8. Emma
Emma
This is madness.
The last time I had really talked to Carson Price before he decided I was his conquest of the night in the Burlington bar, we were teenagers in the school editorial room.
I’d been putting the finishing touches on my article for the last paper of my junior year, and he came in with a few friends to get their pictures taken for the yearbook superlatives page.
Bennett Walker had laughed at something he said, and Carson shoved him away playfully before approaching me to ask if I knew where Nicole was. She was going to take their pictures for most likely to live happily ever after and most charming.
Guess which of the two Carson won? Yeah, Mr. Charming has always been a ladies’ man.
It was no surprise to learn later that he got married the second he graduated from his undergrad, taking a wife to dental school and becoming a dad not too long after.
Apparently, he’s one of the good, reliable, monogamous guys.
As for knowing where our photographer was? I didn’t. The guys left to find her, and Carson never looked back.
Our lives were intertwined for the three years of high school we shared, and he never even noticed me.
Yeah, I hadn’t figured out how to manage the frizz of my red hair, my braces were particularly metallic up until senior year, and my glasses were thick, dark, and gave me owl eyes. But more than anything, I often chose reading over going to parties. I was that cool.
Now, my love of reading pays the mortgage, I spent the evening dancing with everyone from the library at Demi’s wedding reception—including a slow song with Seth that wasn’t horrible—and I’m throwing on the ugliest painting shirt I have over old leggings and thick socks to spend the rest of my night with one of the most popular guys from high school.
How is this my life? Having a date and then hanging out with Mr. Charming himself all in one evening?
We must have stepped into a Tim Burton version of Autumn Ridge where nothing is as it seems, pumpkins cover most doorsteps, and everything is still bright and crisp instead of monochromatic.
All of that aside, I’m not fooling myself.
This thing with Carson is nestled firmly in the friend zone.
Aside from that first night, there will be no adding of benefits to our situation.
Carson didn’t have wholesome intentions where I was concerned.
He was probably lonely last week, wanted to feel less lonely for a little while, and didn’t think he’d ever see me again.
Besides, I’m focusing on other men right now.
Seth was a good date at the wedding—better than I’d expected. We stayed in a group most of the day, hanging out with the other librarians, but he was attentive and polite.
As to whether he’s helping me lose this ridiculous schoolgirl crush, that’s still pending.
Most of the sunlight is gone when I leave my house to cross the road and pour salt all over my wound titled lack of girlfriend material.
What am I even doing?
No, I know. I’m here for Sharon and Penny and to be a good neighbor.
Carson answers the door when I ring the bell, wearing an easy smile. His blond hair looks dark in the fading light, but his eyes are still bright. “You don’t walk in when you’ve actually been invited?”
“Very funny.” I paste a smile on my face and move past him into the house, carrying the loaf of bread I’d baked earlier. “What time will Sharon be home?”
“Probably around nine or ten.”
“Okay, we have a few hours, then.” I set the bread on the counter. Sharon will know who it’s from. Carson eyes the loaf, but I start toward the hall, eager to prove I’m not trying to get cozy with him. I’m serious about the friend thing, just like he is. “Let’s get to work.”
Carson follows me toward Maven’s old room.
All the furniture is pushed away from the walls and the baseboards are taped.
Drop cloths line the carpet, and less than half of the room is painted a pretty pale pink.
Penny crouches over a pan, rolling her tiny roller through the paint.
When she notices me, she sends me a toothy grin.
“When we’re done, can you braid my hair? ”
My eyes shoot to Carson. I don’t want to step over the line at all, so I wait for him to give me some sign that it’s okay.
I don’t know anything about his ex-wife except that they started their life together pretty young.
Back in high school, when I had a minor crush on him, I didn’t think this is where we’d end up a decade later.
I didn’t think he’d ever notice me.
He gives me the slightest nod known to humanity.
“Sure, Penny,” I say, adjusting my glasses. “Only if we finish early, though. I don’t want to cut into your bedtime routine.”
“Yay!” She jumps up, dropping pink paint on her feet and the drop cloth. “I want to wear braids to school.”
“Let’s get to work then.”
“Aren’t you going to make my Band-Aids pretty?”
“Yes. If your dad’s okay with it.”
“I don’t mind being the only one getting any work done,” he teases, pulling his roller from the paint and getting to work on the second wall.
“We’ll be quick about it,” I tell Penny in a loud whisper, pulling colored sharpies from my bag. I sit cross-legged on the floor and she gets down beside me, holding out her arm. “Tell me if it hurts so I can move to a different spot.”
Penny nods, and I begin drawing. Butterflies and flowers and hearts soon cover the large rectangular bandage on her scrape. She can’t see my handiwork because of the angle, so I ask her to tell me about school to distract her.
“I start on Monday. My old school was nice and Mrs. Vest was the best teacher I’ve ever had, so I don’t think I’m going to like it here very much, but my dad told me to be positive about it or it won’t be easy to make new friends.
But I already have good friends. My best friends Kailey and Sarah are still in Tennessee, but we video talk every day, so they’ll always be my best friends. ”
“I bet you miss them.”
She sighs. Carson keeps painting, but I can feel him watching our interaction.
When I move on to the bandage on her leg, Penny looks at her elbow and gasps. “I love it. Can you braid my hair now?”
This girl is relentless. “Not until the painting is finished.”
“But I’m hungry.” She gets to her feet as soon as I’m finished. “Dad! I’m hungry.”
“We already had dinner.”
“I just want cereal.”
He inhales. “Fine.”
Penny runs out of the room, her tangled blonde hair trailing behind her. It’s long and golden, a pretty natural hue that has likely been lightened by the sun.
I gather the pens and drop them in my bag before I hear the fridge open down the hall.
This house is compact, with three bedrooms and a bathroom off the way from the kitchen and living room.
The room across the hall is probably Carson’s, the door is cracked open.
Teenage Emma would’ve died to be hanging out with Carson Price, close enough to peek in his room.
Teenage Emma wouldn’t believe me if I told her any of the stuff that went down at the bar last week, or the fact that Carson keeps sneaking looks at me.
What is he thinking about? I’d give at least a shelf full of paperbacks to know. Anything but the special edition painted-edges UK versions of the Once Upon a Broken Heart trilogy I special ordered from Blackwell’s online. Those aren’t up for grabs.
Carson rolls the bulk of the walls, so I take a brush and start cutting in the edges while the paint is still wet.
I would’ve recommended he did this the other way around and painted the borders first, but I’m not here to criticize.
Silence stretches between us, but every time I glance at him, he’s looking at me.
“Which teacher did Penny get?” I turn my focus to getting a sharp line.
“Mrs. Bloom.”
I pause, looking over my shoulder at him. “That’s who I had.”
“No way. She’s been teaching that long?”
“I think she’s pretty close to retiring. Penny couldn’t have gotten a better teacher.”
“Mrs. Vest was pretty great, too.”
There’s a note of something in his voice I can’t identify. My hand pauses. “You didn’t ruin her life by taking her away from those friends and that teacher. Kids are resilient.”
“How do you know?” he asks softly.
I lower my brush. As a youth services librarian, I’ve had plenty of training in child development, but that doesn’t make me an expert.
This man has been a dad for nine years, and I only know the things I’ve read in textbooks and what I’ve gleaned from working with kids for the last five years.
I do believe every word I say, but I have a feeling citing studies or professionals isn’t what Carson needs to hear right now. “How old were you when you moved here?”
“Not much older than Penny.”
“Did it ruin your life?”
He quirks a smile. “The opposite, in fact.”
His scruff is well-trimmed, his hair a bit of a mess, and he looks tired.
I want to run my hands through his hair and fix it, but he’s out of reach.
His unkempt look is natural and down to earth.
I need to focus on the matter at hand. “That’s proof enough, right?
Besides, I can’t help but think she’ll be better off around Sharon than without her. ”
“We agree on that.” He goes back to rolling the wall.
“My mom is amazing. But Pen’s missing out on regularly seeing her mom.
I wish I could change it, but you can’t force anyone to want a relationship with their child.
” His bitterness is telling. I don’t know if it’s geared at his ex or something else, but the level of vitriol in his words is real.
“I don’t think it’d be much different if we’d stayed in Tennessee, though. Jen moved to Nashville a year ago.”
“Were you far from the city?”
“Just over an hour, so it wasn’t terrible, but even if we stayed, she wouldn’t be taking Penny every other weekend or anything like that.” He moves faster, his irritation bleeding into his actions. “I got full custody too easily.”
“That really sucks.”