Chapter 8
CHAPTER
EIGHT
EMMA
Never answer a phone when the caller withholds their number. I should know better than that, especially since I’m currently avoiding not one but two men. Both of whom I’ve kissed. But it’s the shop phone ringing and Grandad is talking to a customer, so I snatch it up and hit accept as I speak into the mouthpiece.
“The Vintage Verse, Emma speaking. How can I help you?” It’s been two days since Brooks Salinger descended on the shop and I haven’t spoken to him since. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of even thinking I’ve been considering his suggestion. Because it’s stupid. And the thought of being that close to him for four days is disarming.
“Is this Emma Robbins?” a female voice asks. It sounds familiar but I can’t quite place it.
“Speaking. Can I help you?”
“Don’t hang up. It’s Jemima. Mia’s cousin.”
Oh. My stomach tightens. It’s one thing having Will calling me. Quite another having the woman that Will cheated on me with calling at work.
I feel stupidly violated. Which is weird because I’m over it. I really am.
“Are you there?” she asks when I don’t reply. I take a long breath in, my mind whirring in about thirty different directions.
“How can I help you?” I repeat. Grandma taught me how to answer the shop phone when I was little. I loved helping when she and Granddad were working. My mom would drop me off while she caught up with old friends.
Later, when I came to live here for good, I’d get off the school bus right outside the building and run in, ready to hang out with them for a couple of hours before we all went home for dinner.
It’s Jemima’s turn to take a long breath. “Will’s been trying to contact you,” she says. “But he tells me you won’t answer his messages or return his calls.”
“I have nothing to say to him. Or you.”
“He’s not trying to get back with you,” she says, as though I’ve just started weeping. “He just wanted to talk to you about Cassie’s wedding. We’re going as a couple. He’s a good man and wanted to make sure you wouldn’t be there.”
“Why would it matter if I was there?” I ask, confused. “It didn’t seem to cause any problems for you at Mia’s wedding.”
“What happened there was unfortunate,” she says.
“Unfortunate?” I repeat.
“Obviously we didn’t want you to find out about us that way.”
I blink. Find out about them? As in, there was something going on before the wedding? I don’t know why, but it feels like somebody’s slamming their boot-clad feet into my gut.
“But since it’ll be our debut at Cassie’s wedding, obviously we’d prefer it if you weren’t there,” she continues. “It’ll be better all round, don’t you think? I spoke with Cassie yesterday and she says you haven’t RSVPed yet. But I assumed you weren’t planning on going, anyway.”
Cassie sent out her invitations at the last minute. Originally, they were planning to get married next year, but Derek has been offered a job in London so they’ve been scrambling to rearrange everything. Luckily for her, her dad is loaded and he has a ranch in Montana that’s perfect for their nuptials.
Cassie’s dad is a tech billionaire. Even their wedding invitations were high tech, on a portal that has options for everything, plus an NDA to sign because he’s super private.
“I was actually,” I tell her, annoyed at her sounding like she’s doing me a favor. “There’ve just been some logistical wrinkles I needed to iron out.”
“But we RSVPed first,” she whines. “That’s not fair.”
“Wedding invitations aren’t first come first serve,” I point out, annoyed at the way she’s making me feel I’m the person in the wrong here. “Cassie invited me and I’m going.”
“Are you trying to make our lives difficult?” she asks. “If you think you can win Will back you’re wrong. He’s not interested. He’s in love with me. Why don’t you just stay away?”
“I’m not trying to do anything,” I tell her. “The thought of you two didn’t even cross my radar. I’m not interested in Will. You’re welcome to his cheating ass. I’ve moved on. I’m going to the wedding with somebody else.”
“You are?” She sounds skeptical. “Who?”
“Brooks Salinger,” I say. Satisfaction washes over me. Take that, scrawny legs.
She actually laughs. “Don’t be silly. Brooks Salinger doesn’t date. Everybody knows that.”
“Well he’s dating me,” I tell her. “More than that, we’re in a relationship.”
“I don’t believe you.”
To be fair, I don’t believe me either. “I don’t care if you believe me. Your opinion is of no importance to me. Now, is there anything else or can I end this call and get back to work?”
I look up to see Granddad walking toward the counter with a customer, who has a copy of an old Arthur Hailey novel in his hands. Granddad loves Arthur Hailey. He has a little shrine to all his books in the shop's window.
“Just try not to make a scene,” she says, sounding unsure of herself for the first time. I like it a little too much.
“Wasn’t planning on it,” I tell her. “And please tell Will not to make a scene either. Brooks isn’t exactly his biggest fan. I’m worried that he’ll end up flattening him. He has five inches and thirty pounds on Will, after all.”
“He wants to assault Will?” she asks, her voice shrill.
“I don’t know. Best just to keep them apart, yeah?”
“Oh. Okay.” She sounds deflated.
“Thanks for calling,” I tell her. “Give my best wishes to your mom.” I don’t even know her mom. I’m just putting on a show for Granddad because he’s listening in as he rings up his customer’s purchase.
Then I hang up and take a deep breath.
“Everything okay?” Granddad asks as he slides the book into a paper bag with The Vintage Verse printed across it and hands the customer his receipt.
“Everything’s fine,” I say, keeping my voice light. “Absolutely and completely fine.”
Except for the fact that I’ve just dropped myself in it big time. And I think I’m dragging Brooks Salinger down with me. Although he only has himself to blame for that.
Kind of.
“Can you give me five?” I ask. “I need to use the bathroom.”
“Go ahead.” Granddad waves me off and I grab my phone as I walk around the counter and head to the back of the shop where the bathrooms are.
And when I’m in the stall I pull Brooks’ name up and unblock the number before typing out a message.
Okay. The answer is yes. But we need to discuss terms. Please call me tonight. – Emma
And once we’ve had our discussion I swear I’m never going to answer the phone without knowing who’s calling again.
brOOKS
It’s almost nine o’clock by the time I get home and actually call Emma. I hadn’t been able to call sooner because I’ve been in board meetings, but her message made me smile like nothing else has in a long time.
And when my dad asked me about the Redfern Building, I was happy to say that I was in deep negotiations with the tenants.
Even if I didn’t explain they were the negotiations that would lead to me being Emma’s date at Derek and Cassie’s wedding.
Emma picks up after the second ring.
“Hello?” she whispers.
“Are you alone?” I ask, feeling slightly alarmed at how quiet she is. Whispering is such a stark contrast to howling at the moon.
Or to telling me to stuff my offers where the sun doesn’t shine.
“I am,” she whisper-replies. “But the couple in the apartment next door has put in three complaints against me for talking too loud.”
My lips twitch. “Maybe we should do this another time.”
“No!” She groans because she’s said it too loud. Her voice goes back to a whisper. “No. Let’s do it now. Get it over with. Like a frontal lobotomy.”
“You think talking to me is like getting a frontal lobotomy?” I don’t know whether to be annoyed or amused.
She sighs. “Listen, I have a headache. Can we cut to the chase? Do you still want to be my plus one at the wedding?”
“No,” I reply.
“Oh.” She sounds almost upset. “Why not?”
“You’ll be my plus one.”
“Ugh. Are we really doing semantics here?” she whispers. “We can be each other’s plus ones.”
“Okay.” I put the phone onto speaker and lay it on the kitchen counter. I’m still in my dress pants and shirt. My jacket and tie were already discarded on one of the high stools in front of the breakfast bar. I barely ate all day and I’m starving. “Let’s start with this. Why did you change your mind?”
I grab an apple from the bowl and bite into it.
“What’s that?” she asks.
“What’s what?”
“That horrible crunching sound.”
“I’m eating an apple,” I tell her. “I haven’t had dinner yet.”
“But it’s nine o’clock. Why haven’t you eaten? It’s not good to eat late at night. Have you heard of cheese mares?”
“What are cheese mares?” I’m confused now. How did we get off the subject so quickly? Somebody needs to study her brain and work out her thought processes. She’s so unpredictable.
“Cheese mares are the bad dreams you get at night when you eat cheese too late.”
“But I’m eating an apple,” I point out. I take another bite, mostly because my stomach is growling at me.
“Then you’ll get apple mares,” she says. “They’re probably worse than cheese mares. They’ll pretend to be healthy, but then they’ll turn around and bite you.”
I hold the half-eaten apple out at arm’s length and frown at it. “Are you going to be like this at the wedding?”
“Like what?” she asks. “I’m just trying to warn you. And as your adoring girlfriend, isn’t it right that I should be worried about your health? And your sleep patterns?”
“My adoring girlfriend,” I say, frowning. That doesn’t sound right at all.
“Okay, your slightly annoyed but also caring girlfriend.”
“It was the girlfriend bit I wasn’t sure of,” I tell her. “It sounds weird.”
“So what will you call me at the wedding?” she asks.
“You’re talking like it’s a done deal,” I point out.
“It is. You offered. I took you up on the offer.”
My stomach growls again. Fuck it, I grab a pack of chips from the cupboard and open them, then scoop a handful into my mouth.
“That doesn’t sound like an apple,” she says.
“What are you, the food police?” I shake my head. I’m wondering if this is a good idea.
“I’m serious. You need to take your nutrition more seriously, Brooks. How old are you again?”
“You already asked me that. And anyway you should know how old I am. You’re my adoring girlfriend,” I remind her.
There’s a pause. “You’re right. I should.” Then she lets out a sigh. “I know nothing about you. This isn’t going to work, is it?”
“Not like this, no,” I say. But I need to get her to see that unit. I need her shop out of my damn building. There has to be a way to make it happen. “We need to do this face to face,” I tell her.
“What?”
“We need to learn about each other. Like for an exam. Tell each other everything. I need to know your deepest, darkest secrets.”
“I’m not telling you those.” She sounds alarmed.
“And we need to do it without you whispering them to me.” I’m getting ear strain from trying to hear her.
“I’m not telling you my secrets,” she says again.
“So you do have secrets,” I say. Damn, I really want to know what they are.
“Doesn’t everybody?”
“I guess.”
“I bet you have secrets,” she says, turning the conversation back on me. “I bet they’re big. And juicy.”
“No, I don’t,” I lie.
“Tell me one.”
“I’m not telling you anything.” I eat another handful of chips. They’re steak and onion flavored. Meat and vegetables – they’re practically a full meal.
“Can you stop crunching?” she asks me. “It’s hurting my ears.”
“You whispering is hurting my ears. I preferred the howling.”
She lets out a grunt. “Tell me one secret or the deal is off,” she says.
I frown. “You tell me one first.”
“I asked first,” she whisper-replies.
God, she’s annoying. “Okay. When I was seventeen my oldest brother caught me jacking off to a Baywatch episode.”
She laughs really loudly. Then there’s a thud. “Shit, that’s them. I’m so going to get another letter.”
“I’ve told you mine. Now tell me yours.”
“I have nothing. I’m an open book. And I never got into Baywatch .” She sniggers again.
“Tell me why you changed your mind about this arrangement,” I say. That shuts her up. There’s no laugh. Just silence.
“You really want to know?” For the first time in the entire conversation she sounds vulnerable. Like the woman who made herself shoeless and in need of my help. Not gonna lie, it makes my chest feel tight. I’m a sucker for a damsel in distress. Even if I’m not anybody’s white knight.
“If you want to tell me,” I say, because underneath everything I’m not a complete asshole.
She lets out a long breath. “I got a call from Jemima today. That’s my ex’s girlfriend. The one he…”
“Yeah, I remember.” Why am I trying to make this easier on her? I’ve no idea, yet suddenly I want to. “Why the hell was she calling you?”
“She told me she doesn’t want me to go to the wedding.”
“What?” I shout. Christ, I hope she doesn’t have me on speaker. “Why would she say that?”
“She thinks I’m still pining after Will, I guess.”
“Are you?” I ask, feeling suddenly vulnerable myself.
“No. But I didn’t like the way she felt she could say that to me. So I told her I was going with you.”
“Good.”
“Is it?” she asks. “Because I feel like I’ve completely messed up. They’re going to figure out that we aren’t really together, aren’t they? They’re all going to know and I’m going to be a laughing stock.”
“No,” I tell her firmly. “You’re not. We’re going to make this work, the two of us.”
“We are?” She doesn’t sound so sure.
“Yes.” I say, sounding certain. Because there’s nothing I like more than a challenge. “We are. You’ll show them they can’t keep you down.”
“If you say so.”
“I do. Now you said you had terms. What are they?”
There’s a pause. “I’m only agreeing to look at the unit. Not take it.”
“Agreed. What else?” I ask, because I’ll worry about that bit when the time comes.
“This is a pure business arrangement. There’ll be no… funny business.”
“Funny business,” I repeat. “Does that mean I can’t do the comedy skit I had planned for you?”
She almost laughs. I can tell. And I like it.
“Shut up, you know what I mean.”
“Okay. There won’t be any funny business. But there’ll need to be the appearance of funny business,” I tell her.
“What does that mean?”
“It means we’re going to have to appear to be wild for each other. Even if we’re not. It means I might touch you. Kiss you. Tell you I’m taking you to bed.”
“But you won’t really be taking me to bed?”
“No. But we’ll have to share a room.”
She lets out a long breath.
“But there’ll be no funny business in there,” I tell her. “I promise.”
“Okay,” she says softly. “And don’t worry. I can pretend to be wild for you.”
“Thanks. I think.” It’s my turn to smile. “And if we’re going to do this properly, we need to get to know each other. What you said about the secrets? You were right. We need to have all those cute little conversations. The ones you have when you’re getting to know each other.”
“The ones you have after sex,” she says. And my body tightens.
“Yeah,” I grunt out.
“We can do that. We have a couple of weeks.” She doesn’t sound so sure.
“Of course we can.” A plan is forming in my head. And to be honest, it feels like a welcome break from the usual thoughts in there. “I’ll call you every night. During the day I’ll send over a list of questions. You can do the same for me.”
“I’m not sending you a list. I’ll just ask them as they occur.”
I’m not going to argue with her. She’s finally talking to me, and I’m not planning on risking that. “Okay, that’s fine. And next week I’m going to take you out.”
“What?” Her voice lifts about a hundred octaves.
“Your neighbors are listening,” I remind her. “Sound happy about it.”
“Oh yay. Why?” Her voice is deadpan.
“Because there are no photographs of us. We need to start a social media trail. And we need to see if we can do this face to face before we make idiots of ourselves.”
“I guess you’re right,” she says grudgingly. I can almost hear the gnashing of her teeth as she replies.
“Of course I am. Now I’m going to hang up and finish my dinner.”
“Chips aren’t dinner.”
“Thank you. I like the way you take care of me. My little honeybun.” I add the last bit just to enjoy her reaction.
“Fuck off.”
“I love you too, baby,” I tell her. And there’s a little grunt of frustration.
“Now go to bed,” I instruct. “You need your beauty sleep. I’ll call you tomorrow at nine. Be ready to work harder than you have in your whole life.”
I hang up with a smile on my face. Maybe this could even be enjoyable?
Keep your mind on the game, Salinger. You’re doing this for business reasons. You need to get her eyes on that unit.
That’s the only reason I’m doing this. And the only reason I’m actually looking forward to attending a wedding for the first time in forever. I grin as I slide another chip between my lips.