Page 165 of Rising Heat
“What?”
“It’s even cuter in person.”
I laugh.
“You’ve seen pictures.”
“Pictures don’t do it justice...”
Her eyes travel around the room, taking everything in.
“The blue couch. The exposed brick…there are actual colors in here.”
“I know.”
She looks back at me.
“This is so you.”
“It is?”
“Darcy.” She gestures around the apartment. “There’s texture, there’s personality. Brett would’ve had a heart attack.”
The smile slips before I can stop it.
“He probably would’ve hated the couch.”
“He would’ve hated all of it.”
She smiles.
“Which is exactly how I know you picked it.”
She moves further into the kitchen, opening the fridge.
“You have actual food in here.”
“I’ve always had food.”
“No, you’ve always had Lactaid and an assortment of prepared foods that were deemed appropriate by your former housemate.”
“I resent how accurate that is.”
Bex keeps looking.
“…Is that parsley?”
“It’s cilantro.”
She gasps dramatically.
“Oh my God. She knows the difference.”
I roll my eyes.
“I go to the farmer’s market now.”
Her head snaps toward me.
