“Oh, come on. You can’t say that.” Mia painted on her widest smile. “Now you’ve made me all curious.”

“Let’s just say Jane and I had a bit of a fight.”

“Ah. I get it. I won’t inquire any further then. I’m sure you’ll sort it out.”

Annie was certain of that as well. Even last night, in the depths of the despair that comes with sleeplessness, she never feared for the actual survival of their marriage. When you’ve been together as long as they had and, more importantly, as happily as they’d been, things didn’t go bust that easily. Especially not after they’d made it through the Beth Walsh debacle. Annie liked to think they’d learned some lessons from that, painful though they were.

The first customer of the day announced herself. Annie had her back to the door, but she was certain it was their neighbor Agatha who had developed a taste for Pink Bean lattes and was usually the first to walk in.

She turned in her seat and gave Agatha a bright smile—much brighter than she felt. If all else failed, she had the familiarity and comfort of this shop to fall back on. It would make the passage of time until she and Jane could go back to how they were before, go that little bit faster.

Chapter Twenty-Two

“At least you look better than your Missus,” Mia said. Jane had insisted Annie get some sleep. She knew what sleeping on the couch did to a person, not only physically, but to their morale, and if she and Annie were to have a chat later today, she wanted Annie to have slept soundly for at least a few hours.

Jane arched her eyebrows. Had Annie confided in Mia as well as in Kristin? A pang of anger shot through her at the memory of Annie talking to Kristin. But no, Mia was only commenting on how Jane looked in comparison to Annie, whose ashen complexion easily betrayed her lack of sleep.

“Thanks, I guess,” Jane said sheepishly. “Did Annie say something?”

“Just that she was in the doghouse. And I didn’t pry.” Mia gave her a quizzical look. “But I’m here if you want to talk. Baristas can provide the same set of patient, listening ears as bartenders, even though we don’t serve alcohol to lubricate the vocal chords.”

“I wouldn’t want you to get in the middle of our spat,” Jane said. Spat. Was that all this was? Or did it run deeper?

“I hope it will be resolved soon.” Mia started wiping down tables.

“Me too,” Jane whispered.

The door of the shop flew open and Caitlin and Josephine walked in.

“Well, well,” Mia said, “look who the cat dragged in.” She greeted them both with a peck on the cheek.