6
Nadine
Ceris sat on the other side of the kitchen island, looking at me as if I was going to burst into flames at any second. Here was the only place in the apartment where Ceris hadn’t lit scented candles—probably because it already smelled of coffee and whatever else we were baking or cooking.
“What?” I asked her again.
“Nothing,” she answered again.
I wasn’t buying it. I reached for one of the sandwiches Keisha had made for dinner and left on a tray for us. Ceris took one too.
“Why are you babysitting me?”
“I’m not babysitting you.”
“Yes, you are.” I took a long drink of water. The cold drink washed down my throat, reinvigorating me. She thought I was going to let my emotions get the best of me—the emotions I was desperately trying to ignore. Oh my God, Micah was here! He was
