Heat creeps into my cheeks instantly. Catherine notices first, her brows lifting slightly over the rim of her wine glass.Oh god.
“Relax,” I mutter, moving towards the fridge. “Nothing happened.”
Lucy snorts. “That sounds exactly like something someone says after something happened.”
I grab a bottle of water just to give myself something to do.
“What did he want?” Lucy asks casually, though there’s nothing casual about the sharpness in her eyes.
“Nothing.”
“Wynter.”
I sigh heavily, twisting the bottle cap. “Can you not do the scary interrogation thing for five minutes?”
“No.”
Catherine laughs quietly into her drink.
Lucy leans back against the counter, her arms folded. “You disappeared into his office looking like you were marching to your execution. You came back looking . . .” Her eyes narrow further. “Confused.”
That is painfully accurate. I take a long drink of water to avoid answering.
“Sweetheart,” Lucy says more gently this time, “what did he say?”
I glance between them both before exhaling slowly.
“We called a truce.”
Lucy’s expression immediately turns suspicious.
“A truce,” she repeats flatly.
“For the baby,” I add quickly. “We agreed we should try to get along.”
“That sounds dangerously mature,” Catherine murmurs approvingly.
Lucy still looks unconvinced. “And?”
“And,” I shrug awkwardly, “I’d appreciate it if you stopped trying to verbally assault him every time he enters a room.”
Lucy gasps dramatically. “I beg your pardon?”
I fight a smile. “You called him emotionally traumatising over lunch.”
“He is emotionally traumatising.”
“Lucy.”
She studies me carefully for a long moment. Then slowly, her brows lift.
“Oh my god,” she breathes. “Youlikehim again.”
My entire body heats instantly. “I never said that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Catherine outright laughs now.