Chapter Nine #3
He set the knife he was chopping vegetables with on the counter and pulled me into his arms. “I liked today.”
I rested my cheek on his chest. “Me too.”
“Oh, by the way, your cell, uh, rang while you were in the shower. Some eighties hardcore rocker song.”
“I don’t think Joan Jett qualifies as hardcore. Well, maybe in Bad Reputation she does.”
“Okay, now, you have to tell me who it was.”
“Guess.”
The smile left his face.
“Come on, guess. It isn’t that hard to figure out.”
“Luke,” he said in a clipped voice.
“Luke? Where did that come from, and no—Brenna.”
I called her while he finished cooking, wondering if he was joking or serious when he’d guessed Luke. She picked up on the second ring. Atticus was in the background, asking if that was me.
“Tell him yes and that I’m fine.”
“She’s fine,” Brenna said. “Okay, he left. Fill me in.”
I tucked my feet under me on the bed. “I met with my team today. Darla’s holding everything together as usual. Naomi tried to steal her.”
“Darla would never.”
“That’s essentially what happened.”
“How’s the Morrison cover? Any issues?”
“Not that I’m aware of. Then again, I’ve been a little preoccupied lately.” That word reminded me of what Coleman had said about the wedding. “Anyway, what’s happening with you?”
“As far as the investigation goes, not much. Now that you’re here, I expect that will change.” She paused. “Okay, that’s the work part. How are you?”
“I’m good, Bren.” I told her about meeting my mom at the townhouse today and how we told her Coleman was my boyfriend.
“Coleman, huh?”
“That’s the part you picked up on? Not that we lied to my mom?”
“Because I know you weren’t lying. So, tell me, what did Sherry think of him?”
“She was too busy figuring how to spend my last penny remodeling my townhouse to form an opinion.”
“Sounds like her. So, he’s your boyfriend and he met your mom all in the same day.”
“We went for a run, and I beat him, and he swore he didn’t let me win.”
She laughed. “Emma Sinclair, have you and Kodiak finally—”
“Yes, Bren. We have.”
She dropped the phone when she screamed. “I knew it. And I won today too.”
“Wait. What?”
“I bet Mason you had.”
“Brenna!”
“It gets better, Em. I won fifty bucks.”
“From your husband, that hardly counts.”
“No, Luke was in on it too.”
“Oh my God,” I said, getting up to shut the door. “Speaking of Luke…” I told her how he’d guessed the ringtone was for him.
“He was probably joking.”
“Yeah, probably.”
“So, how serious are you two?”
“I unpacked my clothes into his closet this morning, and he put them back when I tried to move them to the spare bedroom.”
“He put them back? Wow.”
“I know, right?”
She was quiet for a few seconds.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“I’m happy for you, Em.”
“Thanks.”
“I mean it. I knew there was something between you, even in California. I just wasn’t sure you’d get out of your own way long enough to let it happen.”
“That makes two of us.”
“You deserve this. You know that, right?”
I didn’t respond, because if I spoke, she’d hear the crack in my voice.
“Emma?”
“I’m here.”
“Where is he now?”
“Making dinner.”
“Okay. I love you. Go eat whatever he’s cooking, because it smells good from here.”
“You can’t smell it from there.”
“I can smell it in my imagination, and it’s delicious. Good night.”
I hung up and sat with the phone in my lap for a minute. Coleman was in the kitchen, talking to himself. He did that when he cooked. The words never made sense from the other side of the wall, but the sound was familiar now.
By the time I came out, he had pasta, garlic bread, a salad, and a glass of wine waiting for me.
“How’s Brenna?”
“Happy. She won fifty bucks.”
His brow scrunched.
“Apparently, she won the pool on when we’d…you know.”
He folded his arms and rested them on the table. “No, I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me, Emma?”
I took a bite of salad and rolled my eyes.
“I’m waiting.”
I set my fork on the side of my plate, raised my wineglass, and took a long drink. “Tell you what, how about if I show you instead?”
He pushed his chair from the table and stood.
“Whoa, hold on there, cowboy. After dinner.”
“Dammit,” he muttered, sitting down and feigning a pout.
When we finished, I washed the dishes while he showered.
I’d just dried and put the last of the silverware away when the water went off in the bathroom.
Before I left the kitchen, I picked my parents’ photo up from the kitchen counter and carried it to the living room, then over to the bookcase by the window.
It was the only shelf in the house with anything on it.
A model ship he’d built rested in the center, with nothing else around it. I set the frame beside it.
I heard him behind me but didn’t turn around.
“Is that okay?” I asked.
“Yeah, Emma. That’s okay.”
I straightened the frame and took another look at the photo that was taken after they’d gone through one of the hardest periods of their lives, yet they were both smiling, happy that they’d come out the other side of it holding on to each other.
As I stood in Coleman’s living room, staring at the other empty shelves, I wondered if, when the investigation was over, he and I would be in each other’s arms and smiling too.