"I don't eat sweets," Melinda said simply. Every single one of her instincts and deeply engrained habits was telling her to move away from him, but she didn't want to hurt him. He hadn't done anything to deserve being rebuffed.
Suffering Salazar, she wished he'd never told her he loved her. It was so much easier when she didn't have to worry if it was true, if she was making him unhappy, about any of this.
"I make them," she explained, finally moving away from him under the pretense of fiddling with the cups. "But I never eat them."