“Are you all right, babe?” Annie threw an arm over Jane’s shoulder and gave her a quick squeeze.

“I’m good,” Jane said, and she sounded as though she meant it. As though she didn’t have the faintest clue of all the things going through Annie’s mind.

“I’m going to wash my hands,” Annie said. “I’ll be right back.” She had to take a moment to herself.

Annie stood in the washroom, breathing deeply, when Caitlin waltzed in. Great.

“Annie, thanks for having me tonight. I had a gay old time.”

“It was my pleasure, believe me.” All throughout Caitlin’s reading, Annie had been thinking about that wretched conversation with her. She’d vowed to stay away from Kristin as best she could throughout the evening, which hadn’t been hard because Kristin had been busy in the coffee shop area while Annie had her hands full ringing up books. But once most people had left, Annie—high as she was on the adrenaline of a successful evening—had gravitated naturally toward Kristin. She’d found herself talking to Kristin before she even consciously realized what she was doing. Once she’d stood so close to Kristin she could smell her perfume, she hadn’t been able to drag herself away. Until Jane had interrupted them.

“Please excuse me,” Caitlin said and disappeared into a stall—to Annie’s great relief. She was already feeling guilty enough and didn’t need to be admonished by, what she hoped, was the only person present tonight aware of her silly infatuation.

Annie washed her hands and concluded that Rita had been right. She should keep more distance from Kristin. It was the only sensible thing to do. She’d ask Andrew to schedule Kristin’s volunteer work when she wasn’t there so they wouldn’t end up together in the cramped kitchen. She would relinquish her plans of inviting Sheryl and Kristin to dinner. Obviously, she couldn’t escape Kristin’s presence in her shop entirely, but she could control her reaction to it. Besides, now that the coffee shop was up and running, Kristin stopped by less and less. And Annie wasn’t a teenager anymore. She could control her urges. Although, she suspected, when it came to infatuation and the behavior it provoked, age had very little to do with it.

Annie gazed at her reflection in the mirror and made a silent vow to herself. Enough was enough. This was the moment she was getting her priorities straight. Her wife was her number one priority again from now on.

Annie hurried out of the washroom before Caitlin emerged from the stall. She wouldn’t put it past Caitlin to give her another friendly word of advice, something Annie could use, but hardly felt like enduring.

Chapter Eighteen