“You said I could have ten minutes,” she grumbled and shuffled to the bathroom so she could at least comb her hair and brush her teeth.

Twelve

“What is it you want to tell me?” Tia asked as she came through the front door.

Seth motioned toward the table. She was wearing yoga pants, a long sleeve athletic top and tennis shoes, and had braved the short walk from the guesthouse without a jacket. She’d mentioned something about getting fat, but he didn’t think she was overweight. “We’ll talk about it after you eat.”

Kiki started to squawk excitedly, so Tia stopped at the aviary to tap on the glass and say hello. “How are you, Kiki? You’re such a beauty.”

“Pretty girl, pretty girl,” Kiki said.

“Yes. You are a pretty girl,” Tia confirmed.

As Tia came into the kitchen, she eyed the egg burrito on her plate with some detachment, but once Seth encouraged her to dig in while he finished making his own, she didn’t even pause to talk.

“Apparently, you were hungrier than you thought,” he said wryly.

She glanced over at him. “Don’t read anything into this. I do not want to encourage you to wake me up every morning.”

He stuffed his tortilla with eggs, sausage and cheese and added plenty of salsa. “Judging from what I’ve seen so far, someone needs to.” He grinned to let her know he was teasing and put his own plate down before holding up the pitcher of orange juice he’d squeezed earlier. “Juice?”

She lifted her glass. “Goading comments aside, this is pretty good,” she said grudgingly. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

He laughed at the suspicion in her expression, but he figured he couldn’t blame her for being skeptical of kindness. He was skeptical of it, too. “Because you can’t let what happened to your face destroy your life. You have until Christmas. Then you need to get back to living again. I figure you can start by taking a few baby steps—like coming out to eat and exercise.”

She eyed him speculatively. “You’re almost a hermit, and you’re giving me advice about getting out?”

Assuming it was Maxi who’d told her he wasn’t particularly social, he filled his own glass before putting down the pitcher. “I get myself up, I eat, I exercise, and I work. I’d say that puts me a mile or two ahead of you.”

“You just started exercising,” she pointed out. “You already told me that.”

“At least I’ve done it,” he grumbled. “Once.”

She laughed, and he couldn’t help laughing with her.

“Besides, a hermit doesn’t do gallery showings.” He’d often pointed to that when Aiyana began to press him to start dating or seeing his friends again.