93. Alice

ALICE

Z elle, the beautiful singer, bites her lips and nods. “Yep, a giant ice cream sandwich.”

I grin at the idea and look over the ingredients on her workstation. “What flavors are you doing?”

“I really love the classic Neapolitan combination, so I’m sandwiching two vanilla sugar cookies with sprinkles”—she holds her hands out to demonstrate cookies the size of dinner plates—“around a strawberry ice cream, with finely diced fresh berries mixed in, along with dark chocolate shavings rather than the chips.” Zelle lifts a shoulder. “I just think the shaved bits melt in your mouth better.”

I press my lips together.

I press them together hard.

But it doesn’t stop the snort.

Zelle blinks at me, then her blue eyes widen. “Oh god. I meant the chocolate.”

I snort again and slap my hand over my mouth.

Michael shifts beside me, lifting his hand to the back of my neck. “It sounds lovely, Zelle. How thick do you expect it to be?”

I croak a laugh into my palm because, seriously?

“Pretty thick,” Zelle squeaks as her cheeks turn red.

I feel like I might choke on the laughter I’m trying to hold back.

“Well, good luck.” Joey cuts in, moving the show along like the professional he is.

Michael keeps his hand where it is, up under my hair, and I focus on the skin-on-skin contact as I catch my breath and prepare to face off with Amber the Asshole once again.

Joey gets to her bench first, greeting her with his usual happiness.

Amber replies, then turns to look at Michael, and only Michael, once again completely ignoring me.

“What are you doing?” Michael asks her flatly.

And I have to press my lips together again, only this time it’s because he sounds so mad, and I can’t help but find it arousing.

Amber blinks for a moment, like she was expecting him to be all friendly or something equally dumb, then her face morphs into a wide smile. “I’m making a chai ice cream.”

Chai. Ice cream.

A red warning light flashes inside my brain.

She wouldn’t…

“What else?” Michael’s tone hasn’t changed, and I realize he put it together long before we even got to the table.

And my new suspicion is confirmed when Amber replies. “A cinnamon filling.”

Red starts to haze around my vision as indignation fills my chest.

Joey clears his throat. “And how are you presenting these items to make them New Year’s themed?”

Still ignoring me, Amber turns to Joey. “Well, up here in Canada, New Year’s is still winter, so I thought I’d put it all together into a snowman. Really celebrate the season.”

“Okay…” Joey takes a step toward Michael, placing a hand on his upper arm like he’s getting ready to hold him back. “Good luck.”

Before Amber can say anything else, Joey starts to push Michael away from Amber’s workbench.

Michael steps into me, and it takes everything I have not to hold up my middle finger before I turn and walk away.