Billie.
The kitchen smells like lemon and honey—comfort in scent form. I'm stirring the porridge, watching it thicken, while Riana slices the lemon like we're two old ladies preparing a potion.
"I still can't get over how fun the party was," I say, grinning. "Thank you for the books, by the way. You really know how to romance a girl."
Riana smirks. "Cora Reilly is the way to a broken-hearted woman's soul."
"She's not wrong."
I list the gifts I got—designer bags from Don Nero, a diamond crucifix from Father Maxwell which was hella expensive, sundresses from grandma, hair clips and ribbons from mom, a baseball jersey from dad .. and then, of course, The Apple.
"Lexus gave me a half-bitten apple in a purple box."
Riana nearly drops the honey jar from laughing. "Was it poisoned? Should we test it on a mouse first?"
"I just don't get him sometimes," I sigh. "It's like he lives in his own weird movie."
