“Perfect.”
Ava pulled herself up, grabbed her pajamas, and headed toward the bathroom. For the first time all day, she didn’t feel beaten up, embarrassed, or wiped out. As she closed the door, she glanced at Regan and felt a surprising emotion.
Gratitude.
* * *
If somebody would’ve told Regan six months ago that she would eventually be sitting in her jammies on a bed next to Ava Prescott while they watchedWhisk Me Awaytogether, she’d have told that person they were off their rocker. She would have laughed and laughed and laughed.
And yet.
There she sat, on Ava’s bed, under the duvet ’cause the house felt a little drafty tonight. She was in her boxers—and might’ve dressed differently if she’d known that was where she’d be, because her thigh was pressed up against Ava’s. At least it wasn’t skin on skin. Ava had been smart enough to wear pajama pants, thank God.
“Snickerdoodles,” Ava said, yanking Regan out of her zoning.
“Huh?” She gave her head a subtle shake, trying to get back to the present.
Ava turned those dark eyes to her. She’d put on her glasses, and whether Regan loved her or hated her guts mattered not at all, because Ava was fucking stunning. No makeup, hair down, glasses on, and fucking stunning. There was no question. “They’re a stupidly simple cookie, but Liza seems to love them.” She returned her gaze to the laptop screen balanced between them on their thighs. “I wonder why.”
“’Cause they’re freaking awesome?”
Ava grinned. “Maybe that.”
God, she smelled good, too. Regan tried to be subtle with her inhales, but Ava smelled like summer, and as she sat there, she tried to put her finger on each distinct scent. Sunshine, suntan lotion, sand, salt, grass…none of it made sense. How does a person smell like sunshine, for fuck’s sake? But Ava did. Somehow, she did, and it was wonderful and warm and comforting.
“Oh!” Regan pointed at the screen. “Those lemon tarts. This is the third show where they were featured somehow.”
“Third?”
“I’ve seen them twice on older episodes, and now they’re on this one.”
“Good catch.” Ava was keeping a list on her Notes app, so she jotted down lemon tarts.
They watched quietly for a while, going from episode to episode and doing their best to mix up the seasons so they could see what things Liza repeated. Soon, they had a list of half a dozen items.
“I’m sorry,” Ava said, breaking their quiet.
Regan turned to her, but Ava stayed watching the screen. “You’re sorry? For what?”
There was a beat, and it seemed to Regan as if Ava was gathering something—courage, words, breath? She turned to Regan, and the eye contact was intense. “For causing you to get fired.”
Regan knew she looked surprised because she felt it, like a little zap of electricity had been shot through her. “You are?”
Ava nodded. “I was young and out to make a name for myself. And I didn’t yet understand that a kitchen is a team, that instead ofsimply excising a piece that isn’t fitting, we need to help shape it so that it does. I didn’t learn that until a couple years later, but you took the hit for my ignorance. I’m really sorry about that.”
Regan sat there blinking at her, stunned into silence.
Ava laughed softly. “I can see by your wide eyes that this wasn’t exactly something you thought I might say.”
“Not in a million years,” Regan said with a grin. “Wow.” She had to clear her throat of the unexpected lump that had lodged there. “Thank you. That—thank you.” There was more she could’ve said. She could’ve told Ava that it was fine because she found a much better place in Sweet Temptations, that it was someplace she did fit, and that her boss had helped to mentor her instead of getting angry, that he was retiring and she wanted so badly to buy the place but wasn’t sure if she could. But she didn’t. She stayed with the simple words of gratitude, along with a gentle smile.
“One more episode?” Ava asked, and her relief was almost tangible, like it hung in the air around them a bit before it floated away, leaving a clearly lighter Ava sitting on the bed. It made Regan happy for some reason.
She glanced at her watch. “I’m up for one more if you are.”
With one nod, Ava found another episode and hit play.
Regan had no idea when she’d actually dozed off, but when she opened her eyes, she had a moment of confusion. What time was it? Where was she? Who was sleeping on her? Slowly, it all came back to her, and when she glanced at Ava, she saw that she, too, had fallen asleep. They’d both apparently slumped down as time went on, and Ava’s head was pillowed on Regan’s shoulder, her breathing deep and even. The laptop still balanced on their thighs, and the episode playing was not the one they’d chosen. In fact, it was several episodes into the season, Regan knew because she’d watched the show dozens upon dozens of times. When she looked at her watch, she flinched in surprise.
