Sugar & Spice

Chapter 14

A/N: I love every single one of you for taking up arms for our sweet, dear Crissy!! Dedicated to ShadowryWriter for threatening to beat Quinn with a sugar cane because I haven't stopped laughing over that all week. 

Dimly, Crissy became aware of early morning light spilling into her apartment window and falling across her face. Her scrapbook was still tucked tightly into her arms. The sheets had become twisted and tucked around her in the night. She groaned and pressed her face into the pillows again. One day left. One day and then she'd be back to work. And she had every intention of spending it in bed berating herself for taking a flying leap of faith on the wrong man. Again.

Slowly, Crissy opened her eyes. And more ration thoughts began to seep into her mind, despite her best attempts at ignoring them. Amy would be by to check on her pretty soon. The minute she stepped in the door and noticed the trail of rejected winter clothing all the way up to Crissy's apartment, she would know something was wrong, very, very wrong.

Crissy forced herself into a sitting position, her eyes screwed shut against the bright morning light. She placed a hand lightly against her aching head then pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes. She took in a shaky breath to compose herself and swung her feet to the floor. She was tired of crying over men breaking her heart. Amy had picked up Crissy and put her back together before, but Crissy was determined Amy wasn't going to do that again.

Crissy shoved off the bed and started picking up the discarded clothing she had abandoned the previous day. With every step she took, with every article of clothing she picked up, she heard him.

Step.

Hat.

Is everything about food with you?

Step.

Coat.

Is everything...?

Crissy snapped up straight so fast that black spots danced across her vision. "Screw you," she said aloud.

In a fury now, she gathered the last of her clothing but as she stormed towards the kitchen, a small package at the door caught her attention and made her pause. She hadn't picked up the mail yesterday, too lost in her own mess to care about anything else.

Crissy opened the door and snatched up the box as cold air snaked down her t-shirt. She didn't know what she expected, or what she hoped for, or whether her hopes and expectations were really one and the same. Did she want it to be an apology from Quinn? Or did she want nothing to do with him?

But one glance at the address label made her groan because neither her expectations nor her hopes made any difference.

Lisa Atwood.

"Not Mom," she sighed. "Not today."

She knew exactly what would be in that box too. Her mother's new diet for the wedding. The diet her mother insisted she go on as well.

Crissy fled to the sanctuary of her kitchen and dumped her winter clothes and the box on the counter. She ripped open the refrigerator door and started pulling out butter, eggs, milk, cream, and shoved them onto the counter.

Crissy was enveloped in a cloud of flour, furiously whisking when Amy's sing-song voice chirped from the shop.

"Morning, cupcake!" she called. Her footsteps came closer, rounded the counter, and entered the kitchen. "I brought milkshakes and french fries and I thought..." Her footsteps stopped dead and her bag dropped to the floor with a whump.