Chapter 9
Emma Jane
Ifelt the way my smile twisted to a snarl.
My composed facade faltered for only a moment before I remembered I should be happy about this.
Granted, I didn’t take Knightley to be the kind of man that takes a woman back to his place on the first date, but I guess you never truly know someone.
Even if they’ve been by your side since you’ve existed on this earth.
The unanswerable question remains: why am I not happy about this when it’s what I wanted for him and my business? Why did I let my smile slip into a snarl? Why does this scene in front of me cut me like a serrated knife?
“Emma Jane, hey.” His voice is higher than usual and panic is written across his face. “What are you doing here this late? Is everything okay with Henry?”
Nice going, dude. Use my father as the reason a woman is on your doorstep in the middle of the night when you’re trying to bring another woman home.
I can do one of two things here.
I can continue to say something about my father to help him out, or…
“Nothing like that. Papa’s fine. I left my favorite jacket over here the other day after our movie night. Thought I’d swing by to pick it up.”
I’m not happy about the immature direction I chose to go, but one look in Mallory’s direction tells me she couldn’t care less.
She’s amused. Her arms hang by her curves, which are showing nicely in a killer black dress (I want to ask her where she got it from), and the corner of her lip ticks up as if she’s fighting a smile.
“Emma Jane Williams? It’s nice to finally meet you!” Mallory steps in front of Knightley, who still hasn’t gained his composure. His flustered state reminds me that I at least need to get my act together and not ruin this for him.
I reach out my hand, and she meets me halfway. “Yes! So sorry I’m imposing on your night. I had no idea he would be bringing you back here, and I was anxiously waiting to hear how the date went since you two are beta testing my program.”
Mallory and Knightley exchange looks, and everything I need to know about the two of them cements in my brain.
And I don’t know if I’m thrilled or disappointed.
Thrilled. Definitely over the moon excited that they just looked at each other in that secret couple-y way Stone and Lucy looked at each other in front of me.
Before I can change my mind and let this weird disappointment win out, I say, “I can see the two of you are doing just fine, so I’m going to go now. Enjoy the rest of your night.”
I wave then walk to my car, careful not to move to the pace of my heart beating out of my chest. I take caution not to slam my door closed and not to drive aggressively out of the drive, but once I’m out of sight, for some unholy reason, I scream.
I yell, hit the steering wheel, and wonder why in the world I’m having such a visceral, untamed reaction to Knightley taking a woman home.
It’s what I wanted!
Literally.
I matched them! I found her through social media and, after having a few pleasant conversations, determined she would be a fantastic fit for him.
Maybe it’s just the shattered illusion of thinking Knightley was a decent man who fully committed to a woman before bringing her to bed.
But who knows if that’s what he was doing, Emma Jane?
My brain is a battleground; which version of my Knightley will win out?
My.
In an instant, my anger melts away. My screams become hysterical laughs, and now, instead of beating the steering wheel, I rub it as if I’m apologizing for treating it as a punching bag.
“Wow, miss ma’am. No wonder you got upset.” I laugh more to myself, a tear running down my cheek. My Knightley. Somewhere along the way of being shoved together often, I think he became one of my best friends. He became someone I trust and respect even if we go for each others’ throats often.
As much as he has criticized me, he’s never been wrong. That’s a thought I’ll have to sit with.
So, if he marries another woman, I’ll lose my close friendship with him. He will no longer be mine. I’ll have to let him go.
But I don’t know if I’m ready for that.
With a relieved sigh at realizing the cause for my reaction was the idea of losing my friend instead of jealousy over Mallory and Knightley—though I still can’t believe he took her home after the first date—I wipe the tears from my eyes and focus on making it back to Hartfield in one piece.
Once I’m home, I take a thirty-minute shower from hell, relishing in the hot water as it numbs the tension in my body. Any lingering thoughts of Knightley and Mallory swirl down the drain as I get out, do my nighttime skincare routine, and then climb into my comfortable bed.
As I lay in bed attempting to get comfortable, a text dings on my phone.
I have all notifications silenced at this time at night.
All except his.
Squire: It’s not what you think. The date did go well, but not that well.
Bubbling laughter escapes through my lips. Oh, thank God! Not that it’s any of my business, but I’m glad to know he isn’t the kind of man to sleep with a woman on the first date.
Me: No judgment here. Glad it went well.
There was immense judgment on my end. Lots of it. But he doesn’t need to know that.
He immediately begins typing.
Squire: Thank you for tonight.
Me: Are you broken? I was eighty-five percent worried you’d bail on the date, and now you’re thanking me?
Squire: I thought about bailing. But I’m glad I didn’t. It was… nice.
I type.
Delete.
Type again.
Delete.
With a heavy sigh and new tension built up in my shoulders, I place my phone on the charger and roll face-first into my pillow. He had a nice night with Mallory. That’s wonderful. It’s—as I’ve reminded myself a million times—what I wanted.
So why does it feel like someone is taking a puzzle piece from my life and refusing to give it back, leaving me incomplete for all eternity?
Iawake from fitful sleep at four in the morning to tears running down my face and a Snapchat from Halle.
What is she doing up this early?
She sends a black screen, so I ask her if she wants to video call.
The dream comes back to me in full force, though to be honest, it never left.
Knightley standing at the altar of Hartfield Presbyterian Church.
Mallory walking down the aisle in a beautiful and expensive white gown that I’d kill for.
The congregation applauding, Papa blubbering, and this time, instead of trying to lift his spirits, I’m blubbering right alongside Papa.
My phone rings, and moments later, Halle’s tired face and messy blonde hair fills the screen.
“Have you been crying?” We both say that at the same time, which causes us both to laugh until the sound turns to cries.
After a stuffy sniffle, Halle says, “You go first.”
“I set Knightley up on a date, and he—” I pause for a second, wondering if I should tell Halle.
She knows him well, and I don't want her viewing him in an unfavorable light. But then again, Halle is my person, and she’s always been there for me.
“He took the woman home. I was waiting on his porch to ask him how the date went, and when he pulled up, she got out of his truck.”
Halle is silent for a moment, on the soft sounds of her continual sniffling. “Tell me, Emma Jane, why does this bother you exactly?”
“Because I’m going to lose him. He’s my friend, Halle.”
“Why do you say you’ll lose him?”
I think for a moment, tucking a strand of loose hair behind my ear, before answering.
“Because we won’t get to do game nights together, or watch movies together at his house, or just go on walks together.
If he has a woman, then I can’t be with him privately like that for the sake of boundaries.
He won’t tell me I’m moronic for pursuing a new business venture, and I won’t get to sass him back and tell him he’s wrong, only for me to prove him right down the line.
I’m not a kid like I was when he married Cami.
It’s not the same now. If he commits to Mallory, then I have to step down.
” Something is definitely different. I’ve been denying that for a while, but things have shifted between us.
“While I am immensely proud of your insight and wisdom in this manner, I am so sorry you’re hurting, E.
J.” Halle’s brown eyes shine with sympathy.
We sit in silence for a minute before she speaks again.
“Are you upset that you will lose the closeness of your friendship? Or, be honest here, do you wish you were Mallory?”
“Oh, definitely the first." I wave my hand dismissively. “You know I’m never getting married. You know I can’t do that to a man.” She’s the only one who knows, apart from my doctor and Henrietta.
Halle has always been a mother figure to me; she’s the one who took me to all the appointments to figure out why my periods weren’t consistent.
It all came to a head when I was fifteen and swore my appendix was rapturing.
No, it was giant cysts on my ovaries.
“Knightley isn’t just any man, though. He’s… Knightley.”
“Exactly. He’s Knightley. Thirteen years older than me.
Widowed. The mayor of a whole town. I’m like his little sister.
” Except for when he flirts with me. Then I feel like I might be something more, but I shove that thought way down into the depths.
It’s harmless teasing, nothing more. Even if it feels new and exciting.
“You’re twenty-three, know him better than any other woman out there besides maybe his own mother, are launching your own business, and are more mature than most women I know.
You’ve had to be, E. J.” Her tone gives way to the usual you-lost-your-mom-as-a-baby-and-had-to-raise-yourself inflection.
I never understood why people took that voice with me but never did with Henrietta.
She lost both of her parents for heaven’s sake.
Yet, the town doesn’t coddle her like they do me.
I can’t help the laugh that bubbles out. If only she could have seen me in the car last night…
Yeah, reeeeal mature.
“Are you trying to get me to date Knightley? Because if so, I need you to redirect your thoughts. Let me do the matchmaking, Halle. You just enjoy your marital bliss.”
She grins at me. “Someone has to look out for you while you look out for everyone else in your life. Be honest with yourself, Emma Jane.”
I sigh, accidentally dropping the phone.
I pick it back up and stare into her brown eyes, setting my jaw.
“Fine. He’s wonderfully challenging and smart and handsome, and I think I may be into him.
But I can’t do anything about it, Halle.
I just matched him with a woman who can be everything I can't be for him.”
“That is a predicament for you. Especially if he liked her. But what if he didn’t?”
I scoff. “He took her home. Of course he liked her.”
“You don’t know why they went back to his place. It could be completely innocent.”
“He said it was, but still. He took her to his place. What am I supposed to do? Tell him I like his stupid face? Tell him that over the past two years, I’ve slowly begun to see him in a different light until it slapped me across the face last night?
Tell him that I love it when he fights with me and puts me in my place and brings me strawberry chocolates when I’m on my period?
Tell him I love the way he protects other people and love the way he stays true to his faith through this campaign even though he’s being attacked left and right? ”
Halle can’t seem to erase the smile off her face. “That’s exactly what you do, Emma Jane. You lay your cards on the table.”
I’ve never been the one to lay my cards down. I hold them tight to my chest, waiting for other players to make their moves before I show my hand. Life’s a huge game, and I don’t like to lose. But I don’t cheat to win.
Redirecting this uncomfortable conversation, I ask, “Why were you crying?”
Her smile falters. “Well, E. J., I haven’t told anyone yet, so let’s keep this between me and you.” She chews on her bottom lip, her eyes falling down to look at something outside of my frame. Then, she holds up a stick that kind of looks like a thermometer. “I’m pregnant.”
Immediately, calculations begin inside my head as I spout out congratulations. “But you guys haven’t even been married for a whole month.” I blurt the words without even thinking of the implications.
Halle’s cheek pinken. “Grant and I may have slipped up before our wedding night.” She pegs me with a sharp gaze. “But you better not. Wait until you say the vows to each other and to God. It’s hard to wait, but it’s better to be obedient to the Lord.”
“Not getting married,” I remind her, then we both release tired laughs. “But I am very happy for the two of you, regardless of how the baby came to be.”
“Thank you, Emma Jane. I’m excited, too, but I’ll have to tell Grant in the morning, and I’m kind of nervous. I’m forty. This isn’t normal. What if everything goes wrong?” She doesn’t have to say like with your mother.
I reach toward the screen, wishing I could give her a huge hug. “But what if everything goes right?”
Halle smiles, and it meets her eyes. “You’re right.”
We chat for a little longer, pray over her pregnancy, and then hang up.
Huh. She couldn’t wait until her wedding night? What does that feel like? Is sex that good?
I’ve only kissed a couple of guys, and well, let’s just say they were chaste and never happened again. I stopped dating after the second one during my sophomore year in college. Dating felt pointless. I don’t think I’ve ever had the desire to go further than those awful kisses.
Maybe it’s the PCOS. Another reason I shouldn’t get married—no sex drive.
I let out a frustrated groan into my pillow before sitting up in bed.
Why did Halle have to go there? Why did she have to make me realize I’ve been entertaining the idea of more with Knightley without even knowing it? It can never happen, so I have to bury these pesky feelings.
Knowing there is no way I am going to go back to sleep, I get up, run downstairs for coffee, and then return to my room to work on my current puzzle while I piece together my thoughts surrounding the unattainable Knightley George Austen.
I’ve never had a crush before.
Zero-out-of-ten recommend.