Chapter 6
Frenemies
Caroline
“That’s not a secure password.” I chastised him. He shrugged. “So who’s this friend I need to text?”
“Emma... hmm. Her name might be under Emma or Woodward.”
“You’re meeting Emma Woodward tonight?” I asked disbelievingly.
“You know her?” I struggled for a minute to explain my evident shock that Emma Woodward was the friend he was meeting. I couldn’t tell him about his father’s whole matchmaking scheme.
“No, but I’ve heard of her.” I searched through his contacts for her number.
My fingers itched to see what Wyatt had for my contact photo.
I typed in my name. And had the strangest reaction when I found I wasn’t in his contacts.
I was disappointed, which made no sense.
Why would I be in his contacts? We’d never been friends.
But it seemed wrong somehow. Wyatt knew more about me than most of my friends and family.
He should have my number. I snapped a quick selfie and examined the photo.
Perfect, I looked extra hot for my date.
I added myself to his contacts with the name: Her Majesty.
I then sent myself a quick text from his phone.
I smirked when the message came through.
I’m obsessed with you
“What are you laughing about?”
“Nothing,” I said innocently as I added him to my contacts under just his last name.
With that important task accomplished, I scrolled through his phone looking for this Emma chick.
I found her under Emma . I couldn’t tell what she looked like from the small thumbnail. Plus, she was pulling a crazy face.
“What should I text her?” I asked. “Hold on! Am I crashing a date?”
“Not at all. Emma and I are just old friends catching up.” Old friends who kissed once, I thought to myself.
And then remembered that I also fell in that category.
I glanced over. Wyatt’s eyes remained steady on the road, oblivious to where my thoughts were.
“Text her: Meet us at Uncle Vito’s. I’ll explain when you get there. ”
“Us?” I asked.
“Seems nice to give her a heads up that there’s someone with me.”
“Are you certain I’m not crashing a date?”
“Absolutely; Emma has a boyfriend.” This piece of news should not have cheered me. Emma dating someone else messed up all my plans with Mo. Still, I definitely felt a boost of serotonin.
“Okay, sent it.”
“Thanks!”
“How long since you two last saw each other?” I was totally fishing here. Mo told me about Emma, but I wanted to hear Wyatt’s take on her.
“Years... not since the summer before my senior year. She moved overseas and then went to Cornell for school.”
Since my ultimate goal was to bring Wyatt and Emma together, tagging along on their first meetup was counterproductive.
But I had absolutely no desire to go back to the town house where my mom was watching movies with Jeff.
Plus, I was starving. So I told myself that it was critical to my job to suss out the situation.
Was this supposed boyfriend serious? Did we need to find someone else for Wyatt to date?
A text came through.
Emma:
Always up for ?? Leaving now ??
I read it out loud to him.
“Good. I knew she’d be cool about this. She’s chill.”
“So . . . the opposite of me?”
Wyatt let out a full-throated laugh.
“You have a wicked sense of humor,” he said. “You know that, right?”
“Yes, but it’s good to have someone else catch my jokes. Greg rarely did.”
“I know. And yes, Emma’s nothing like you. I would never change restaurants on you, Your Majesty. Or bring along another friend last minute. Trust me, I know you better than that.”
There was a compliment in there—or perhaps an insult. But whatever the case, his words made me smile.
“Good,” I said. “Not that we’d ever go out.”
“The lady doth protest too much!” he tsked. I wanted to protest that comment but bit my tongue. Wyatt continued, “As for Emma and me, well... the timing was never right.”
“Could it be now?” I asked.
“No, like I said, she has a boyfriend. Hugo Knight or Knightley, I forget his name. Also, she’s not really my type.” This threw me.
“You have a type? I don’t remember you ever bringing a girlfriend to anything.”
“I’ve had girlfriends.” Wyatt sounded a bit defensive.
“Obviously, I just never met them.” Maybe because you go through women like I go through Diet Coke, I thought to myself. “I can’t even guess what your type would be.”
“I’m not that fussy.”
“Give me something. Tall or short. Thoughtful or giggly.”
He went quiet for a moment, possibly concentrating on traffic. Spying a parking spot on the side of the road, he pulled over and took it. Wyatt Knox had impressive parallel parking skills. He put the car in park. “Strong,” he said. “I like strong women. And driven. That’s my type.”
He climbed out of the pick up and shut his door. I was too stunned to move. I like strong women. And driven. That almost sounded like me. But no... he couldn’t mean that, could he? Wyatt was too big a player to have a type. He was just messing with me.
He opened my door. “You coming?”
I nodded, still in a daze. “Need a hand?” he asked. “It’s kind of a big drop.”
He was not wrong; his pick up was higher off the ground than your normal truck. But right then, it felt essential to disembark on my own. I leapt out and, despite wearing four-inch heels, stuck the landing.
“Well done,” he said softly. Those two words echoed through my mind like the applause of a crowd.
Inside, we found a table and ordered drinks.
We’d just begun the debate about what pizza to order when Emma floated in.
Everything about her was effortless. Her clothes, her walk, her laugh.
Before Wyatt even had a chance to tell her who I was, she greeted me as if we were old friends.
Wrapping me in a luxuriously scented hug.
“Love your dress,” she said in a low and husky voice that made my “Thank you” sound like Minnie Mouse.
“I have another one by the same designer, but I like yours better.” She had the weird artistic beauty of a supermodel—tall and lithe and pretty in an ethereal way.
Next to her, I felt basic, boring, and short.
If I had met her at thirteen, I would have had the hugest girl crush on Emma and imitated her in every way.
But at thirty, I had a better understanding of my own limitations.
I could never look or sound like her. So I was left hating her.
This was the woman Sally Scott deemed acceptable for her son.
It was evident that she was so confident in her superiority that she would never have dreamed of being jealous of me.
I watched closely as she hugged and kissed Wyatt (on the cheek).
With him, she seemed a little less sure of herself.
Boyfriend or not, Mo was right; she still carried a torch for him—or at the very least, was curious about him in a romantic way.
Wyatt laughed freely and easily at something Emma said.
With his shaggy hair and not-quite beard, I could see the appeal for those who liked bad boys. Which, to be clear, I did not.
She sat down by him in the booth, so close that their sides were touching. Again, I wondered what her boyfriend would think. Wyatt recounted to her how my date showed up drunk.
“I bet he was married,” she calmly replied. “Did he have a ring tan-line?”
“I didn’t look,” I answered, a little shocked. Because the thought hadn’t crossed my mind, but now that she mentioned it, I thought she was probably right.
“That happened to a friend of mine. She dated this guy for six months. Six months! And she never suspected. But I always thought he was dodgy. He never met her friends, and he often showed up drunk to their dates. Apparently, he had to numb his conscience.”
“That’s horrible!” I looked at Wyatt for confirmation. His expression matched mine. Emma continued, blasé. “That was the end of online dating for her.”
“I should do the same,” I said.
“Why don’t you date Wyatt here?” she asked coolly. Emma wasn’t above fishing either.
I hoped Wyatt would explain that we were barely friends. But he just gave me an expectant smile, effectively passing the question to me.
“No . . . nope, no way! Wyatt and I . . . no . . . it’s nothing personal. But he’s Greg’s cousin.”
Emma looked between us, even more confused.
“Caroline was engaged to Greg,” Wyatt answered flatly.
“No way!” The unflappable Emma was flapped. “That was you!”
“Yep, jilted bride, here.” I gave a little wave.
“And you’re friends with Wyatt?” she asked with disbelief.
“Frenemies would be more accurate,” I began. “Most of the time, we can’t stand each other, but tonight he rescued me from my date. So I’m tolerating his company.”
“That’s Wyatt, always saving the damsel in distress.” She gave him a dazzling smile. “He’s the best.” She turned to me. “Don’t you agree?”
His eyes snagged mine. He raised his brows, highly amused.
“Not sure I’d say the best ...” I began. Perhaps I should have done the socially acceptable thing and agreed. But I was a terrible liar. Plus, I never skipped a chance to get a rise out of Wyatt.
“Caroline has a grudge against me,” he explained.
“Really? Do tell,” Emma said with enthusiasm.
“Um... I’m not sure how much Caroline wants me to share.” Wyatt hedged.
None of it. But it was too late.
“Wyatt told Greg to break up with me,” I admitted.
Emma turned on him. “You did not?” He grimaced. “Wyatt! That’s terrible. Why would you do that?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Um... because...” Both Emma and I stared at him.
He swallowed, then took a deep breath before answering.
“I knew Greg was unfaithful. He cheated on Caroline the week of the wedding.” He looked so sorry.
Well, he should be. And then added, “You deserved better.” His eloquent brown eyes held mine for a moment, and I found myself blinking back tears.