Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter
Forty-Three
“It’s been a day,” I said to Jemma when I arrived at the salon where she worked.
“I know the feeling,” she sympathized as she led me through the busy salon and into the employee break room in the back.
We had the small room to ourselves. Jemma shut the door, giving us even more privacy.
“I love most of my clients,” she whispered, “but somehow I ended up with three of my most difficult ladies all in one day.”
“Which is why I brought you this.” I held out the plastic container I’d brought from home. I’d made a quick stop there on my way to visit my friend. “I thought you might need it.”
Jemma had texted moments after I’d left the bar, telling me that she was ready to explode, thanks to crabby, overly picky, and downright unpleasant clients.
She peeked into the container and then looked up with grateful eyes. “Aw, Em. Is this from Ethan’s cake?”
I’d told her about the cake on my brother’s birthday, after she’d sent me a text to make sure I was doing okay.
“Yes, and it’s delicious, if I do say so myself.”
She grabbed a fork from the kitchenette and sank it into the slice of cake. “How’s Livy doing?”
“She amazes me with her resilience,” I said, sitting at the room’s small table. “I think our little birthday party was good for her.”
Jemma sat across from me and scooped up another forkful of cake. “What about you? Are you still hanging in there?”
“I’m doing okay,” I said. “It helps that I’ve had some major distractions.”
I proceeded to tell her about the visit to the pawnshop.
Jemma laughed so hard that she got me laughing too.
“I needed to hear that story as much as I needed this cake,” she said after I wrapped up the tale. “Thank you, Em.”
“I’m glad the ordeal was good for something.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “But I’m still mad at you for ditching me at the gym the other day.”
“I’m so sorry,” Jemma said, her brown eyes full of remorse. “It was Cindy Lafayette who texted with a hair emergency. She’s one of my best tippers, so how could I refuse her plea for help?” She whipped a crisp bill out of her pocket and waved it in front of my face. “See?”
I grabbed her hand so I could read the number on the bill. “She gave you a hundred bucks as a tip?”
“Yep.” Jemma grinned like the cat that got the canary. “And because I’m super-duper sorry that I abandoned you—”
“In a torture chamber with a murder suspect,” I cut in to remind her.
“I’m spending this tip money on dinner for you, me, and Livy,” she finished.
I perked up a little at that. “Really?”
“Of course. You’re my bestie, and Livy’s my favorite kid in the whole world. And I really, really don’t want you to be mad at me.”
I unfolded my arms. “Oh, you know I can’t stay mad at you for long.”
She threw her arms around me. “Thank you! And I’m so sorry.”
I gave her a squeeze in return. “You’re forgiven.”
“Now,” Jemma said as she released me, “let’s get out of here.”
“You’re done for the day?” I asked with surprise.
“So done, thanks to a cancellation.” She handed the plastic container back to me, empty now except for a few smears of chocolate frosting. “I’ll come with you to pick up Livy.”
We rode the subway to the Mirage, where I dropped off the empty container before we walked over to Livy’s school.
“Now you can update me on your investigation,” she said on the way, “and whatever happened with Bodie.”
I’d refused to talk about either subject while on the train with strangers all around us. Out here on the street, we had at least a semblance of privacy.
After the HALP! text I’d sent her, I’d told her only that an encounter with Bodie had prompted it and that I’d give her the details in person.
I’d just started in on that story when we reached the school. The bell rang, and the doors burst open, spilling children out onto the playground. Livy spotted Jemma and me and came running our way, her two braids flying out behind her.
She latched on to me first, squeezing me around my waist with an excited, “Auntie Em!” Then she tackle-hugged Jemma. “Hi, Jemma!”
My best friend hugged her back. “Hi, sweetie pie. Guess what the three of us are doing this evening.”
“What? What?” Livy bounced up and down, jostling her backpack.
“Going out for dinner!”
Livy cheered and bounced around some more.
The sight made my heart soar while simultaneously sending a stab of guilt through me. If I were a competent adult with a steady paycheck, I could treat Livy more often, without having to rely on my best friend to do so.
I didn’t have a chance to dwell on my guilt, and that was probably for the best. Livy skipped along ahead of us, so Jemma urged me to get back to our conversation.
Keeping my voice low enough that Livy wouldn’t overhear, I told Jemma all about my latest encounter with Bodie. Her jaw dropped, and she grabbed my arm when I got to the bit about the kiss.
“Oh my God, Emersyn! You’ve got two major hotties interested in you! This is the best!”
“No, it’s not!” I disagreed. “It’s confusing!”
“What is there to be confused about?”
I told her about my mixed feelings, how I felt an emotional connection with Bodie, but how my attraction to Wyatt was stronger, to the point that I’d thought of him when Bodie kissed me.
Yep, a superhot guy kissed me passionately, and I thought of someone else.
I’d expected more of a spark, maybe even full-on fireworks, but I’d searched the kiss for a flame, even an ember, and came up empty.
Jemma squealed with happiness. “That means you’ve got it bad for Wyatt.”
“That’s not a good thing!”
“How could it not be?”
“Have you forgotten everything I told you the other day?” I asked.
On the way to Ultimate Beast, I’d filled Jemma in on how, thanks to Theo, I’d finally learned Wyatt’s full name and looked him up on the Internet.
Jemma stopped me in the middle of the sidewalk. “Em, listen up. You are absolutely good enough for Wyatt. More than good enough, no matter how much money he has and no matter how famous his mom might be.”
“It’s not just that,” I said as we resumed walking. “I know we only met recently, but the fact that he’s secretive is a major red flag for me.”
Jemma tucked her arm through mine. “I know. After what Hoffman did to you, trusting isn’t easy.”
“It really isn’t. And I have to be extra careful now with Livy in my care.”
“Speaking of that,” Jemma said, talking even more quietly now, “how’s the situation with your mom?”
“I haven’t heard anything more from her about Livy’s guardianship. That’s good, right?” That’s what I told myself at night so I could fall asleep instead of staring at the ceiling for hours and hours.
“I sure hope so,” Jemma said. “Now, back to Wyatt.”
I groaned. “If—and that’s a big if—I were going to pursue a relationship with someone, Bodie is the far better choice.”
“But there’s no real spark there, and you can’t get Wyatt off your mind.”
Perhaps, I realized in that moment, the thought of forming a strong emotional connection with Wyatt scared me a little. Probably because something told me that he had the potential to really break my heart. Like, shatter it to pieces.
“Maybe,” Jemma said, shaking me out of my introspection, “what you need is to have a fling with Wyatt to get him out of your system. Then maybe you’ll find a spark with Bodie. Or another guy.”
My shoulders slumped. “You know I can’t do casual flings. Even if I tried, I’d get attached. And getting attached leads to getting hurt.”
“Okay, true,” Jemma conceded. “Separating the emotional from the physical has never been you.”
Ahead of us, Livy bunny-hopped her way up the front steps of the Mirage. When she reached the top, she ran back down to fetch the front door key from me. I handed it over, and she hopped up the stairs again.
“I just need to never see Wyatt again,” I whispered to Jemma as we followed Livy up the steps. “I’ll tell him we’re done investigating together, and that will be that. Once I’ve had time to forget about him, I’ll be fine. I just really, really need to steer clear of him.”
Livy hauled the door open and ran inside. We followed her and stepped into the lobby in time to hear her call out with delight, “Wyatt! Hi!”
I stopped so abruptly that Jemma bumped into me.
Wyatt stood in the middle of the lobby, looking dangerously hot in jeans, a T-shirt, and that darned military-style jacket that fit him like a bespoke glove.
Why, oh, why did the universe hate me so much?