Calls (Kissing At Work #2)

E xposing one’s relationship status was a double-edged sword, notably to family. Fewer relatives assumed her free time for the taking than as a single woman.

Insipidly insulting. Intentionally or not, it painted her existence as inferior—an old maid who could drop anything, as it couldn’t be as essential as a romantic partner or a child.

Withstanding, she wouldn’t trade places with Donovan. Fiona and Isolde were outspoken and inventive, which bred an intelligent, energetic racket . They woke the house Monday and Tuesday with sing-alongs, jumping jacks, and demands for fruity cereal like human roosters.

Celene picked up a toy every other step, pitching them into a recycling bin repurposed for playtime. She wondered how they’d fit so much stuff in their backpacks. One of them featured the Disney Princesses, and Celene smiled despite herself.

Her nieces, regardless of their expensive toys, used Celene’s collected real estate agent cards as characters in their pretend city, where they’d arranged boxes from the cabinets into buildings.

Fiona conned little Isolde into getting all the male agents, and the younger sister finally caught on.

An argument and tantrum ensued. In the meantime, Donovan and Briana tiffed over something sports team-related.

The zen of the Vale house had been disrupted by the Vales. Again. Celene must’ve checked her watchless wrist thirty times.

She snatched the gray cardigan. Her mother confirmed it once belonged to her, so in the spirit of Edna Vale, she escaped on her own, peeling out of the driveway without saying bye.

Intercepting the chaos came her father, whose sentimentality conflicted with progress.

On a three-way call with realtor Mavis Dunbar, whose megawatt smile-y magnet card stayed high upon the fridge, out of children’s reach.

Byron encouraged Celene to take her time to ‘love on’ the house more.

To furnish it in a way he approved of before Mavis could do her fucking job and put it on the market.

Theo fussed in the background the whole time.

How could Celene live like this? Especially with surprise sibling guests? It’d historically been a home open for the whole family.

And who stressed Celene out? Family .

Now that the exterior and yard had been spruced up, Elise and Donovan not-so-mysteriously found interest. Celene couldn’t deal.

Twenty minutes later, jingling wind chimes, a Bob Marley track, and two life-size, crystal-studded iguanas greeted Celene’s arrival into Luce’s Mosaic Wonderland. She admired the thousands of hues encompassing them. Seemed nice, like their staff couldn’t be angry for long.

Celene bet this all paled to the colors taking center stage in Skye’s mind. In significant silences, Skye’s gaze floated off to another world, and Celene kind of longed to go, too.

Thalia widened thickly painted eyes when she recognized Celene, black matte lipstick tracing her somber smile. She’d opted for her dark hair today, in ringlets encircling her head. “Celene, in the flesh. My prayers have been answered.”

Celene liked this person, unwieldy bulk of jewelry and all. She fake-browsed a half-off basket of pins, feeling Thalia staring at her peanut butter pendant. “Is Skye in?”

“You’re not a stranger anymore.” Thalia nodded backward, an apron over her tapered black dress. “Head on to the office. Skye’s wrapping up stock management and—” she stage-whispered in a manner that evoked Elise, “please cheer her up. I sneaked citrine stones in there, but I think she needs you.”

Career and friend-wise, Celene had gained privileged access to some of Manhattan’s most exclusive spaces with moderate excitement.

Nevertheless, her pulse raced more as she maneuvered around the counter to the weird red room with candy wrapper wall art.

It didn’t help that she’d practically offered to make Skye come against one of those walls.

Celene pushed the ajar door, peeking inside.

Skye wasn’t working. Her laptop had gone dark as she stared out the squat, rectangular window, hands pressed between her knees, on the edge of the computer chair.

Celene satisfied her fix on Skye’s lips, the gentle angles of her face, and wayward expression until Skye double-blinked, realizing she had a visitor.

“Hi,” Celene whispered, a quiet trespasser. She clicked the door closed behind her, squinting around the room’s red. “Thalia tells me you’re down today.”

Skye unballed her hand, revealing three clear, light golden gemstones in her palm. “She’s like the Easter Bunny, leaving citrine around. I found one in my pocket.”

At the festival, Celene had plopped onto Skye’s lap with no forethought, and that had been a mistake. It’d given her a sample of her friend’s lean, unfathomable softness. And now, Celene wanted to curl back there. “Have you had lunch?”

“I haven’t.”

“June said you spend your lunches with the birds and squirrels.” She made sure to keep it casual, not to sound snide or patronizing. “Care to show me? Maybe we could have a picnic.”

No blanket. No snacks. No anything. Proposing a picnic.

Celene couldn’t stop herself. Not in the face of Skye’s sullen mood.

“Right now?” Skye woke up her laptop to see the time. “For how long?”

Every part of Celene strained to clutch Skye around her gorgeous face and kiss her. “As long as you want.”

“Okay.” Seconds ticked by, and as each elapsed, Skye’s smile grew. “That would be wonderful. We can order from the food court, and I’m sure we have a blanket around here.”

Skye removed her apron and packed her bag with renewed energy. Celene unlocked her phone as a distraction, to not muse on herself being the cause.

Granddad Walter died this day, two years ago.

Skye needed no reminders, but Luce’s glib comments and gruff micromanaging all morning would’ve tipped her off.

While she admired Luce ninety-five percent of the time, that last five percent packed a punch.

In grieving, she became a surly misanthrope.

It could last a few hours or extend to weeks.

No telling what direction it’d fall. Skye closed the door that foggy morning on her grandmother screaming for her to “give her some damn space.”

Sorrow talking, surely. Didn’t make her feel less like shit.

Under the pretense of spreadsheet work, Skye moped in the office. None of those number entries made sense in her state.

In her unique mode of mourning, Thalia floated in every hour and each visit; a citrine crystal materialized. On the desk, or in a potted plant, or tucked into Skye’s shirt. Skye had squeezed each one, willing them to do their thing. To make the pain go away.

“Warning. I’ve never had a picnic outside of a well-manicured park,” Celene groused, tipping her nice shoes around the woods’ sticks and overgrowth. “ This is where you find solace?”

Laughing, Skye surveyed the imperfect lay of trees, the rocks cragging from the fertile earth. It smelled ripe, untethered from her issues. “You’ll get used to it.”

“I doubt that.”

Probably right. She wouldn’t live in Yielding forever.

Skye pointed to a fallen tree. Immense, lacked decay or poison ivy, and with the right balance, they could eat comfortably. Celene wouldn’t fare well on the ground, where they’d encounter more bug friends.

They draped an old quilt onto the trunk and, upon it, unpacked boxes from a vegan spot on the first floor. Save snippets of conversation regarding the smoked tempeh’s flavor or birds picking around for crumbs, it’d gone wordlessly.

Skye was grateful for that. After reaching their fill, they packed everything up so they wouldn’t lure more creatures their way.

Sitting cross-legged, Celene ponied her hair with an elastic, flashing abs whenever she raised her arms. Skye feigned disinterest, but not well enough. Celene grinned fiendishly.

“Do you take all your girls here?” Celene teased, though something about it sounded serious.

Skye let her legs swing, shoes removed. “I don’t date right now.”

“So, only me?”

“Only you.”

Judging by the subtle, impish smile, Celene must’ve gotten off on that special treatment, and Skye didn’t mind at all. She was certainly special. Skye held her fingers out, watching the sun dapple her brown skin, bringing out golden undertones. “How’s your family?”

“Loud.”

Skye swayed in a laugh. “Are you coping well?”

“Not at all.” Celene traced the quilt squares with a fingertip, the stitching undone in worn places. “I’m leaving after this.”

So much for a good afternoon. Heat stirred behind Skye’s eyes. “Oh.”

“I told Nadine about the intrusion, and she invited me to hang out this weekend. Don and Briana will keep an eye on the deck stuff, but June’s team works well independently.

I’ll remind my brother to keep them hydrated.

” No matter how arched Celene’s eyebrows, her compassion shone through undeterred.

“One of my clients asked me to speak at a seminar, so I’m taking the gig, since I’ll be in the area. Sorry to spring this on you.”

Fuck. She’d endure the mourning home life without any doses of Celene. “You have adult temper tantrums to wrangle. I get it.”

“Don’t remind me.” Celene shuffled closer.

And closer. And Skye’s eyes rounded, closer. Celene only stopped once she positioned her legs over Skye’s thighs, feet planted firmly behind her.

As casually as anything, Celene took the water bottle Skye stuck onto the branches of a sapling and drew in a long sip. Fitting it back in place, she said, “Imagine we’re back on the hammock, the shade on our faces.”

How could Skye imagine anything with Celene Vale and her clean-cut features centered on her? And that expensive scent, that comforting warmth. The darkness in her eyes could swallow Skye, never let her out of their depths.

Skye responded, unthinking, “You’re so beautiful.”