Imperfectly Delicious (Imperfect Series #6) - Mary Frame Page 0,54

and we settle it over her then shut off the TV and silently move up the stairs.

The upper floor is quiet and dark except for a small lamp in the entry, lighting our way. We grab our coats from the coatrack in the entry but before we can escape, Fred’s mom appears from a side doorway.

“I put together some leftovers for you guys to take home with you.” She hands us a couple of disposable containers.

“That’s mighty kind, thank you.” Scarlett smiles and takes them both.

Helen glances between the two of us. “Thank you both so much for spending time with Fred. She needs the distraction. Jack was her first everything and she hurts even more than she lets on. She didn’t have a lot of friends growing up. Always had her head stuck in a book, living in a fantasy, and we might have encouraged her too much in that regard. Maybe we should have pushed her to be more social.”

“Fred is a delight,” Scarlett assures her.

Helen nods. “Yes, she is, but her outwardly gregarious personality is a bit of a show. She wants to make friends, but she’s always struggled with finding her place and what she wants in life.”

“I love Fred. I will always be here for her,” Scarlett says.

“She loves you too, and it doesn’t come to her easy. When she gives, she’s all in. Unfortunately, she gave it all and Jack didn’t know what a precious gift he had.”

“Clearly,” I mutter.

We finally say goodbye and exit the brownstone onto the dark and quiet street.

“I can take you home,” I tell Scarlett as we walk down the sidewalk toward my car.

“Thank you.”

The ride to her apartment in Washington Heights is silent, but comfortable. When I pull up outside her building, Scarlett turns to me.

“Did you want to come up?”

More than anything.

“I can’t. I have to get home to the girls.”

“Right. Sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry.”

She glances out the window and then back at me. “Thanks for the ride,” she says. And before I can lean over the console or say anything else, she disappears out the door.

A few days pass and I don’t see Scarlett at all. We text, but that’s it.

She’s busy cooking for events, because even though it’s almost Christmas, the holiday isn’t slowing down her catering business. Decadence is as busy as ever and renovations are nearly completed for Savor, so we’ve started taking reservations there as well—even through the holiday season.

Ava asks me where Scarlett is and if she’s coming over again, and I don’t know what to tell her.

“I like her,” Ava says.

“Me, too,” is the only response I have.

Two days pass like this, two days that feel like thirty. But finally, on Wednesday, Carson comes in from lunch with a familiar pink container.

I stand in the doorway and watch him place the box at the corner of his desk.

“Is that from Scarlett’s?”

“Yeah.” He and shrugs out of his coat and hangs it on the back of his chair, unconcerned.

“She’s there?”

He stops and lifts his brows at my tone. “Um. Yes.”

I glance in the direction of the front door, like I can sense her through the kitchen and walls and everything else between us.

Then I turn back into my office and pick up my phone. We haven’t talked since the night at Fred’s, only texted updates about what we were up to at random intervals. Mostly impersonal, but friendly. Like we’re friends. My jaw clenches. We can’t be friends. We’re rivals. Aren’t we? I still need to figure out what to do with our competing interests. But my mind shies away from any of that to focus on…why hasn’t she texted to tell me she’s here?

“Is she busy?” I call out to Carson.

“Yes. They’re always busy. Kind of like we are.”

I put my phone down and try and shake off the weird sensations coursing through me. It’s like an itch I can’t reach.

If she can work and not worry about me, I can do the same.

But it doesn’t last. A few more hours pass, dinner service is starting, everything flowing smoothly, and I’m ready to burst out of my skin. I call Clara and ask her to stay with the kids through dinner, just in case.

It’s like she’s become part of my habits and not seeing her makes me feel like I’m going to explode.

Carson leaves for the day and I can’t take it anymore.

I grab my jacket and head outside. The back door of her truck swings open before I can

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