Ezra’s warm hand covered mine. “First. Stop parroting Joe.”

I stifled a grimace at the mention of my brother’s name, bracing myself for the lecture. Ezra had lots of thoughts about my older brother. I’d heard them all, but that didn’t stop him from repeating them.

But he said nothing more about the fact that my brother disapproved of my business venture. ‘Disapproved’ was probably putting it kindly.

“Second … you do more for those girls than you realise. Being a kid stuck in here is bad enough, but they’re sick … and they’re being poked and prodded and filled with drugs that often make them sicker than the cancer does to begin with. You’re such an integral support for them. Plus, you’re like their Slay Queen.”

I rolled my suddenly burning eyes, reaching under my glasses to rub at a stray tear. “I don’t think that’s how you use that phrase. And they only think I slay because of the pink hair.”

Ezra chuckled. “I’m sure that helps, but it’s definitely not the only reason you’re a queen, Jemma.”

“Stop being so nice, you’re going to make my mascara run!” I let out a watery giggle, slapping him on the arm. He grinned, pushing the bundle of half-crocheted Ariel tail back at me.

“You’re so close to finishing. One last little push, and you’ll have another costume ready for the markets this weekend. Which ones are you at again? I can never keep up.”

I chewed on my lip, wracking my brain. “Uh … I want to say Showground? Which week is it?”

Ezra’s eye-roll was withering. “It’s the second weekend of the month.”

I grinned sheepishly. “Lakeside Markets, then.”

Ezra’s face lit up. “I hope that hot potter has the stall beside yours again!”

I smirked. “Been thinking about humping Humphrey, have you?”

Ezra guffawed heartily, but his cheeks turned pink. “Thank God you’re so good with names. I was too busy drooling to remember a single thing that came out of his mouth.” Ezra threw his head back and sighed. “The way he moulded that clay …”

“Yes, yes, we all get it. You want his fingers moulding your clay.” I leaned closer, cupping my hands around my mouth like I had a secret for him. “By clay, I mean your rear end.”

Ezra chortled. “He can turn me into a vase and stick his stem in me any day of the week.”

I collapsed into a fit of giggles. Soon my eyes were streaming, my mascara a lost cause. I hiccupped violently.

“Well, make sure you actually talk to him this time, Ez. You won’t be getting any stem-in-vase action if you just goo-goo eye him and blush whenever he so much as blinks in your direction.”

Ezra sighed. “I know. I really know this. Give me some of your confidence with men, Jem.”