Natasha rang the doorbell in half the time. She hugged Serenity and breezed past her toward the kitchen. “Okay, spill it.”

“You know you ain’t right hanging up on people,” Serenity said, pulling out a small tray filled with cheese, grapes, and strawberries and a bowl of chicken salad from the refrigerator and placing them on the bar. She added baguette slices, poured a glass of tea for her friend, and topped her own glass off, then slid onto the stool next to Natasha.

“Hey, I knew you’d probably give me some excuse or say it was nothing, and I know better.” Natasha topped a piece of bread with the chicken salad and bit into it. She groaned. “You make the best chicken salad. I would’ve never thought to add the dried cranberries, but it gives it just a hint of sweet that’s so, so good.” Serenity reached for a slice of cheese, and Natasha waved her hand away. “Talk first, eat second. I want to be able to understand every word.”

Serenity rolled her eyes. “Whatever, girl.” She ate the cheese and bread, making a show of chewing slowly. Natasha eyed her, and Serenity laughed. “Okay, okay,” she said after swallowing and taking a sip of tea. “Dinner was amazing. He grilled steaks, made foil-packet herbed potatoes and a salad. That steak was the best I’ve ever eaten.”

“So not only can the man cook, but he grills, too?”

She nodded. “Gabriel bought Wagyu rib eyes.”

Natasha choked on her drink. “Wait a minute. Are you telling me that a man who you’re dating loosely—if that’s what you want to call it—cooked you one of the most expensive grades of steaks and expected nothing in return?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Serenity helped herself to the chicken salad. “And then we ate the peach cobbler and homemade ice cream I made while watching The Shawshank Redemption.” Natasha stared at her so long, Serenity shifted in her seat. “What?”

“You like Gabriel, do you?”

“Of course I do. I wouldn’t be hanging out with him if I didn’t.” And those feelings were becoming muddier by the day.

“Is he still planning to leave at the end of next month?”

“As far as I know.” She tried not to think about the reasons why his leaving for good bothered her. “Actually, he called earlier and said he had to go back to Atlanta this week. I assume it has to do with his job.”

“And you’re okay with that?” Natasha asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Why wouldn’t I be? We both agreed that whatever this thing is”—she waved a hand for emphasis—“it would end when he left. Nothing has changed.”

“Hmm. I wonder,” Natasha said, stuffing another piece of bread piled with chicken salad into her mouth.