scenes like this.
I sigh and grab a muffin of my own from the baked goods case.
* * *
* * *
It turns out the muffins were a much bigger hit than I anticipated, because I only have three left by the time I sit down in the break room with Tracey. The “break room” is perhaps a generous name for what is really a tiny room with one table, no windows, a few chairs, and a microwave and fridge in the corner.
“Wow,” she says with her mouth full. “This is good. When are you gonna start your own bakery?”
I make a loud fart noise with my mouth, and a nurse pokes her head in the room.
“That wasn’t a real fart,” I say. “It was my mouth.”
She backs out of the room and Tracey laughs. “Uh, defensive much?”
I throw my hands in the air, exasperated. “These people deal with bodies all day! I don’t want her to think I’m being disrespectful!”
Tracey shakes her head. “Whatever. Anyway. Bakery. I’m envisioning the sign . . . Chloe’s Cookies.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Definitely sounds like a weird name for my vagina. No thanks.”
Tracey thinks about it. “I don’t know. Might be good for business.”
I ignore her and grab one of Hannah’s peanut butter paprika cookies.
“Those are so good, aren’t they?”
I nod, chewing. “Yeah. Wow. Think Hannah wants to share this recipe with me? I can for sure see these selling out at Nick’s.”
Tracey narrows her eyes.
I stop chewing. “What?”
She tilts her head to the side. “Say that again.”
“I . . . can see these selling out at Nick’s?”
She snaps a finger, nodding. “Yep. You guys made out.”
“What?” I spit cookie crumbs everywhere in my indignation. “How did you know that?”
She shrugs. “Honestly, it was a guess, but thank you for confirming.”
“Damn it,” I mutter.
Tracey grabs another muffin, leaving one for Hannah. “Okay. Start at the beginning.”
I tell Tracey most of the details, including the part about walking in on Nick when he was shirtless today.
“Huh,” she says.
“What does that mean?” I pick tiny pieces off the cookie and put them in my mouth.
“I’m thinking,” Tracey says. “So, like . . . what’s the holdup here? You like this dude, right?”
“I am physically attracted to him,” I say, focusing on the cookie.
“Riiiiiight,” Tracey says. “So what’s stopping you from . . . you know . . .” She pounds her fists together.
“What is that gesture?”
“Gettin’ it,” she says.
I shake my head. “This is how I know you’ve been married and out of the game too long. You’re making up hand gestures. That’s not a thing.”
“Pretty sure it’s a thing.”
“See, this is why I tell Annie this stuff, not you, because she’s all, ‘Oh, true love, feelings feelings feelings.’ She doesn’t give me inappropriate, inaccurate hand gestures.”
“You think I don’t care about true love?” Tracey asks, either mock-offended or real-offended. “In case you forgot, I’m actually in love. And honestly, I think you are, too.”
“With Nick?” I ask.
“See?” Tracey points at me, like she’s caught me doing something I’m not supposed to. “This is what I mean. It’s the way you say his name.”
I scoff. “How do I say his name?”
“Like this.” Tracey looks off into the distance, fanning her hair away from her face. “Niiiiiiiiiiick.”
“What is this? This thing you’re doing with your hair?”
Tracey stops and looks at me. “It’s the wind. Like, you’re standing on a cliff somewhere, thinking about your man out at sea, and the breeze is blowing your hair as you wait for him to come home.”
“Nick isn’t an old-timey sea captain.”
“Not literally.”
“I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
“Well,” Tracey says, suddenly looking more serious, “have I ever told you how I knew Hannah was the one?”
I shake my head. I remember when Tracey and Hannah got together, but Tracey didn’t give me a lot of details. They were immediately serious, with Tracey moving into Hannah’s place and the two of them talking about marriage within a month.
Tracey puffs up her cheeks and blows the air out. “Well. Okay. So I got super sick. Like, the stomach bug from hell, the kind of thing I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. No one deserves to double-dragon in front of the woman of their dreams.”
I raise my eyebrows. “I’m almost afraid to ask, but what is double-dragoning?”
“You know. Fluids spewing out of both ends. Double-dragon.” Tracey does some truly unfortunate gestures to drive her point across.
I purse my lips. “Is this story going somewhere? Because I’m attempting to eat a cookie over