We Were Beautiful by Heather Hepler

Author:Heather Hepler
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blink
Published: 2019-02-12T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

I barely have my apron on before Fig starts peppering me with questions. “You had ice cream?” Fig asks.

I swear, if she keeps wagging her eyebrows like that, she’s going to make her forehead cramp up.

“Was it awesome?” she asks. We walk over to the counter, where Nonna has a pile of cinnamon roll dough waiting.

“It was okay,” I say, looking intently into the mixing bowl, which is filled with brown sugar and cinnamon.

Fig turns and looks at me. “Mia Hopkins,” she says. “Did you or did you not have ice cream with Cooper?”

“Did,” I say.

“Are you or are you not smitten with Cooper?”

I squint at her. “Smitten?”

Fig waves her hand at me. “Crushing. Besotted. Infatuated.”

“What was the question?” I ask. I use a fork to break up the clumps of brown sugar for the cinnamon roll filling.

Fig rolls her eyes at me. “Is there pining?”

“Pining?”

“You know, do you think about him? Do you try to figure out ways to see him again?” She leans toward me and lowers her voice. “Are you falling for him?”

“It’s complicated,” I say. And that is the truth. It’s been a really long time since I’ve trusted anyone.

Fig flips her fingers in the air again as if waving away my words. “It’s not that complicated, Mia. You’re smitten with him.”

I start to protest, but she just holds her hand up. “He’s smitten with you.”

“What?” She grins at me and her eyebrows start wagging again. “Did he tell you that?” I ask.

“No,” she says. I look back down at the bowl in front of me. “But I can tell.”

“How?” I ask.

She shrugs. “You remember how I told you Cooper was hard to get to know? Closed?” I nod, still looking in the bowl. “He’s less so now.”

“Less?” I ask.

“Since he met you,” she says. “Definitely less.” I use my fork to trace patterns in the sugar. Circle. Star. Heart. “Trust me,” Fig says. It seems like a lot of people want me to trust them.

Nonna pushes into the kitchen and glares at Joey, who is cleaning the meat slicer.

“That better shine when you’re finished!” she yells. He bobs his head and keeps working. “Who put this here?” she asks, kicking at a bucket filled with hand towels.

“Don’t make eye contact,” Fig whispers.

I keep stirring the sugar. “What’s wrong?” I whisper.

Fig shrugs. “I’m not sure, but clearly—” Nonna steps over and looks over my shoulder, silencing Fig.

I can actually feel her standing there. She reaches past me and starts smashing the butter into the sugar and cinnamon to make the filling. I step back to avoid the flying ingredients and elbows.

“So, Nonna—” Fig begins.

Nonna shoots her a look, which silences her. Nonna keeps working the sugar, then moves on to the dough, rolling and flouring and punching until the whole counter is covered with a huge sheet of dough.

“Butter,” she says. Fig jumps at the word, then hands her a block of butter, which Nonna drops onto the dough. “Have you talked to your mother?” At first, I’m not sure whether she means me or Fig, but then she looks at Fig.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.