married for show
"Don't worry about it. No harm done. Are you planning on baking a masterpiece, or just craving strawberries and cream?"
The girl laughed, a soft, musical sound that made a strange, unfamiliar flutter kick against my ribs. She knelt down beside me, grabbing the cream. "Attempting to bake, actually. Key word being attempting. I'm trying to make a strawberry tart for my sister's birthday, but considering I just attacked a stranger in the grocery aisle, the kitchen might not survive the night."
I stood up, offering her a hand to help her up. She took it, her hand small and delicate inside mine, her grip surprisingly firm.