CHAPTER FORTY-ONE Emily
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Emily
W e almost kissed last night. I can’t let that happen again.
The thought loops in my head as I move around the kitchen, cracking eggs into a bowl and whisking them like my life depends on it. The smell of coffee fills the air, a familiar comfort in an otherwise disorienting situation. I’m in Joshua Santiago’s apartment, cooking breakfast, pretending I didn’t spend half the night replaying that almost-kiss in my mind.
Get it together, Emily.
I grab my phone from the counter and prop it up, ready for the usual FaceTime with my friends. The distraction is welcome, and it’s time for their weekly dose of chaos anyway.
The screen lights up, and Bon’s face appears, all glowing excitement and windswept hair.
“Hey!” she exclaims, her voice bubbling with enthusiasm. “Paris is amazing!” She launches into a rapid-fire account of her day at the Louvre.
“We saw the Mona Lisa! Honestly, Ryan and I don’t really care about art that much, but we figured, when in Paris, right? So, we—”
She suddenly squints at the screen, leaning closer. “Wait a minute.” Her tone shifts, curious and accusatory all at once. “Em… is that my brother’s apartment? Are you in Kuya’s apartment?!”
My stomach drops. I glance at the unmistakable industrial shelving behind me and groan internally. Of course, Bon would recognize it.
“Oh my gosh!” Kate’s voice chimes in from the corner of the screen. Her wide eyes and grin could power a small city. “Are you two together for real now?”
“No,” I say quickly, holding up a hand as if that will stop the avalanche of assumptions. “This is just… a temporary solution to a temporary problem.”
“Uh-huh, sure,” Haley says, her voice dripping with skepticism. She takes a sip from her mug, clearly enjoying this.
“Seriously,” I insist, flipping the omelet with a little too much force. “It’s not what you think. He offered me a place to crash while I had to sort things out with my landlord. That’s all.”
Kate tilts her head, narrowing her eyes in that sweet but calculating way only she can. “And by ‘figure things out,’ do you mean ‘fall madly in love with Bon’s brother’?”
“Absolutely not,” I say, my voice a little high-pitched.
Bon leans back in her chair, a sly smile creeping onto her face. “You know,” she says, drawing out the words, “Kuya has a very nice apartment. Lots of rooms. Plenty of space for two people to… coexist.”
“Bon!” I nearly drop the spatula.
“What? I’m just saying,” she says, feigning innocence.
Haley raises an eyebrow, smirking. “You’re awfully defensive for someone who’s not interested.”
I open my mouth to argue, but the sound of footsteps behind me stops me cold.
“Good morning,” Josh’s voice rumbles, low and groggy, as he pads into the kitchen. He’s wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt, his hair deliciously messy— Stop it, Emily.
“You shouldn’t have cooked. I would’ve made breakfast for us,” he continues, and then he’s startled as he stares at my phone screen as it erupts into chaos.
“Oh my God, it’s Josh!” Kate squeals.
“Hey, Kuya!” Bon says, waving at the screen like this is a normal situation.
Haley just grins. “Wow, breakfast together. This whole situation really screams temporary to me.”
Josh looks at the screen, then at me, one eyebrow quirked. “Morning, ladies,” he says again, this time with a small, knowing smirk.
I glare at him, willing him to disappear, but Josh is entirely unbothered. He casually pours himself a cup of coffee, moving with that maddening ease like he owns the place. Well, technically, he does, but that’s not the point.
“I hate all of you,” I mutter, flipping the omelet onto a plate with more force than necessary and shoving it toward him. He catches it effortlessly, his grin smug and infuriating.
“Thanks,” he says, his fingers brushing against mine as he takes the plate. It’s a fleeting touch, but it lingers far longer than it should.
“No, you don’t,” Bon chimes in, her grin as wide as the Seine she was probably just gushing about. She leans closer to the screen, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Anyway, Ryan’s trying really hard to be spontaneous right now, so apparently, we’re off to our next destination.”
Her gaze shifts clearly to Ryan, who’s probably standing nearby. The smirk on her face tells me she’s about to drag him into something he’s only half agreed to.
“Bye! Enjoy the apartment, Emily!” she sing-songs, leaving no room for argument as she ends the call before I can protest.
“Traitor,” I grumble at the now-blank screen, setting the phone down with a huff.
Josh takes a bite of the omelet, humming in approval like this is just a regular morning and not some surreal invasion of my personal life. But before I can scold him for his nonchalant attitude, he sneezes—loudly.
“Bless you,” I say automatically, but then my eyes narrow. “Wait… are you sick?”
“No,” Josh replies as he stands up, his voice annoyingly unconvincing as he sniffles.
“Uh-huh,” I say, crossing my arms. “Because that sneeze and those sniffles sound an awful lot like you’re fighting off a cold.”
He shrugs, too casual. “I’m fine.”
“Sure, Mr. ‘I’m Fine,’” I say, stepping closer and squinting at him like I’m trying to diagnose him on the spot. “You look pale.”
“I always look pale,” he retorts, rolling his eyes.
“Yeah, but you also look tired. And your voice is scratchy.”
“I just woke up,” he counters, but his sniffles betray him again.
I grab a tissue box from the counter and shove it toward him. “Here. And sit down. You shouldn’t be standing around acting like a tough guy when you’re obviously not at a hundred percent.”
Josh arches an eyebrow, his lips twitching as though he’s fighting back a smirk. “Emily Rose. Are you… worried about me?”
“No,” I say too quickly, the heat rising to my cheeks. “I just don’t want you sneezing all over the place and getting me sick.”
“Right,” he says, clearly unconvinced. But he takes the tissues anyway and sits down at the kitchen table, his smug grin still firmly in place.
I busy myself at the counter, trying to ignore the way his presence fills the room—or how annoyingly attractive he looks, even with a sniffly nose.
“You’re a terrible liar, you know,” he says after a moment, his voice softer this time.
I spin around, clutching the spatula like it’s a weapon. “Excuse me?”
Josh leans back in his chair, his expression warm and teasing. “Admit it, Emily. You’re worried about me.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” I say, turning back to the stove. But even as I focus on flipping the pancakes, I can’t stop the small smile tugging at my lips.
“So, there,” I say, finishing off the latte with a flourish. I set the cup down and give David a playful smirk. “It’s that easy to make latte art. But I’m not going to teach you all the best tricks, or else you’ll stop buying from us.”
David chuckles, his grin easy. “Trust me, Emily. I’ll always buy from you.”
As he studies his latte—a heart that’s slightly lopsided but still impressive for a beginner—the door chime rings, signaling someone’s arrival. I glance up, and there he is: Joshua, striding in. All eyes dart to him, women murmur, men shuffle in their seats. He has that effect, and stupidly, it works on me too.
His dark jeans, sweater, and coat somehow make him look effortlessly put-together, even though he’s supposed to be in bed recovering.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, hands on my hips, trying to sound more annoyed than I feel. “You’re supposed to be resting.”
“I can’t rest,” he says, his tone playful but his eyes sharp, scanning the cafe like he’s here for some grand purpose. “I need you there.”
I blink, caught off guard, but before I can spiral into overthinking, he cracks a grin. “Kidding,” he adds smoothly. “I needed to swing by the site anyway.” He gestures to the construction project beside the cafe. “But my uncle kicked me out and told me to go home.”
“This is not home,” I say, narrowing my eyes at him.
“It’s where you are,” he replies with that signature wink, the one that’s probably illegal in several countries.
I take a deep breath, trying to keep my composure. I’m not some lovesick teenager who melts under the simplest of gestures. But then, I look at him again. The way he’s standing—leaning casually against the counter—and I’m hit with the reality that I’m completely out of my depth. He knows what he’s doing, and I’m not sure why he’s doing it.
David suddenly clears his throat, reminding me he’s still here. I glance at him, startled, and realize I’d momentarily forgotten his existence. Not my fault—Joshua’s presence could drown out every man in a room. Seriously, all the celebrity Chrises could walk in right now, and I wouldn’t even blink.
“You must be David,” Joshua says, turning his attention to him. His voice is light, but there’s something in his tone that’s hard to ignore. “Did you enjoy your latte art… lesson?”
“Uh, yeah,” David replies, standing a little straighter. “Emily’s a great teacher.”
“No doubt she is,” Joshua says, smiling, but there’s an unmistakable challenge in his eyes.
“Okay, sorry about that, David” I cut in, waving my hands between them like I’m warding off a duel. “Could you excuse us?”
David nods, “Sure,” he says.
I gesture for Joshua to follow me in the employee break room. The moment the door swings shut, I turn to Joshua. “Really? What was that?”
Joshua tilts his head, acting like he’s completely oblivious. “What was what?” he asks, the feigned innocence dripping from his tone like he’s completely unaware of what just happened.
I cross my arms, my patience thinning. “You’re scaring him off,” I say, almost exasperated. “You know, you have that effect on people sometimes. One second, they’re all fine, and then—boom—you show up, and suddenly they’re intimidated.”
“Dramatic,” he says with a shrug, though I can tell he’s enjoying this a little too much. “I’m not scaring him off.”
I let out a heavy sigh, rubbing the back of my neck. “Okay, Joshua, really, what are you doing here?” I ask, suddenly tired of this game we’re playing. “We agreed to be friends. We can’t be what each other wants, so why are you trying to be so… so annoyingly irresistible right now?” I say it almost as a challenge, trying to keep my voice steady, though I can feel my heart skip a beat.
I half expect him to tease me, to throw that smug grin of his back at me and make a joke about how I’m just making things more complicated. But instead, his expression shifts. He looks down for a second, a brief flicker of something I can’t quite place crossing his face—something softer, maybe even vulnerable, that makes my stomach twist in a way I don’t want to acknowledge.
“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, and the words throw me off completely. There’s no teasing this time, no joke. He doesn’t look like he’s having fun. He looks almost… serious?
I blink, surprised at the sudden change in tone. For a moment, I don’t know how to respond, my mind scrambling to process what just happened. This isn’t how I imagined this conversation would go.
“You’re sorry?”
He opens his mouth like he’s about to explain himself, but then he presses his lips together, his jaw tightening. “It’s just… it’s hard sometimes, you know?” His voice is quieter now, more reflective. “It’s hard pretending that what we agreed on is enough, when… when I don’t want to just be your friend.” He looks me in the eye, and there’s something there. Something different. Something real.
The words hang in the air between us, and my breath catches in my throat. Did he just—?
No , he couldn’t possibly mean–?
“I’m going home. I’m sorry again, you don’t deserve to be interrupted like that,” he says. “If you’re enjoying your time with David, I shouldn’t have done that.”
The air between us thickens, and I feel like I might drown in it. I want to be angry; I want to scream at him for messing everything up and for making me feel this... unsettled. But instead, all I can do is stand there, completely unsure of what to say next.
“I should go,” he says again, more softly this time. “I’m sorry again.” He walks past me and toward the door.
Before I can stop myself, I turn, my voice trembling a little. “Joshua, wait—”
But he’s already gone, the door swinging shut behind him with a finality that makes my chest tighten.
I stand there in the silence that follows, the weight of his confession pressing down on me.
What the hell just happened?