What was she supposed to do? Would Rory start to dislike her brother because he… wasn't capable?
And if she disliked her brother... would she end up disliking her too?
The more Lola thought about it, the more anxious she became.
As Rory guided her through making a cake, she quickly noticed something was off.
Lola kept getting distracted, her movements sluggish, her thoughts clearly elsewhere.
She added the wrong amount of sugar—again.
That was the third time.
Rory finally set down what she was holding and looked at her seriously.
"Lola, is something on your mind?"
She softened her tone.
"If it's something you can share, maybe I can help."
"No!" Lola shook her head so hard it was practically a blur. "Rory, I'm fine. Nothing's wrong."
There were too many people in the room—her own companions, and Rory's as well.
There was no way she could say something like that out loud.
This concerned a male's dignity.
