23. Emma
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
EMMA
The Big House smells like freshly baked cookies when I walk in on Friday evening, and for a second, I’m hit with an overwhelming sense of relief. There’s something magical about the way this house always feels like a safe haven, like no matter how chaotic things get in my life, I can come back here and breathe again.
Tahlia loves to bake, and she gets off work before anyone else in the Big House, so I expect to find her triple-chocolate chip cookies on the table, ready for our girl’s night in only another hour or so.
I’m so late, but I slide my crate onto the shelf at the back of the kitchen and step over to the dining room table where the cookies are cooling.
They’re not Tahlia’s triple-chocolate chip. They’re Lizzie’s peanut butter mini M&M delights .
Ry will love these, and now that they make mini peanut butter M&Ms, I’m not sure if I’m going to get chocolate on the first bite or double peanut butter.
“Lizzie?” I call, kicking off my sandals and shoving them partially under the shelving. The faint sound of music drifts from somewhere else in the house, some upbeat indie song that perfectly matches her vibe.
I pick up a cookie just as she says, “Those are hot.” She pockets her phone as she approaches, her long, dark blonde hair tied up into a perfect French braid. She’s wearing an off-the-right-shoulder oversized sweatshirt like it’s the next runway-ready piece of clothing and a pair of black leggings. She always looks like a million bucks, even dressed down as she is.
“I need this,” I say, lifting the cookie to my mouth.
“Rough day?”
“It’s Friday.” I take a bite of the soft peanut butter cookie, the edges perfectly crisp. The M&M shell breaks and I get piping hot chocolate on my tongue. I don’t even care, because in this moment, everything is right in the world. “Mm.” I moan and let my eyes roll back in my head. “Merciful marigolds, this is my favorite cookie.”
Lizzie smiles at me and opens the oven to check the batch inside. She never uses a timer the way Tahlia does, but instead “eyeballs” it.
“How was your day?” I ask, leaning against the counter and letting the warmth of the cookie and the comfort of home settle over me .
Lizzie closes the oven and shrugs, but there’s a small, secret smile tugging at her lips. “Not bad. Work was fine.”
“Mm hm. And?”
Her smile grows. “Matt and I had lunch again.”
My eyebrows go up. “Again? How many lunches is that now?”
She blushes, which is rare for Lizzie. She’s usually so composed, so effortlessly calm, so perfectly put together.. “I don’t know. Five? Six?” She takes a breath, and says in a rush, “It’s not a big deal.”
I turn away from her to get another cookie, simply so she can have a moment to collect herself. “It’s so a big deal,” I say. “Just admit it.”
“The ones on the right are peanut butter M&Ms,” she says.
I pick up one on the right and the left. “Are we having dinner tonight?”
“Yes,” Lizzie says. “Claudia is bringing home the extra catering from their calendaring meeting today. She texted.”
“I had no time to check texts.” I turn back to her, and she takes out the cookies and sets them on the stovetop. “And don’t think I’m not considering how many lunch dates it takes to make a relationship.” I take a bite of the double peanut butter delight. “I think six,” I add around a mouthful of deliciousness.
“It’s not a relationship,” she says as she shoots me a glare as she moves over to the dining room table and starts transferring the cookies to the cooling rack. “We just…we talk. He’s easy to talk to.”
“And?” I finish my cookie, realizing the challenge in my voice. “Do you like him?”
She turns away from me, all the answer I need. “Of course I do,” she says. “But he won’t ask me out.”
Lizzie is one of the toughest and most guarded people I know, and seeing her like this—soft, unsure, vulnerable—it makes me want to wrap her in a hug and never let go. “So you’ll tell everyone tonight, and we’ll help you figure it out.”
She nods as she scoops another pan full of cookie dough and slides it into the oven. “Yeah, I don’t want to have to say all of this twice.”
“Incoming,” someone calls from the front door, and I stuff the last of my cookie in my mouth and go see what Claudia needs.
And that’s to stay out of the way as she quick-steps under the load of the catering she’s brought home with her. Thankfully, Tahlia has a table set up in the living room already, and I spy the pink-painted mic sitting there as Claudia slides the box onto it.
“Phew.” She wipes her dark hair out of her face. “Who knew club sandwiches were so heavy?” She’s wearing wedged heels, and I’m sure that doesn’t help.
“Anything else in the car?” Tahlia asks .
“Chips,” Claudia says with a huff. “Packets for the sandwiches. Mayo and mustard and stuff.”
“I’ll go,” I say, and Tahlia comes with me. We get everything out of Claudia’s car as Hillary crosses the lawn toward us.
“Hey,” she calls, and she radiates happiness now in a way I haven’t seen from her in all the years I’ve known her. “Need help?”
I slam the trunk closed as Tahlia says, “We got it all.”
Hill still comes toward us and gives Tahlia a hug and then me. “Hey, you,” she says with a glinting note in her tone. “I just saw Aaron at my place.”
I look that way. “Yeah, he’s over there tonight.”
“Beckett is the only one who hasn’t arrived,” Hillary said. “Ry just dropped off Elliott, and she’s driving over so she doesn’t have to walk back in the dark.”
We all go into the Big House, where Ry has arrived. She’s setting plates on the table and chatting easily with Claudia about something that happened at the office supply store where she works.
“Ry’s got her M&Ms,” Hillary says as she scoops up a handful. “What kind are these?”
“I’m surprise you can’t tell by the shape of them,” Ry says. She glows too, and I wonder if she’ll have news tonight. She and Elliott have only been married for about a month, but Ry’s told us they want to have a baby right away, so Elliott can experience and see as much of his life and family while he still can .
She won’t say anything until we’ve eaten and Tahlia’s explained the rules of our Mic Night, so I pick up a plate and say, “I’m starving.”
“You ate three cookies only five minutes ago,” Lizzie says in a deadpan.
“And lunch with Aaron was hours before that,” I say, kicking open the door for the shenanigans to begin.
“Ooh, you did it,” Hillary said, bumping me with her hip as I pick up a boxed lunch with a club sandwich and potato salad inside, according to the sticker on the outside. “You better start talking, lady. I want all the goods on my husband’s best friend.”
I think about our mini argument earlier this week and dinner with his family last week. I think of how he brings me the mint truffles I like for no reason at all, and all the simple weeknight meals he’s made for me. I think of how I lay awake when I first crawl into bed, and he makes me smile with the things he’s said and done that day.
“I think things are going really well for us,” I say. “For the most part.”
“Oh, those last four words concern me,” Ry says.
I take my food over to one of the recliners and sit down with a sigh. “I feel like I’m using him for the park project, and because he’s such an amazing builder, that we’ll win—and all I did was plant flowers.”
“Okay,” Tahlia says, and I see her shoot looks to everyone else in the room. It works too, because they stay silent, which is just what I need. If they all start shouting things at me, my thoughts get derailed, and I just shut down.
“And he’s just wonderful, you know.” I rip open a mayo packet and realize I haven’t even gotten out my sandwich yet. “A little scattered sometimes. A little anxious, but nothing he can’t manage or that bothers me too much.”
“Don’t sound so happy that your boyfriend is wonderful,” Claudia says.
“Yeah, what’s with the ‘for the most part’ bit?” Ry asks as she sits on the end of the couch nearest me. She watches me with soulful eyes, and I don’t know how to answer her.
I stay silent as I peel the plastic wrap off my sandwich and lift the lid so I can mayo and mustard it. Chatter picks up at the table as others get their food, and I listen to them chit and chat about this and that. No one forces me to say anything about Aaron, but as we finish eating, Tahlia reaches over the back of the couch and scrabbles around to find the pink mic.
“Emma,” she says, but my phone has vibrated with a text from Aaron.
I’m sure you’re having fun, but guy’s night is not really my vibe.
Really? Liam’s your best friend and you like Beckett and Elliott.
Sure, I like them. Food’s great. I’d rather be watching a romantic comedy with you on my couch.
“Emma,” Claudia barks, and she yanks my phone out of my hands. “It’s time to talk, and you’re first.” She replaces my phone with the pink mic, which is just a paper towel tube that’s been shortened and made into a cone at the bottom, with a tennis ball atop it. Tahlia repaints the whole thing bright pink every few months, and I hold it up to my mouth like I’m about to start a mega-concert in a super-arena.
“I’m worried that I’m too bossy,” I say into the mic. “I’m worried that he’s too good to be true. I’m worried that he sometimes gets so ultra-focused on projects that he forgets to include me, so that makes me wonder if I can trust him to do what we talked about doing.”
I take a breath and look around at my adoring fans. Lizzie pops a chip in her mouth, as she’s heard some of this before. “But I really like him,” I say. “I worry that we’re too busy to be together.”
“You won’t have three weddings in three months all the time,” Tahlia says.
“And he’s not Tucker,” Lizzie adds.
I flinch at her words, but Hillary says, “Yeah, he’s not even close to Tucker.”
“He’s not Tucker,” Claudia says, and my gaze darts to hers.
“He’s the opposite of Tucker,” Tahlia says. “And Em, you’re going to have to figure that out, because everything else just seems like…” She looks around at everyone, then finishes with, “Nothing.”
“She’s right,” Hillary says.
I extend the mic to Ryanne, who sits closest to me. “Okay,” I say. “That’s me.”
He’s not Tucker rings in my ears, and while I haven’t thought about him since that day he showed up in my shop—and Aaron fake-kissed me as my fake-boyfriend—I can acknowledge that my relationship with Tucker has informed my decisions in the dating arena.
I hate that I’ve let him do that, especially for this long, but the fact is, I have. And blooming begonias, I don’t know how to stop.
Ry smiles around at all of us. “I’m happy to report that Luna, Peppermint, Elliott, and I are adding another member of our family.”
Tahlia sucks in a breath, and I refocus on the conversation. Ry giggles and says, “I’m getting a new sister-in-law in October, number one.”
“Boo,” Claudia says, cupping her hands around her mouth as she does.
“Yeah, that’s mean,” Hillary says.
“ And we’re getting chickens in a couple of weeks,” Ry says, still grinning for all she’s worth. “We’ve only been married for a month, and no, I’m not pregnant yet.” She passes the mic to Lizzie, and I lean forward, my eyes on the only roommate I share the second floor with now that Ry is gone.
“I’ve had lunch with M—a man at work several times,” Lizzie says. “I really like him, and I feel like I’ve been dropping I’m-single hints for a solid month now, and he still hasn’t asked me out. I need ideas for what else I can do.” She lets the mic fall to her lap as she looks around at us. In a hurry, she whips the mic back to her mouth. “And I don’t want to ask him, so don’t say that.”
Hillary’s shoulders go down, and Claudia, who always has something to say, glances around like she’s lost.
“You’re friends already?” Tahlia asks.
“Yes,” Lizzie says. “It’s friendly, not like Claude and Beckett.”
“Well, if I had any success getting a man at work to ask me out,” Tahlia says. “I wouldn’t still be single. So.”
I give her a sad smile, because Tahlia’s not had the best luck with men, friends or enemies or anywhere in between. Claudia reaches over and pats her leg, because Tahlia herself looks so sullen.
“Does he have a girlfriend?” I ask.
Lizzie shakes her head. “He says no.”
“Maybe he doesn’t date,” Hillary says. “Maybe he just got out of a bad break-up.”
“Maybe,” Lizzie says. “His mother lives here, and he’s got a sister in Hilton Head. He’s smart, and funny, and I don’t know. I just think we’d have an amazing time together, and I don’t know what he wants to see in me that he’s not.”
“You can’t change who you are,” Hillary says quietly.
“Yeah.” Lizzie hands the mic to Tahlia, the third person on the couch.
“Wait,” I say. “I think you should introduce—hear me out—a fake boyfriend. Just start talking about this hot guy you’re going out with, and see if he gets jealous.”
“Maybe he’s not into women,” Hillary says.
“He’s talked about former girlfriends,” Lizzie says.
“Wear the eggplant wrap dress,” Claudia says, nodding over to me. “And talk about your hot date this weekend and see how he reacts to that.”
Lizzie shakes her head, though her smile has appeared. “The eggplant wrap dress is a ballgown, Claudia. It has sequins and everything.”
“Not ChemTech appropriate?” Claudia teases. “Weird.”
I laugh with the others, and it feels good to do so. Tahlia wants to pass, and she gives the mic to Hillary.
“I have no news,” she says. “Liam and I aren’t in a hurry to have children, and I don’t know. Things are settled and great.”
The mic lands in Claudia’s hand and she sighs. “I’m regretting my long engagement now,” she says. “That’s it. I don’t want to talk about it more than this. I’m simply ready to be married. ”
“But I’ll miss you so much.” I get up and pile on her where she’s sitting on the love seat, and that causes a flurry of activity as everyone vacates their spot and joins us amidst Claudia yelling and others laughing.
In the end, we’re all giggling, though there are elbows where elbows should never be and I’m getting just as smashed as Claudia.
I don’t care. I love these ladies, and I hate that some of them are moving on and moving out. At the same time, I’m wondering if I’m ready to do that…with Aaron.