Cyn refused to give Emma her coffee, holding it in front of her with the temptation of a damned bottle of wine. Which Emma didn’t feel like she needed, but she wouldn’t have been opposed to it if Cyn had spiked her coffee with whiskey.

And not because things were shitty. She had woken up so refreshed she didn’t even know who she was. Lack of sleep notwithstanding.

Which was the exact reason Cyn was being a pain.

“You’re really going to hold my coffee hostage? Come on, Cyn.”

“Yes, I am, until you dish on what has such a spring in your step this morning.”

Emma groaned and leaned over the bake table. “Use your imagination. I bet you can figure it out.” She really, really didn’t want to go into details. She hadn’t even processed them yet.

“Nope. Not good enough.”

“Enjoy the coffee, then. We have work to do.”

Cyn shrugged and took a drink out of Emma’s cup.

That…bitch.

“Who was it?”

Emma wasn’t telling her anything. Especially while she was drinking Emma’s damned coffee. “Nobody.”

“Break-up sex with Jordan?”

“No.”

“A bar fly.”

“Seriously, Cyn? Gross.”

“Oh! Cookie boy.”

The similarity to quill boy had a smirk on her lips before she could stop it.

“You’re joking!”

“I didn’t say anything.”

Cyn started pulling pans and bowls from under the counter. “You didn’t have to.”

Emma rolled her eyes and disappeared into the supply closet. What day was it? Her brain hadn’t caught up to work yet, despite her claim to Cyn. She rapped her fingers on the shelf and then started pulling sacks of flour and sugar down. When she emerged, Cyn set Emma’s coffee on the table, noticeably less full than it should have been. Emma dropped the supplies and swiped up the cup before Cyn could take it away again.

“Cookie boy. Really. I mean, he isn’t bad to look at or anything. He definitely is no Jordan, but… really, Em?”

“Cyn, you were trying to get me to sleep with him a few days ago.”

“I wasn’t actually serious.”

She totally had been.

“So, what was it? One-night stand? Is he your boyfriend now?”

“Cyn, would you please drop it?”

“Give me a break. I live vicariously through your exploits.”

“What exploits?”

“Do we need to count the amount of times you and Jordan have screwed around in the kitchen?”

They didn’t, because she and Jordan had never actually screwed around in the kitchen. Emma wondered if she should try and explain that to Cyn. It could be done, mostly, without getting into the clan issues. Cyn was probably one of those people that thought arranged marriages were romantic or something. Okay, not probably. If someone showed up on her doorstep and told her she was suddenly engaged to marry a prince or something, she wouldn’t think twice about it.

“I know you aren’t going to believe me when I tell you this.”

“Oh, let me guess first. Twenty-seven.”

“Zero.”

“Bullshit.”

“Will you shut up for two seconds, so I can explain myself? Damn, Cyn.”

Cyn sealed her lips with her fingers and threw away the key. Then reached for the scale, bag of flour, and metal mixing bowl.

“Jordan and I haven’t slept together in over a year. Everything you saw here was a ruse.”

Cyn’s lips parted to say something and then she sucked in a breath, chewing on her bottom lip and the inside of her cheek in tandem.

“My mother arranged a marriage between us and we decided a long time ago that it wasn’t for us. So, we kept our relationship status a secret for almost two years.”

“Hold on.” Cyn couldn’t contain herself any longer. “An arranged marriage. You’re joking.”

“I wish I was.”

Cyn sputtered and then waved an indignant hand at Emma. She dipped a cup into the bag of flour and dumped it into the bowl. Looked up at Emma and shook her head before leaning down too close to the numbers on the scale.

Emma laughed out loud. “What?”

Cyn sucked in her lip and then licked them before returning to her chewing. Then she dropped the measuring cup onto the counter and pushed aside the scale. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me about this?”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, you are now one of two people who know the truth about what’s going on.”

“Emma, you can literally tell me anything, you know. I’m offended you didn’t fill me in the second you decided you guys weren’t together. What the shit happened?”

Maybe she shouldn’t have told Cyn what was going on. “It doesn’t matter. It’s just been done a long time. I don’t know. I guess I wanted you to know that Mason isn’t a rebound.” Well, that came out of nowhere. Emma didn’t know why it mattered, but she knew, quite abruptly, that it was true. He wasn’t a rebound. What they had shared didn’t feel like rebounding. But that was what everyone was going to see it as if they went public.

Maybe yesterday had been a fluke.

No. She refused to deny what had happened. Just thinking about Mason and his promise to stop by after he was done at the school made her insides flutter. When her alarm went off that morning and she rolled over, tempted to call Cyn and tell her she wasn’t going to make it in, she discovered that the pillows she had laid out between them were gone. One of her breasts was uncovered, all out in the open. And Mason was asleep, one hand resting on her leg over the covers.

Emma smiled at the thought. He hadn’t even stirred when she crawled out of bed.

“Cyn,” Emma said, leveling her gaze on her friend. “Promise me you won’t make things weird when Mason comes in later. Or I swear I will never tell you anything again.”

“No promises.”

“Cyn, I mean it.” Emma gulped down the remaining coffee.

Cyn huffed and then nodded, her shoulders falling. “Fine.”

“Good. Now, will you go get me some more coffee so we can get some work done?”

---

Aside from the occasional sidelong and contemplative looks from Cyn, the day moved along smoothly. Emma felt like time was ticking a little bit slower than normal, and as the lunch rush wound down, she leaned against the front counter sipping a tall glass of ice water. Cyn had stepped out to go grab them sandwiches from down the street, and Emma relished the few moments of peace.

The door jingled, and she looked up, expecting Cyn but finding Jordan instead. Shit.

“Hey stranger,” he said, walking up to the counter.

“Hey.” Shit. Shit. Shit. Emma hadn’t talked to Jordan in days, despite his text messages. What was she supposed to even say to him?

“I thought I’d stop by and make sure everything was okay since you haven’t been returning my messages.” He leaned onto the counter.

Emma straightened, taking a step back. “Yeah, everything is fine. Sorry. I have been super busy.”

“With what?”

Did she really have to answer that? To Jordan?

“Just… stuff. Besides, my phone’s busted.” She really needed to get that fixed.

“Emma, come on. What’ve you been up to? I’ve been worried about you.”

“Why is everyone worried? Now that Cheryl is out of the way, we should have nothing to worry about at all.”

“Well, it might have something to do with the fact that you’re alpha and you haven’t even called a meeting to address the changeover. Like, we have a new alpha, and no one’s seen her since day one.”

Had it already been that long? Saturday, Sunday, Monday… Shit. It really had. “I’ve been busy,” she said again, focusing her attention on the cup of water she was gripping like a lifeline.

“Well, people are asking me, like I’m somehow supposed to know. Which is funny, because normally I would, and they don’t seem to give a shit about the fact that you and I are no longer a thing.”

“I’m sorry, Jordan.”

“Don’t apologize. Just tell me what’s going on.”

Why the hell should she? “Do I have to?”

“Well, I would rather not force it out of you.”

“Like you could.” Emma groaned and motioned Jordan around the counter. Anger coursed through her, but she had to remember that this was her best friend. She could tell him everything. “You’re going to give me so much shit.”

“I will whether you tell me or not. Spill.” Jordan followed Emma into the kitchen.

“You realize I had to go through this with Cyn once today already?”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better. Since I am supposed to be your bestie.”

Then, why were things freaking awkward between them now? “Fine. I’ve been spending time with Mason Covey.”

“Who?”

“The new teacher at Svelte.”

Jordan closed his eyes and drew in a long slow breath. “You’re going to tell me you disappeared off the face of the planet for a guy?”

Yeah. Like this. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like. You’re alpha, Emma. The clan is a wreck and you’re out courting some import?”

“Okay, that was low, even for you.” Emma slammed the bowl she’d been examining down on the counter. “For your information, I am not courting him. I’m fucking him. Not that it’s any of your business. You sound like Cheryl.”

“I don’t give a shit who you fuck. I just thought that maybe you’d keep me in the loop and actually act like a damn alpha.”

Emma flinched like she’d been slapped. “You aren’t my keeper,” she murmured. The front door chimed, and she hoped to God it was Cyn. She and Jordan didn’t fight, and she had no idea where the hell this had come from.

“Emma?”

It was Cyn. Emma forced a steadying breath. “In the kitchen.” She turned to Jordan. “Look, I don’t know where this came from, but I’m sorry for whatever I did. Okay? Now, you should go.”

Jordan looked at her for a second, and Emma thought she saw a flash of regret before he turned and left, nearly hitting Cyn with the door as he hit it open.

Emma turned away immediately, counting each breath to push back the burning in her eyes.

Emma Elliot didn’t cry. In anger. Sadness. Happiness. She just didn’t do it.

Yet, as she stood there, assaulted by her best friend, she felt like a dam had been loosed.

Mal inched forward, hesitant. She let him, wrapping herself in his presence.

“Everything okay, Emma?” Cyn set their lunch on the bake table.

Emma clenched her eyes shut and ground her teeth. Then, she reached for her hostess smile and turned around. “Yeah.” No. “Everything’s good. What’s for lunch?”