5. Emmy
CHAPTER 5
EMMY
The sun is shining as I finish my usual two-mile jog around the park this morning and head to the Maple Grounds Coffee Shop and Bakery to meet Neesha. Running was the perfect way to clear my head after waking up to a barrage of negative comments on my controversial video.
The responses fall into two camps: the people who believe the perfect guy exists for them and want to prove me wrong , and the rest who want me to stop ruining their books and get back to my noncontroversial book reviews.
No matter what, it’s a lose-lose situation for me. Despite my love of romance books, I just can’t buy the dream of happily ever after anymore.
I almost close the app when a message pops up from Gold Dog.
Gold Dog
You still didn’t answer my question. Unless you really think I’m a serial killer?
I smile. He knows how to bait me, but he’s also a stranger from the internet.
Romcom Book
I don’t have answers, Gold Dog, only questions. Are you a serial killer?
When I look up, Neesha waves to me through the window of the bakery, where the smell of fresh pumpkin spice cinnamon rolls wafts out the door.
She tilts her head and studies me. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I say, trying to hide my worry. I said something and now I have to defend it, even though I'm starting to question if I'm the one who's wrong.
“Then you need to stop making that face. You’re going to end up with frown lines.”
I rub the wrinkle between my eyebrows. “I didn’t know I was frowning.”
“It’s been kind of a permanent thing ever since your brother arrived.”
“It’s not Dan.” Dawson’s arrival has my stomach in knots, only made worse by the brouhaha I stirred up on TikTok and the stranger who keeps messaging me.
“Have you ever had a feeling about someone?” I ask Neesha casually as I eye the cinnamon rolls.
Her face flicks to mine. “Like attraction?”
I shake my head. “A feeling like you can trust them.” I wipe away a strand of hair stuck to the sweat on my cheek.
Neesha stares at me. “Are you considering going out with a stranger? That’s so not you.”
“The problem is my pool of eligible bachelors is limited to Maple Falls. It’s more like a puddle than a pool.”
Neesha tilts her head. “You only need one man, Emmy. Guess what? The pool got bigger with these hockey players in town.”
“I’m not dating a hockey player,” I say flatly.
“Why not?” she says as she selects a maple-frosted doughnut.
“I don’t even like hockey,” I say, paying the cashier. “I spent a good percentage of my childhood at Dan’s hockey games. I’m finally free.”
“But it would be different if you were dating someone.” Neesha chooses a cafe table in the front for us.
“Maybe,” I say, shrugging.
My feelings around hockey are complicated. When I was seven, I asked my parents if I could play hockey, and they said Girls don’t play hockey. Then they dragged me to every hockey game Dan had for the next thirteen years. Family dynamics and gender stereotypes aren’t topics I want to dive into before I’ve consumed coffee, but I see the differences between us. For Dan, the sport allowed him to shine and furthered his reputation as the golden child of the family. But I never found my place or what I had to offer.
“It’s not that. Look at me,” I say, pointing to my disheveled ponytail and cut-off Taylor Swift T-shirt. “I’m not about to win over any professional athletes with this look.”
“What? You’re adorable after a run.”
“Thanks, Neesha, but you’re a terrible liar.”
On this morning’s run, my mind kept looping back to Dawson, and I’m not sure how to feel about that. On one hand, he has the same effect as this cinnamon roll—warm, yummy, and completely satisfying. But he’s also dangerous for my heart.
I glance out the front window of the coffee shop, watching the morning crowd hurry in to get fresh baked goods before Maple Grounds runs out.
Neesha takes a sip of her chai before unwrapping her maple-glazed doughnut. “This would be your chance to find out if hockey players can be romantic too. One hundred bucks says they can.”
“I don’t do bets,” I say, wiping frosting from my mouth.
“You could use the money, right?” she asks brightly. It’s almost like she wants me to take the risk. “You told me you’re short on cash to pay for new tires.”
Neesha works two jobs, and her family regularly sends her money. She’s always loaning me cash when I’m short.
“Yeah, but I don’t have a hundred bucks to lose either,” I complain.
Life was hard enough when I lived at home. Since I moved in with Mimi, it’s been nearly impossible to keep up. Her social security check doesn’t cover the prescription medications she requires for her heart issues, and I refuse to let her stop taking them. But Mimi doesn’t want to bother the family about her money troubles, especially Dan. She forbids me to talk about how we can’t afford our basic needs, and I want to respect her wishes, even though I’m bleeding money every month.
“What about Dan’s friend?” Neesha asks. “He was fun, not to mention hot .”
“Dawson?” I say, my voice pitching higher. “Oh, no. He’s trouble.”
“There’s trouble and then there’s trouble,” Neesha says, lifting her eyebrows suggestively. “Which is he?”
“I don’t know, both? He’s earned himself a reputation since I last saw him.” I put down my cinnamon roll. “He’s always out with different women, and he got into some drama with a photographer while on a date. The Dawson I knew seemed really nice. Not a player.”
Neesha gives me a sly smile. “For what it’s worth, he looks good next to you.”
“He’s huge compared to me.” I rip off another bite of cinnamon roll. “And we’re complete opposites—the jock and the nerd.”
“Don’t they always end up together in the movies?” she challenges.
“Yes, in fiction. Not in real life,” I remind her.
Ever since Dawson arrived, I’ve been scheming to stay away from him. Sure, he’s ridiculously good looking, not to mention funny and witty. Basically, the whole package. But according to fan sites, Dawson’s reputation is in the trash. Keeping him in the friend zone is the best thing for my heart.
“You obviously have a history with him,” she says.
“History? I hung out with him at a Halloween party. We were in college and I made a stupid pact that I hope he’s forgotten.”
Neesha puts her doughnut down. “What pact?”
I wave her off. “Just a silly dating pact. If either of us needed a date, we could call the other to be our backup plan. The agreement would go into effect when I turned twenty-five.”
Neesha gasps. “You just turned twenty-five!” She leans across the table. “Didn’t you get invited to a party at the Harrisons’?”
“Only because I’m their employee. And I’m not taking Dawson.”
“But this is your chance to use the dating pact. See if Dawson has a romantic side!”
I shake my head. “Bad idea. Terrible. Awful.”
She smirks. “Or the best idea ever.”
“I don’t go for guys like him,” I argue.
“You mean hockey guys?”
I nod. “I’ll never date a hockey player. They don’t stick around.”
“Says who?”
“My brother.”
“But Dan’s a good guy!” she exclaims. A few people turn and stare at us.
“Shhhh,” I say, putting my finger to my lips. “I’m sure there are a few good ones.”
“Then how do you know Dawson isn’t?” Neesha asks, challenging me. “Give me one good reason you can’t just cut loose and have fun for once.”
I wipe my mouth with a napkin. “Because I feel like I’m setting up expectations that can’t be met. Hockey guys are tough, competitive, and playing to win. They don’t even know what a grand gesture is.”
Neesha laces her fingers together and rests her chin on her hands. “Didn’t you just confess on the TikTok that nobody is perfect and to stop comparing real men to fictional ones?”
“I know,” I say miserably. “It’s all my fault, really. After devouring so many romances, just reading it isn’t cutting it anymore. I want to be Elizabeth Bennet. Can someone please declare their love while wearing a billowy white shirt, just like Mr. Darcy in Pride and Prejudice ?”
Neesha giggles. “Some guys are romantic, minus the billowy shirt.”
I finish my cinnamon roll and sigh. “The hockey team is only here for the fall. And I don’t want to be a one-season wonder.”
Neesha leans across the table. “Then be somebody’s next right thing .”
I shake my head. “Don’t you remember the last guy I dated? He moved on after a few dates.”
She lays her hand on my arm. “I don’t mean their temporary next thing. I mean the one they stay with. The girl they say yes to.”
I tilt my head. “I think you have a future in relationship counseling.”
Neesha gives me a pleased grin. “Why would I need to go into that when I have you? You give me plenty of material.”
The door opens behind me, and a gust of wind blows through, stirring up leaves on the street and lifting my napkin off the table.
Neesha’s eyes slide over my shoulder and widen. “Oh, girl. You’re about to get your wish.”