Emma
As it turned out, Zach, the date I invited under duress, was a complete imbecile. I knew there was a reason his name stuck out in my mind like an itch you couldn’t scratch—and it was not because of his witty personality. I’d been obsessively scrolling the three dating apps, convinced something was wrong with my profile introduction or picture, when I stumbled upon his messages.
Perhaps there was some weird algorithm at work that only matched me with people who had debilitating personality quirks. Stranger things had happened, and unless I was the unwilling star of a new reality show, this had to stop. My sanity and liver could not take much more.
Zach’s profile caught my attention for reasons such as only wears jeans, so fancy girls need not apply. If there’s not a drink in my hand, be a doll and fetch me one. And my personal favorite, I promise I’m not a squirrel, so you must be the nut.
Who knew why I even bothered going to the trouble of inviting him to the party—besides the fact that I’d already committed to this farce by fibbing to one of my best friends. Was there something so terrible about me not having a date? Or did I not want to discourage Miller from bringing someone he was genuinely interested in?
Obviously, whatever our arrangement was couldn’t continue forever, but we’d both been single for so long, the idea of Miller getting involved with someone didn’t sit right with me. My brain continued to cycle on repeat that I was being a ridiculous hypocrite, but the irrational and much larger part of my personality said I could feel however I wanted—and if I chose to feel weird, then let my freak flag fly.
However my wonky body decided to feel, the uneasy sensation that crept into my stomach as I watched them talk from across the room was unwelcome. His hand rested lightly on the long, dark waves that cascaded down her back, caressing the fabric of her dress that ended well above her knee. I glanced at my feet, tugging on the hem of my much more conservative dress.
Not that I was a prude or had anything against showing a little skin, but I liked to focus on one asset per outfit. This dress had a dramatic neckline, plunging down between my breasts, and that, paired with the modest hemline and high heels, was plenty for a party mostly consisting of guests over the age of fifty.
I chewed on my lip then sighed, releasing the flesh from my teeth before I ruined my lipstick. I knew how his nimble fingers felt on my skin, knew how enticing he could make one innocent caress. His date simpered under his touch as a genuine smile spread across Miller’s face. I would know, recognizing the way the small laugh lines around his eyes stood out against his tan skin. That only happened when his smile got so wide it took over his features. I dug deep, past the dread in my stomach, and brought forth happiness on his behalf.
For him. For them. Together.
They looked good, standing close, wearing complementing colors, and giving each other casual touches. I could be happy for them—just like how Miller supported the revolving door of dates I’d had these last weeks. He didn’t have a problem voicing his opinion after letting me vent, but he never dissuaded me from continuing my pursuit.
Zach and I, on the other hand, did not look good together, and he’d lose a finger if he dared to touch any part of me. He was loud and boisterous, with thinning brown hair and tiny, squinty eyes. He had enough common sense to wear a collared shirt but not enough to tuck it in. I also watched him down two shots at the bar before returning with a glass of white wine for me and a beer for himself. He stumbled over air and sloshed beer onto his shoes before I could take the glass from his hand.
Perhaps I should have taken his beer as well since he already looked to be half in the bag. My eyes finally left Miller and his date—just as he saw me staring. I felt my cheeks flame and pressed my palm against one, watching him grin. Attempting to return the gesture was useless, but I still plastered a tight smile on my face and waved at him with two fingers.
“I wonder if that bartender is single. Think she’s into threesomes? Are you?”
My attention snapped to Zach, shaking beer droplets off his shoes, and oblivious to the fact that I was trying to melt his forehead with the heat of my stare. The droplets landed on my heels, and I stumbled backward, not missing the way Zach rolled his eyes at my discomfort.
“Don’t worry about the shoes, pretty. They’ll look much better thrown over my shoulders.”
I forced the smile to stay on my face as I followed one droplet as it slid down my bare ankle. “Zach, if you honestly think I’d consider that, you have another thing coming. I suggest you make a quick exit before I dropkick you right in the balls. This was obviously a mistake I won’t be repeating.”
I made a shooing motion with my hand as his jaw dropped and a predatory grin spread across his features. “Aww. Don’t be uncomfortable. Better to find out now what I like, right?”
My mouth opened, words forming in my throat at the audacity of this doofus when the only thing that could make this night worse happened.
“Well, hey there. I’m Celeste. Miller has just told me all about you,” she cooed, looping her arm in his as her gaze darted between Zach and me. My heart dropped, and I willed my expression to stay neutral.
“Nice to meet you, Celeste,” I answered, holding my hand out. She shook it before laying her head on Miller’s shoulder and stroking his chest. I tracked the movement as the uncomfortable sensation reached a fever pitch, and I had the sudden urge to find the nearest exit and escape. “I’m Em—”
“You’re Emma. I know. Miller has been going on and on about what good friends you are. Honestly, if he hadn’t used the word friend thirty-eight times, I’d be a little jealous. But I see you have your own arm candy this evening.” She giggled, pointing toward Zach, who was busy staring at the ass of a passing server.
Seriously, what in the world was wrong with me that I couldn’t attract a normal guy?
I elbowed him in the shoulder, and he jumped, wiping his hand on his jeans before sticking it out toward Miller. “Hey, man. The name’s Zach.”
Zach burped, barely covering his mouth with the hand not outstretched to Miller. The grin Miller wore morphed into a scowl as he stared at Zach’s hand before sticking both of his in his front pockets, the slight clear. Zach shrugged and turned to Celeste, raising his eyebrows as a cringy smile enveloped his features.
“Can’t your guy keep your drink filled? Need another, doll?”
She glanced at her near-full glass, then to Miller, confusion evident as a crease appeared between her brows.
“If she needs a drink, I’ll be sure to get her a refill. Speaking of that, Zach,” Miller said, looking at his now empty beer glass and the splotches of liquid on the tile floor. “Your glass is empty.”
“That it is, dude. Let me rectify that situation.” He saluted Miller with his empty glass like he’d done him some big favor by pointing out the obvious. As he turned, Miller fisted his collared shirt, stopping him. “You don’t exactly seem like Emma’s type, so forgive me for asking, but I need to make sure you’re not going to mistreat her.”
Miller cracked his neck as Zach tugged his arm away and rolled his eyes, scoffing. “Don’t be a douche, guy,” he said before sauntering to the bar and shaking his empty glass at the bartender.
I ignored the scene, and I felt the little swooping sensation in my stomach when Miller’s possessive streak came out to play. If Celeste was on the receiving end of that, she’d grab him with both hands and never let him go. Sighing, I turned back to the happy couple and focused my attention on her, but Miller had another idea, meeting my eyes with a scowl that could melt steel.
“Emma. Can I talk to you? Over there, please?” He motioned to the far corner of the room, and I nodded, turning away as he grasped his date’s arm and leaned close to whisper something in her ear. Walking in the opposite direction didn’t prevent me from hearing her tittering laugh, the noise sounding like nails on a chalkboard mixed with the high-pitched yip of a chihuahua.
I counted my steps across the beautifully decorated space, taking in the tiny succulent centerpieces on each table and the green-draped chairs. Whoever the boys hired to help with this party did a fantastic job showcasing Bev’s love of plants without making the restaurant look like a giant forest on steroids. I clenched my fists, letting my nails dig half-moon crescents into my hand before I turned around.
Miller stalked toward me, jaw clenched and features blank. As soon as he got close enough and we were out of hearing range of the other party-goers, he leaned down, grasping my arm and hissing, “What in the absolute fuck, Em?”
His voice cracked with anger as I swallowed, knowing Zach was a mistake before I sent him the initial invitation to this party. A part of me wanted to say Miller had no right to get all uppity, but I knew he was in the right.
“I know he’s not the most well-spoken—”
“Not the most well-spoken? Really? Oh, bullshit. You didn’t have a date at all, did you?” He seethed, letting go of my arm before running a hand through his hair and then glancing behind him.
Celeste had followed Zach to the bar, and they were talking very close. I bit my lip, not bothering to point out how awful the entire situation was.
What had I done, bringing that idiot to Bev’s party? He served only to embarrass me, and I mentally berated myself as my mind flashed through a hundred scenarios where he completely ruined Bev’s night.
“Why did you lie to me? How could you have invited that, that cretin to my mother’s birthday party?”
I wrapped my arms around myself, eyes shining at the stupidity of my actions as I glanced around the room. Bev was holding baby Eloise and talking to a pretty lady with black hair and a very irritated-looking Maverick. Jenna and Mark were a little way away in a conversation with an elderly couple, but their eyes kept flicking to the baby. I’d swoon with how adorable they were if I wasn’t on the verge of a waterfall escaping from my eyeballs.
“All you had to do was say so if you didn’t want me to bring a date. I only invited her because I figured you’d already invited someone.” His fingers glided along my arm and rested on my elbow as goose bumps dotted the places he touched. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t make my body complete the simple task of converting oxygen into carbon dioxide because of the way he watched me.
“Miller,” I said, dredging forth as much happiness as I could before glancing over his shoulder at our two dates, who were still standing too close together. Zach’s hand rested on Celeste’s hip, but I couldn’t care less about who he ended up with—knowing it absolutely would not be me. But I did care about Miller and the hoe-bag who was pawing all over someone who was not him.
Thinking of her hands all over Miller caused the sickening feeling to creep up ten-fold, but I shoved it aside in favor of what I should have said all along. “Miller, if she makes you happy, then, of course, she should be with you tonight. The exasperating situation with my date should not be a factor.”
He paused, tilting his head as his lips twitched, likely suppressing a smile that I wasn’t going to be a Petty Patsy about this. “I suppose I like her, but I hardly know her.” He shrugged, and the grip on my elbow tightened. “Why did you bring that guy? I could tell he wasn’t worth your time before he even opened his mouth. Why do you keep settling, babe? You deserve someone who will give you the world. Not these children only interested in getting their dick wet.”
“It’s not like I have that many options, so kindly refrain from determining if I’ll settle or not. Now, your mom is waving me over.”
I had to compartmentalize Miller—stuff him in a little box full of other fond memories with smooth edges and soft lines. Then I needed to close the box, lock it, and bury it deep inside my mind. Tonight was about Beverly, not about whatever drama this was.
“What? No, she’s not.” He turned as he scanned the room, stopping on Bev, who had just passed the baby back to Mark.
“You just didn’t see her,” I said, pulling my arm away from his grasp. “I’ve got an early morning tomorrow.”
No, I didn’t.
“Have a great night with Celeste.”
Just leave out the details, please.
“I’ll make sure Zach stays out of trouble.”
Even if I have to throat-punch him.
Miller went in for a hug, but I deflected, side-stepping him and walking away before I could unpack his words. Beverly spotted my approach and held up her empty champagne flute, motioning to the bar.
My eyes widened, and I frantically looked toward the spot where I’d last spotted Zach. I didn’t know if I was relieved or panicked that he was nowhere to be found. Relief, I knew, as I laid my almost full glass of wine on the bar top and pressed my hand to my cheek, hoping to dissipate the burn of embarrassment.
“Sweetheart!” Bev cooed, putting her empty flute beside mine and wrapping both arms around me. I returned her embrace as she squeezed me tight before pulling away. “This dress is gorgeous on you.”
“Thank you so much. Happy birthday,” I answered. “This is a fantastic party.”
“It’s even better now that you’re here, but yes, the boys did a great job. So did the party planner, of course. Speaking of the boys, can you believe the tart Miller brought?”
“Tart?” Like I had any room to talk, but luckily, Zach remained elusively absent.
“Yes. Tart. Two of my boys are so happy, but Maverick and Miller absolutely refuse to see what’s right in front of them.”
“I’m going to refrain from commenting, as I’m—”
“Oh, yes, Jenna has filled me in. Such a shame that the school is so behind the times. But honestly, I wish you’d just get together with Miller. I already think of you as a daughter, and that would make it official.”
I snorted, shaking my head. Miller and I could never be any more than what we were. I was notorious for burying myself in my work, and Miller was easygoing and carefree. I needed a personality that matched mine—he was too good of a friend for me to risk what we had over something that had a zero-point-one chance of ever working out.
“Don’t roll your eyes at me, Emma,” she said, accepting another glass of champagne as I shook my head, still on my first. “I’ve seen how perfect you two are for ten years. Have you met Summer? Where did she go? Let me introduce you.”
Bev looked around, and I followed her gaze as it landed on the girl she was talking to earlier. The need to be a happy guest was at war with my need to disappear as fast as I could run in these beer-splattered heels.
“Honey. Are you okay?”
“What? Yes. Of course,” I said, grasping her shoulder as she returned the gesture with a reassuring squeeze.
Her eyebrows furrowed, and she pursed her lips, tilting her head and pinning me with a glare that could rival my mother’s.
“Perhaps not, but now is not the time to sort through all the things mucking up my mind.”
“Hmm. Why don’t you head out early and meet me for lunch next week?” she asked, taking a sip of her refilled drink. The amount of relief that coursed through my body was better than any rush of endorphins.
“I—”
“Don’t think twice about it. You just feel better.”
I nodded, not able to tell her that although I physically felt fine, something was clearly the matter—but she understood, enveloping me in a hug before shooing me out the door. I should have ensured Zach was long gone, but I couldn’t bring myself to do anything but run away.
The knock startled me as I paced the living room an hour later, tears streaming down my face. I couldn’t understand why I was crying—definitely not for how my date with Zach ended. I’d allow the wet tracks to stay on my face for two more minutes, then I’d take a shower and wash this night away. The knock came again, and I scrubbed my hands over my face, shoving this meltdown deep down before opening the door.
Miller.
His body took up the entirety of the frame, and I wrapped my hands around my stomach, pushing out the breath I’d been holding as he stepped inside. “What are you doing here?” I asked, shaking my head as he crossed his arms, silently taking in my appearance. I knew I looked horrible, but I didn’t have the energy to care.
“You left before I could say goodbye,” he answered, stalking toward me like I was a gazelle, and he was on the prowl for a tasty treat.
“Shouldn’t you be with Celeste?” I whispered, falling backward onto the sofa and drawing my knees to my chest. He sighed, sitting beside me and spreading his legs wide so one rested against my bare foot. I didn’t mean to sound so petty; my concern was coming from a very not petty place. If I had a date with someone and left early to go to another girl’s house, I’d be irritated. I had a date but couldn’t bring myself to care what had happened to that idiot.
“No. No. That’s not going to work out.” He bumped his knee into my foot like I’d have some big opinion on his date. I did, but now wasn’t the time for me to run my mouth.
“Oh?”
“Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck and picked up my glass of lemonade from the coffee table before taking a sip. “That was a mistake. She had the personality of a water buffalo and the subtlety to match.”
“Ouch.” I chuckled, shaking my head and biting the inside of my cheek to keep from demanding more information.
“Don’t be silly, Em. My mother is a great judge of character, and she couldn’t stand her.”
Sounds about right. Bev isn’t one to mince words.
“You, on the other hand, she’s crazy about and asked me why your supposed date spent the majority of the night hitting on the bartender.”
“Ah, yes. Well, you see. You brought a water buffalo to the party while I chose a horndog. Clearly, we were both impaired.”
“Yeah,” he said, knocking his knee to my foot again. “At least you don’t seem too broken up about it. I’d hate to leave you here to go kick his ass.”
“Shut up. You know exactly where you can shove that macho bullshit.” I swiped my finger underneath my eye, ruining any lingering mascara left over from the party. He grabbed my hand, holding it in his much larger one and squeezing gently. The gesture was soothing, like a balm to cover my ragged emotions. But no matter how I was feeling, it was not his job to pick up the pieces—no matter how right it felt.
Sighing, he combed his other hand through his short hair. “Listen. I know we don’t talk about our arrangement.” He paused after that word, and he moved his hand to rub the back of his neck. “But you. This.”
I wanted to stop whatever he was going to say, but I was powerless under his gaze. His eyes bored into mine, so wide I could see the flecks of gold lingering among his darker irises.
“This friendship is important to me. How assholes like what’s-his-name treat you is important to me.”
He grasped my hand and tugged, but I resisted, not sure how he expected me to react.Pushing aside our unfortunate situation, this felt better than any date I’d been on. This felt like what my evenings should be like—not the party dramas with a side of self-loathing but sharing a glass of lemonade on the couch after an evening out.
If only we wanted the same things in our future. He’d never understand why getting this job was so important, and I’d end up resenting the fact that his hours revolved around how hard he felt like working.
I couldn’t deal with this tonight. My head was spinning, and my exhaustion level was through the roof.
“Miller,” I said, standing and motioning toward the door, “tonight’s been strange.”
He rose from beside me and dragged his hand down his face before grabbing my arm and enveloping me in a hug, and for once, I didn’t think.