22
Zoe
“I know you don’t do Valentine’s Day,” I say, once Anna has ushered me into her kitchen, where all the ingredients I asked her to pick up at the store are laid out on the table, arranged in little groups.
I’ve been racking my brain about this all day—in between tending to the store on the busiest day it’s had so far—and I concluded it would be best to just give Anna her present as quickly as possible. If I risk her going on another anti-Valentine’s rant, which I think is highly likely considering the date, I might lose the courage to give it to her at all. And I really want her to have it, but I also don’t want to make too big a deal out of it in order to not make her too uncomfortable.
“But I got you this.” I take a package out of my bag. Before I give it to her, I say, “It’s a
