Maelis

“How are you better at this than me?” someone muttered behind me as I stacked the plates.

I didn’t need to look at her. I could hear the pout in her voice.

“Because,” I said, finally glancing back at her, “while I stayed in the kitchen with Evelyn, you were busy writing the next love letter to Oliver Harrington.”

Melanie gasped like I had stabbed her with a knife.

“You hurt me,” she said, clutching her chest dramatically. “Right here. In my heart.”

“Mm-hmm.”

She pointed a finger at me. Now walking close, to join me at the zinc, “But seriously, how can you still remember his full name...