Emma
TWENTY
Rejection has never missed me during the many times I’ve dated. Never like yesterday, though.
For a solid thirty minutes after Matt left, I cycled through frustration, confusion… and then landed on played. Why would he leave when I told him he could stay? I turned the thought over and over until it finally clicked.
The discovery lingers all morning. The way he left, seemingly for my sake.
Let me know how you feel tomorrow…
If Julia was right, and Matt’s been feeling this way for a while now, then he’s not pulling away. He’s waiting. Making sure I’m actually in this with him.
Am I?
I reread the last paragraph of my now-finished first draft.
Matt Hunt is not the man headlines try to sell.
Beneath the action-hero persona is someone deliberate, thoughtful in way that doesn’t ask to be seen.
He listens more than he speaks, shows up without announcement, and cares in quiet, inconvenient ways.
The kind that doesn’t translate into press soundbites but matter anyway.
So what we need to be asking ourselves is not ‘How far gone is he?’ but rather, ‘How many fake features are we being fed, and believing?’
With Matt, physical attraction has always been there. That’s the easy part.
But after these couple of weeks… I’m not even sure I’m still at the ‘liking’ stage.
Things are moving fast. Clearly. But this sense of safety? That’s new. Unfamiliar enough it should probably concern me more than it does. Within an hour, I already miss him. The teasing. The jokes. The compliments I pretend to hate. The bickering I absolutely don’t.
And that’s when it hits me.
I can see it. Not just next week, or a year from now. Something longer, real. A possible future together.
Inconvenient, because not being just ‘a little into him’ means I’m in trouble.
As if I summoned him—again—my phone lights up.
My man
I have a surprise for you tonight. Are you free?
That sounds suspicious.
Usually, I hate surprises. Being let down is not on my bucket list, and I’d much rather know what I’m walking into. It’s why my parents never brought our Christmas gifts into the house early. I was Santa’s last stop. No exceptions.
My man
You’ll have to dress up.
Now I’m definitely suspicious.
My man
I’ll take that as a yes. I’ll pick you up at seven.
Trust me, you’ll love it.
This time, it feels different. Because with every time he asks, I do so a tiny bit more.
Getting ready takes me longer than usual. I know Matt’s going to be a gentleman no matter what I wear, but I want to impress him. To show him I’m just as invested in… whatever this is as much as him.
That means showing up. Putting in the effort. And, most difficult of all, being honest about my feelings.
When he knocks on my door, his reaction has changed from other times. He’s less open-mouthed, more cherishing the sight. As if now that something potentially real is developing between us, he’s scared I’m going to disappear in front of his eyes.
“Goddamn, Mills. You’re glowing.” His hands come up, but instead of hovering, he pulls me into a hug. “I don’t think I’m ever going to get tired of taking you out.”
“You clean up nice yourself,” I mutter into his chest.
He’s wearing dark tailored pants and a fitted black button-down, sleeves rolled up enough to make it unfair. No tie. No jacket.
My burgundy dress and gold heels seem to match the tone of the evening. I sigh of relief, and maybe to finally have him here.
My face stays pressed against his chest. The mix of leather and spice clinging to his skin send a warm ripple through my chest. I wrap my arms around his waist, grounding myself in the moment.
In him.
In how safe it feels.
“Just nice?” he asks, pulling back, arms still loosely around me.
“Don’t get used to compliments,” I tease.
“Too late,” he shoots back. “Should’ve thought about that before you climbed onto my lap yesterday. No better compliment than that.”
The valet takes the keys to Matt’s sport car—entirely too pleased about the thirty-second joyride to the parking garage—as we step up to the entrance of Marble & Ember.
It’s one of the most expensive restaurants in L.A.
, known for premium cuts of steak and imported Italian wine.
Easily the fanciest place I’ve ever been to.
Regular people drop this kind of money on extremely special occasions like anniversaries, milestones. Or even more nerve wracking, proposals. Is that what this is?
Has Matt decided to grand-gesture me into becoming official? I reason with myself we’re not hooking up material anyway. Labels, though, will definitely freak me out.
Matt leads us inside, his hand hovering at my lower back enough for his fingers to brush the exposed skin where my dress dips. Heat flashes through me instantly, every nerve ending suddenly aware of him, craving his touch elsewhere.
I distract myself by taking in the restaurant.
A massive olive tree towers in the center of the room, surrounded by four curved booths.
Pendant glass lights hang from the branches, casting everything in a warm golden glow that softens the dark leather seating.
Waiters weave between tables in crisp, perfectly iron white shirts and black vests, juggling trays of wine bottles and glistening glasses.
A small wave catches my attention. I start turning to see who it’s for when my brain finally catches up.
At the back of the room, already seated at a table, Julia and Harrison are grinning, calling us over.
My hand flies to my mouth. It’s only been three weeks.
Granted, we’ve gone months without seeing each other before.
But something about having them here, tan lines still fresh, features relaxed, wedding bands shining, throws me straight back to Julia’s birthday.
The night Harrison was her surprise. And now they’re both mine.
“I know you want to, but if you scream, we’ll definitely get kicked out,” Matt murmurs against my ear, sending goosebumps all over my skin.
At this point, I honestly wouldn’t care. My girl’s back. With her husband.
“You should’ve thought about that before you ambushed me,” I whisper back.
He huffs out a laugh and gently guides us toward the table, hand briefly squeezing my arm.
They both stand. Julia’s wide-eyed focus lock onto me immediately, while Harrison wears that permanently charming smirk of his, eyebrow raised directly at Matt.
Right.
I never updated Julia on the latest developments.
“Hi!” I whisper-shriek, grabbing her face to make sure I’m not hallucinating. “You’re here. Also, rude of you to somehow get prettier on vacation.”
“It’s not been that long,” she argues, but pulls me into a hug anyway. “We have a lot to catch up on, don’t we?”
My cheeks flush, and it doesn’t escape anyone.
Harrison, who’d been busy greeting Matt, turns to me, arms open wide.
“Emma,” he says, his thick British accent still offensively attractive. I’m used to it by now.
“Hey, dude.” I laugh, stepping into the embrace. They both still smell like tropical cocktails and coconut sunscreen.
“Shall we sit?” Harrison asks. “I’d hate to miss any important updates.”
Julia and I slide into one side of the booth across from each other, leaving the boys to mingle beside us. Matt braces an arm behind me almost instinctively. No says anything about it, but I can tell by the look they share that they’ve clocked it.
“How was Riviera Maya? Better than you expected?” I ask quickly, not ready to share our own shenanigans with the group yet.
“Relaxing,” Harrison says.
“Too adventurous,” Julia says at the exact same time.
Matt and I turn our heads toward each other, fully in sync, before looking back at the honeymooners.
“Oh, this is going to be good,” I tease.
“Spill,” Matt says.
“Harrison got us lost in the jungle.”
“We were not lost! We remained in close proximity to the hotel at all times,” he argues.
Julia lets out a laugh. “The GPS kept saying five minutes for forty-five.”
“Whose side are we on?” Matt voice low, leaning close enough that only I can hear him.
“It was scenic,” Harrison insists. He’s too focused on Julia to notice anything happening between Matt and me. Or maybe he already knows, and he’s choosing self-preservation.
Julia, however, narrows her eyes. She folds her hands over the table, ready to grill us until there’s nothing else to hide.
“What’s going on here, exactly? Anything you’d like to share with the class?”
I clear my throat. “Aside from him pushing me off a sailboat and forcing me to hike for, like, six straight hours—”
Matt turns toward me so fast I almost laugh. “Wow. I thought we were a team, Mills.”
Julia’s jaw drops. Her counterpart smacks Matt’s shoulder, clearly proud of his friend.
“And for the record,” he adds, “it was not six hours.”
“Emotionally it was,” I mutter under my breath.
“Mate,” Harrison says through a fake cough. “You threw her off a boat?”
“She fell.” Matt sounds so offended I can’t help the chuckle that escapes me. “And I jumped in right after to save her.”
“To save me?” I ask, innocently.
“Yes.”
Julia snorts. “Emma swims better than everyone at this table combined. Are you sure it wasn’t a ruse to play hero?”
We’re all giving him a hard time now, but Matt barely cracks a smile.
“She could’ve been hurt,” he says, quieter this time.
“That’s fair,” Julia says, giving him some leeway. “Harrison did sprain his ankle during our salsa lesson.”
All eyes swing to him.
“A man can’t excel at everything.” He shrugs, no shame. “I choose emotional support.”
“Was it everything you hoped for?” I ask Julia.
“Yes and no,” she admits. “There were moments we were exhausted but still didn’t want to miss out. We packed a sunburn since day one, and the mosquitoes—”
“God, don’t get me started on those,” Harrison groans.
“But it was also romantic. Quiet, and intimate in way we couldn’t have imagined.” She glances at him, her expression softening. I can see how much adoration he holds for her. “Tears were shed—”
Matt frowns. “Why would you cry?”
“She made me eat spicy food,” Harrison deadpans. “I didn’t cry. My eyes were sweating.”