Chapter 2 #2
The thought of hiring someone à la rom-com trope had admittedly entered her mind on more than one occasion.
But with her luck, she wouldn’t have Dermot Mulroney sweep her off her feet but probably someone who’d steal her passport to sell on the black market and leave her stranded in Mexico.
The prospect was grim. And she honestly had no qualms over showing up solo to Piper’s wedding, but she knew doing so would incite a bridezilla meltdown, and no one needed that.
“I am the bride, and if I want to call you my MOH, I will call you my MOH,” Piper said as if to reinforce Emmy’s thoughts.
“But also—”
Emmy was halfway through an eye roll when the tone of her sister’s voice stopped her. A secret hid inside it, she heard it
tittering on the edge of Piper’s quick breath. “Also what?” she asked, fearing the answer.
Piper grimaced in her reflection. She bunched her ballooning skirt in her hands and held it like a security blanket. “Jacob
is on the guest list.” She flinched like Emmy might leap up and attack her.
Emmy’s hearing had gone offline, and she wondered if she might have been losing her mind, because no way— no way —did her sister just tell her that her ex-boyfriend was coming to her wedding. “ What? ”
Piper held up her hands, still facing the mirror with her back to Emmy. “I know. I’m sorry. But he’s Ben’s cousin’s plus one.
They started dating recently, and she RSVP’d with him as her guest. Believe me I lost it when I saw it, Em. I will uninvite them if you want me to, but that won’t be a great foot to start out on with my
in-laws... I mean, you know if it was someone on our side, she’d be dead to me and scratched off the list.”
Emmy was still reeling. She hadn’t seen or talked to Jacob in over a year. Not since he’d told her she was too obsessed with
her career, and if she wanted a future with him, she’d have to give it up.
Literally. He’d said me or your job in a moment that felt so misogynistically surreal Emmy sometimes still wondered if it had really happened.
If maybe she’d wake from some bizarre fever dream to find the guy she’d fallen for was not in fact a controlling jerk but rather the supportive partner she’d thought she’d known.
Alas, Jacob had said those words to her, me or your job , among other mean things about how she’d die alone if she married her career, and Emmy had chosen her job. And, consequently,
had given up on dating.
She hadn’t regretted her decisions—to ditch him and not date—for one second. Until right now. Suddenly the thought of running
into him with his new girlfriend had her veins tight with anxiety. He couldn’t see her alone and dateless because then he’d
think he was right about her, and she would not give him the satisfaction. Not to mention, she still battled the teeny tiny
voice in her head that crept out of the dark in her low moments and tried to convince her he was right. She could hear it growing louder as she thought about showing up to a wedding of all things—the epitome of romantic
commitment—by herself. She didn’t think she would care so much until the situation was right in front of her.
Emmy gave her sister a steely glare in the mirror. “Are you specifically telling me this while you’re standing there in a
five-thousand-dollar dress so I don’t murder you?”
“Maybe?” Piper’s voice came out a squeak. “Seriously though, I will take one for the team and uninvite them if you want me
to.”
Yes, please fizzled around Emmy’s mind like an angry firecracker, but she couldn’t put her sister in the position of offending her new
family. She could be the bigger person. She could handle seeing her ex. She could... find a date.
“No, you don’t have to do that,” she said warily. “But thank you for offering.”
Piper sagged with visible relief. She waved her hands. “Don’t worry. When you show up with someone else, he’ll see you’ve
moved on, and everything will be fine.”
“Also!” Their mother took the opportunity to chime in. “If you find a date, that could be a step toward starting something serious, Emmy. You know you’re—”
“If you’re about to remind me how old I am, I’m going to stop you right there, Mom.”
Vera paused with her mouth open and then sighed. “That’s not what I was going to say. You are still so young, Emmy. What I
was going to say is maybe this is a good opportunity to spend some time away from work and getting to know someone.”
“So in a year from now, we’re planning my wedding, and you don’t have a spinster daughter on your hands anymore?” Emmy said with a frown.
“Emmy, stop it. I just think you put an awful lot of energy into your career, and maybe if—”
“I like my career. Speaking of—” She waved her phone at them in a signal she needed to check her email, a routine they were
well accustomed to. She wasn’t really going to check it; she just didn’t want to talk about her lack of a love life anymore.
She thumbed at her screen, and it took all her strength not to open Instagram and search for Jacob’s new girlfriend. She did
not care enough to look.
Her eyes landed on her texting thread with Axe Murderer and a smile bent her lips. Emmy glanced up at her mother and sister
to see they’d fallen into a critical discussion of what fresh flowers would be pinned into Piper’s hair and decided they did
not need her input.
She wasn’t sure what she expected to get in return, if anything, but before she could stop herself, she tapped out a message
to Axe Murderer.
So, you still haven’t told me what you did to get fake numbered.
She hit send and bit her lip, surprised at the hope blooming in her chest that she’d get a response.
A quiet gasp slipped between her lips when the typing dots almost instantly appeared.
Her heart nervously trilled at the thought of what he was going to say.
Maybe he’d tell her to go away. Maybe he’d make another bird-band pun.
Maybe he’d ask who she was because he’d deleted her number after their mistaken exchange and had already moved on.
She stilled in anticipation when his message appeared.
Honestly, I’m not the best at connecting with people. I obviously misread the situation.
It was not the answer she expected. She blinked a few times at his surprisingly vulnerable response. The fact he’d been so
open rather than passing her question off with a joke softened something already well on its way to melting in her chest.
Well, your faux pas worked in my interest because now you’re connected to me. ?
Happy to be here. It was also the first time I’d gone out in ages.
Oh? Why so?
Mostly super busy with work.
She quietly snorted to herself. A kindred spirit.
Relatable.
What do you do for work?
She hesitated because the reaction she got from men was reliably one of two things: intimidation or an uninvited download of mansplained baseball stats and facts because they automatically assumed they knew more than she did.
Both options reliably killed the conversation because they either backed away in fear or she wiped the floor with them with knowledge.
She couldn’t say why, but she wasn’t ready to lose Axe Murderer for any reason, and especially not over her job, so she decided
to be vague.
I’m a data analyst downtown.
It was the truth. The ballpark sat squarely among the skyscrapers and a stone’s throw from the waterfront. A downtown office
could have meant any number of things. Maybe she worked in pharma or at a bank or at one of the zillion microbreweries dotting
San Diego like constellations. He didn’t need to know she was an analyst for the Tide.
Who takes care of your chihuahuas while you’re away?
She frowned at the message, not following, until she remembered she’d joked about being an old lady with three dogs and a
parrot.
Cawly Rae, of course.
Ah, a singer and a dog sitter. Truly a jackdaw of all trades.
A small chuckle snuck from Emmy’s lips.
I would ask what you do for work, but I’m pretty sure you’re an ornithologist with all these bird-band puns.
Speaking of. *Clears throat* Motley Crow, New Kids on the Flock, Bawk the Moon.
A full laugh burst out of her mouth.
Why are you so good at this?
I may have been preparing.
Oh, so there’s a list?
Perhaps.
Does that mean you were expecting this conversation to continue?
I hoped it would. ?
The little smiley face drew a mirroring one from her in real life. The warm, soft thing in her chest fully spilled open.
Me too.