thirty-nine | emberly
THIRTY-NINEEmberly
I’ve been in embarrassing situations before.
But this … this is worse.
My hair clip is falling out. My lips feel tingly, the same way they did when Whitney convinced me to try a new plumping serum. I’m also sure that my cheeks match the color of my hair.
This isn’t the way I imagined meeting Will’s sister for the first time.
Let me just start out by saying that Brighton Hartley is gorgeous.
Gorgeous gorgeous. Tall and ballerina-slim, with glossy, sable brown hair and violet-blue eyes.
She has Will’s smile and Iris’s cheekbones, but her features are more classical than cute.
Her chic traveling dress isn’t covered in flour, either.
“I thought your plane wasn’t coming in until tomorrow night.” Will pulls Brighton into an embrace and I take advantage of the extra ten seconds to stuff my hair back into the clip.
“I got permission to fly home before the rest of the group. I thought I’d surprise you.” Her eyes sparkle. “Mission accomplished.”
“Bright,” Will growls.
Her brows lift and I realize this is a Hartley family trait. “What? You looked surprised, that’s all I’m saying. Reeve picked me up at the airport so I wouldn’t have to rent a car. Now, where’s Iris so I can surprise her, too?”
“She’s staying at Eden’s tonight.”
“That explains why you’re … baking a cake.”
He gives her a warning look and she shrugs.
“I’m just repeating what you told me.”
I find myself smiling. There’s an undercurrent of affection in the teasing that tells me Will and his sister are close. And now I’m feeling in the way.
“Ah … I’m sure you two have a lot to talk about, so I’ll clean up and finish frosting the cake at home … I mean, Firefly. Because that’s where I’m staying.”
My rambling is a delayed response to Will’s kiss. He has a lot of skills, so I’m not surprised this is one of them. My knees buckle a little just thinking about it. Will didn’t rush things. He kissed me like he wanted to savor the moment, giving more than he took.
Some guys use their strength to dominate. Will drew me in, made me feel safe.
And now I want to kiss him again.
“It looks like an amazing cake.” Brighton runs her finger along the lip of the empty mixing bowl and pops it into her mouth. Her eyes widen. “The frosting is delicious.”
“I’ll be sure to tell Hazel.”
“Her cook,” Will interjects.
He and Brighton exchange a look that I can’t quite interpret. I can, however, figure out why Will is tossing baking utensils into the basket with the speed of a blackjack dealer.
He’s in a hurry to get rid of me.
“I think the jet lag is kicking in.” Brighton tries to stifle a yawn. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Emberly.”
“It was, um, nice, meeting you.”
She grins again because she knows I’m being polite. Getting caught in a clinch with someone’s big brother is not the kind of first impression you want to make.
“I’ll carry the cake over,” Will offers.
He still won’t make eye contact. I want to think it’s because he’s still shocked by Brighton’s arrival and not because he regrets kissing me.
Because I don’t. The only thing I regret is that we waited this long.
“Hey, Juni! I’m home!” I hear Brighton croon as we leave. “Wake up and say hello, sleepyhead.”
Will is silent as we walk back to Firefly.
I bump the door open with my hip and he follows me inside.
Say. Something.
I’m talking to myself, but Will is the one who breaks the silence.
“Thank you.”
How am I supposed to respond? You’re welcome?
Then I realize he’s talking about the cake, not the kiss.
“It was fun.” I’m talking about the cake, too. The kiss was … amazing.
Will’s gaze drops to my lips and I wonder—hope—he’s thinking the same thing.
“I …” He pauses. “Should probably help Brighton carry in the rest of her things.”
“Yes. You should.”
He reaches out and his thumb traces the curve of my jaw.
“Good night, Em.”
“Good night.”
After he leaves, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the antique mirror above the sofa.
My hair looks like it got tangled in the mixer. There’s a white smudge on my nose and my jaw (the one I realize now that Will had tried to remove). There’s also the outline of a large hand stenciled in flour on my hip.
The moment after he leaves, I send a message to the Sixteens.
SOS! Need advice!
I change into comfy clothes—linen pants and Will’s flannel shirt—and put the finishing touches on the cake. It’s beautiful and I send a photo to Hazel. Check my messages again.
Then I realize my friends on the East Coast are in a different time zone and probably asleep by now.
I, on the other hand, am wide awake, trying my best not to think about the kiss. What it meant. What it didn’t. If it changes anything between us.
Because it changed me.
I no longer have to wonder if I’m falling in love with Will.
My cell chirps and I reach for it like a lifeline. It isn’t one of the Sixteens, though, it’s Hazel.
Hazel: Beautiful.
I smile. Succinct as usual. Why write a paragraph when one word will do?
Me: Thank you! I hope Iris likes it.
Hazel: Your grandmother is worried about you.
I was afraid of that. Nona’s expression when she saw Will was a blend of shock and suspicion.
Me: I’m fine!
Hazel: If you don’t come home soon, she’s going to hire an extraction team.
No laughing emoji punctuates the sentence because Hazel isn’t joking.
What if I told her that it feels like I am home? That I found my place and my people?
What if the fairytale I’ve been waiting for doesn’t include a prince at all?
What if the hero is an ordinary man? His castle, a cabin in the woods?
What if instead of slaying dragons, he’s battled grief and come out on the other side with his faith intact and a quiet strength that appreciates all the good things he still has?
But of course, I don’t tell Hazel any of this.
Not because it isn’t true. Because even after the kiss, I’m not sure Will feels the same way about me.