She fixed me with a pointed stare. “And I tried so hard to hide it.”
I ignored her. “Why?”
“I don’t think you’re ready to hear that answer, Chass.”
“Fine. Why did you want to come out today?”
“Because it was time.”
I suppressed a sigh of frustration. “Meaning . . . ?”
“Meaning there’s a time for mourning, and there’s a time for moving on.”
It was always the same with her. She always hedged. As if sensing my thoughts, she crossed her arms, leaning onto the table. Expression inscrutable. “All right, then. Maybe you are ready to hear some answers. Let’s make a game of it, shall we? A game of questions to get to know each other.”
I leaned forward too. Returning the challenge. “Let’s.”
“Fine. What’s your favorite color?”
“Blue.”
She rolled her eyes. “Boring. Mine’s gold—or turquoise. Or emerald.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“Because you aren’t as stupid as you look.” I didn’t know whether to be insulted or flattered. She didn’t give me time to decide. “What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done?”
“I—” Blood crept up my throat at the memory. I coughed and stared at her empty plate. “The Archbishop once caught me in a—er, compromising position. With a girl.”
“Oh my god!” She smacked her palms against the table, eyes widening. “You got caught having sex with Célie?”
The people at the next table swiveled to stare at us. I ducked my head, thankful—for the first time ever—I wasn’t wearing my uniform. I glared at her. “Shhh! Of course not. She kissed me, okay? It was just kissing!”
Lou frowned. “Just kissing? That’s no fun at all. Hardly something to be embarrassed about.”
But it had been something to be embarrassed about. The look on the Archbishop’s face—I forced the memory away quickly. “What’s yours, then? Did you strip naked and dance the bourrée?”
She snorted. “You wish. No—I sang at a festival when I was a child. Missed every note. Everyone laughed. I’m a shit singer.”
Our neighbors tsked in disapproval. I grimaced. “Yes, I know.”
“Right. Biggest pet peeve?”
“Swearing.”
“Killjoys.” She grinned. “Favorite food?”
“Venison.”
She pointed to her empty plate. “Sticky buns. Best friend?”
“Jean Luc. You?”
“Really?” Her grin faded, and she stared at me with what looked like—like pity. But that couldn’t be right. “That’s . . . unfortunate. Mine is Brie.”
Ignoring the jab—the look—I interrupted before she could ask another question. “Fatal flaw?”
She hesitated, dropping her gaze to the tabletop. Tracing a knot in the wood with her finger. “Selfishness.”
“Wrath. Greatest fear?”
This time she didn’t hesitate. “Death.”
I frowned and reached across the table to grasp her hand. “There’s nothing to fear in death, Lou.”
She looked up at me, blue-green eyes inscrutable. “There isn’t?”
“No. Not if you know where you’re going.”
She gave a grim laugh and dropped my hand. “That’s the problem, isn’t it?”
“Lou—”
She stood and thrust a finger against my mouth to silence me. I blinked rapidly, trying not to fixate on the sweetness of her skin.
“Let’s not talk about this anymore.” She dropped her finger. “Let’s go see the Yule tree. I saw them putting it up earlier.”
“The Christmas tree,” I corrected automatically.
She continued as if she hadn’t heard me. “We really ought to get you a coat first, though. Are you sure you don’t want me to steal one? It would be easy. I’ll even let you pick the color.”
“I’m not going to let you steal anything. I’ll buy a coat.” I accepted the bit of cloak she offered me, pulling it around us once more. “And I can buy you a new cloak as well.”
“Bas bought this for me!”
“Exactly.” I steered her down the street toward the clothier’s shop. “All the more reason to throw it in the trash where it belongs.”
An hour later, we emerged from the shop in our new garments. A navy wool coat with silver fastenings for me. A white cloak of crushed velvet for Lou. She’d protested when she saw the price, but I’d insisted. The white looked striking against her golden skin, and she’d left her hood down for once. Her dark hair blew loose in the breeze. Beautiful.