Chapter Eleven
Emily
Cassie met my eyes in the mirror.
“Damn, we look good,” she said, twisting to the side to check out her ass in her cognac suede skirt.
Paired with a tight black top and thigh-high black boots, Cassie looked like she was ready to prowl.
“Rawrrr,” I purred at her.
“You’re one to talk,” she said, grinning. “Those boots scream cougar.”
“Ha-ha,” I said. “They’re cheetah, not leopard.”
Cassie shrugged like it didn’t matter what cat print adorned my feet. “I’m surprised Chris let you out of the house.”
“He almost didn’t. One look and he threatened to skip dinner and just have dessert.”
Cassie threw her head back and laughed.
“That man makes me feel so sexy.”
“Honey, it’s not the man. It’s you.”
As good as I felt in my pleather black dress shorts and long-sleeve sweater, Chris made me feel beautiful even when I wore sweats and a t-shirt.
I momentarily stepped back in time when we walked into The Cove Bar and Grill. My stomach clenched, my heart flip-flopped, and my breath caught in my throat when my eyes landed on the barstool where I’d first seen Chris. His face flashed in my mind, and I couldn’t help but smile.
It was odd to think how one moment—one night—changed my life forever.
“God,” I said as Cassie and I slid into our chairs, “it’s crazy how different things are now.”
The great thing about having a connection with your best friend, like I did with Cassie, was that I didn’t have to explain my thought process. She knew what I was talking about without me having to say a word.
After ordering two glasses of wine from the bartender, Micky, Cassie placed her hand on top of mine and said, “What’s really crazy is that none of this would’ve happened without my expert intervening.”
“True,” I said. “I guess I owe you a huge thank you.”
“No thanks needed,” she said. “But if you feel so inclined, drinks are on you tonight.”
I laughed but nodded my head. “I could never repay you.”
“Even though I had to practically strong-arm you into going over to talk to him.”
“I guess I should thank you for that too.”
Cassie tipped her glass toward mine in salute.
“I needed this,” I said, taking my first sip.
“I’ve gotta hand it to Chris. Not many people can read someone else after knowing them for such a short amount of time. That man of yours cares about you. But it’s not just you. He cares about your friends, too. Cares about our relationship. I can’t tell you how much it means that he made an effort to ensure you’re taken care of and that we get to spend time together.”
A twinge of guilt hit me. “I’m sorry if I’ve neglected you recently.”
Cassie shook her head. “No, that’s not what I mean,” she said. “I’m pointing out how lucky you are. And how happy I am for you.”
“I don’t want to let a man come between us.”
“He won’t. We both know that things change when you’re in a relationship. I understand that your focus is on him and Hudson right now. And it should be. It will be the same for me . . . someday.”
“I know you’ve been taking a hiatus from guys,” I said.
“No, I’m just having a dry spell. Don’t you worry about me,” she said, pivoting in her chair to peruse the sea of men. A quick glance, and she turned back around. “Eh,” she muttered.
“Guess who’s been asking about you?” I asked.
“Who?”
“Mike.”
“Huh,” she muttered.
“He’s cute. He’s single.”
“Divorced.”
I ignored the mention of something that could potentially be a red flag. “He’s nice,” I added. “And you two seemed to hit it off at dinner.”
“I don’t know, Em. He’s got a kid.”
“Uh, so does Chris.”
“Yeah, but I—what would I do with him?”
I snorted. “Gee, I don’t know. Maybe you can get to know him. Go on a date. See if there’s something there like there seemed to be when I watched the two of you together.”
“I’m not good at dating. You know me. I enjoy the noncommittal night or two of fun.”
“That’s a big, fat lie, and you know it.”
Cassie shrugged. “I can’t even remember the last time I went on a date.”
“I do. It was with that guy you met at the gym.”
“Oh, lord. Yeah, and look how that turned out.”
Micky placed two fresh glasses of wine in front of us. “So, can I have Chris give him your number?”
“Let me think about it,” she said.
I groaned, rolling my eyes.
“I’m not saying no. But?—”
“What are you so scared of?”
“Turning into you,” she teased. “A big pile of mushy love.”
“It’s like being a teenager all over again,” I said. “I can’t believe I fell so hard, so fast.”
“Yeah, it’s like a case of the body snatchers.”
“I remember when I was young, thinking that because I came from screwed-up parents, I was doomed to be broken forever. Grandma knew this and constantly tried to reassure me that even though some families aren’t perfect, life can be full of love. It just depends on who you surround yourself with. That’s why she always did everything she could to show me love and be there for me. When I lost her, I thought I’d never feel that again. Then I moved here and met you.”
“Em,” Cassie said.
I shook my head. “And meeting you, becoming friends with you and becoming part of your family, your parents . . . well, I found that kind of love again. Fast forward to Chris and Hudson. All of you have taught me that you can build a family—a life—and that family doesn’t have to be blood. They just have to be people who make you feel special. Real love comes from the people you choose to fill your life with.”
Cassie’s eyes brimmed with tears.
“I love you so fucking much,” she said, snatching a napkin up to dab her eyes. “And right now, I hate you for making me cry.”
How silly we must have seemed to anyone who was watching us.
When she grabbed me in a fierce hug, I laughed again.
“I love you too,” I said.
“How much?”
“So fucking much.”
She gave me an extra squeeze and said, “Damn right.”
By the time we received our third glass of wine and our greasy appetizers, we were giddy and vibrating with the particular kind of warmth that our favorite red wine always provided.
Carefully segueing my way back around to the topic of Mike, Cassie wasn’t as apathetic as before.
Her protective barrier was slowly breaking open.
“Can two people really be soulmates?” she asked, her eyes glittering with drunken sincerity. She cut me off as I started to answer, waving her hand in front of my face, “I mean, sure, it would be great if it were true. Right? How awesome would it be to have someone out there waiting for us?”
“I think Chris could be mine,” I said.
“Right!” She slapped my thigh. “You’re absolutely right. He was waiting for you. You were waiting for him. I’m just not sure I believe it. For me, I mean.” She took a deep breath and held it briefly before exhaling with a flourish. “You’re lucky, Em.”
“I think there’s someone out there waiting for you, Cass.”
“I’m tired of waiting.”
Cassie had never said anything like this before. She always looked forward to fun times and wild nights, sometimes not remembering the specific details of them in the morning. Sometimes, she didn’t even remember their names.
“You deserve the kind of love and friendship you have given me. I’m so lucky to have you.”
“Me too, babe.” She emptied her glass and looked off into the distance—wondering, thinking, hoping. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ve just been a cynic for all these years. Maybe I do believe in it, you know? Maybe there’s something to all this ‘meant to be’ stuff.”
“I think it’s better to believe in it. What woman doesn’t want real romance or true love in their life?”
Cassie snorted a tiny laugh.
“Okay,” I said. “You. But really, Cass? Don’t you want it?”
“Sometimes.”
“If I didn’t know what I know now—about loving Chris—I might agree with you. But now that I’ve lived it . . . experienced it . . . there’s no way I could go back to the old way of thinking.”
“Micky!” she called.
When he came over, she leaned forward, “We want some shots.”
“Shots?” I asked.
“Yes! We are celebrating.”
“What are you celebrating, love?” Micky asked.
Cassie smacked the bar top. “Love! And soulmates!” she yelled. “Can you make us a couple of Red-Headed Sluts?”
“Cassie!”
“What?” She giggled. “I like them!”
I shrugged and told Micky, “Whatever she wants.”
“And friendship!” Cassie added, clutching my hand in hers. “We’re celebrating friendship too.”
“Best friendship,” I agreed.