Things were different now.
They’d turned a corner or come full circle or one of those clichés. And while Emma had no idea what it meant or what she was supposed to do next, she didn’t mind. She felt like this was the beginning of not just a new chapter in her book, but of a whole new part. Emma’s Life, Part Two. She could see it as clear as day. She could feel it.
And much to her own astonishment, she was ready to turn the page.
* * *
Charlie hadn’t expected to be so comfortable at Emma’s place. In fact, she’d second-guessed her decision to walk her home the entire way here, even on the way up the stairs. But once inside, that had changed. Her nerves melted away. Her uncertainty evaporated like fog on a sunny summer morning. Emma’s place felt inviting. Welcoming. Happy to have her there—which was silly, she knew, but that’s how it felt.
It was weird, right?
She and Emma hadn’t exactly ended on good terms. No, scratch that. They’d ended on very, very bad terms. Totally Charlie’s doing and she knew it. And Emma knew it. Yet here they sat, in astonishingly easy silence, eating side by side on Emma’s couch.
Emma had sautéed sliced zucchini and cherry tomatoes in butter, garlic, and fresh basil from the tiny herb garden on her windowsill. Then she’d topped it with fresh mozzarella cheese and served Charlie a heaping portion. Charlie scraped her plate and did her best to resist actually licking it clean, which was beyond tempting. This was obviously a talent of Emma’s that she’d not only not lost, but had improved on immensely: whipping up a meal using whatever ingredients were handy.
“My God, that was good.” Charlie stood from the couch—not without a bit of a struggle from being full—and reached for Emma’s plate.
“Yeah? I’m glad. Super easy to do. I could show you.”
Charlie took the dishes into Emma’s kitchen and rinsed them both. “I don’t need to learn. I have you.” The implication of the words hung in the air between them. Charlie felt herself flush and did her best to focus on the dishes rather than looking at Emma’s face to see her reaction.
“You’ll just have to keep me supplied with pie, then.”
“Seems like a reasonable trade.”
What were they doing? What the hell were they doing?
Charlie finished rinsing the plates and put them into the dishwasher. “This is a great kitchen. Not at all what I was expecting from an upstairs apartment.” Yes, Charlie. Change the subject. Smooth.
“I did some work, had some things rearranged.” Emma was stretched out, her legs crossed at the ankle on the coffee table, looking casual and comfortable. “I can go downstairs and experiment in the restaurant kitchen easily enough, but sometimes, I just want to be home. You know?”
“Makes perfect sense.” Charlie gave a nod, then glanced at her watch. She didn’t really want to leave, and that was a strange thing to come to grips with. “Well, I have to get up super early—life of a bakery employee—so I should probably head home.”
“I’d offer to drive you, but I’m still a tiny bit buzzed.” Emma grimaced but sounded sincere as she stood up.
“No, no. No worries. I can call…what was his name? Tom?” At Emma’s nod, she said, “I can call Uber Tom.” Charlie hit the right buttons and called for a ride. “Three minutes away. Wow.”
“Faster than catching a cab in New York, I bet.” There was a playful twinkle in Emma’s dark eyes that took away any sarcasm Charlie might’ve assumed. Or fully expected.
“Definitely, especially if it’s raining.” Still struck by the feeling of not wanting to leave, she found her bag and slung it over her shoulder. Emma met her at the door and opened it for her. “This was…” Charlie let the sentence dangle, not sure of the right words, but only because there were so many.
“Unexpected?”
“Yeah. That. And nice.”
“It was.” Emma looked down at her feet, and when she brought her gaze back up, she scrunched up her nose. “Is that weird?”
“So weird!” Charlie said immediately and they both laughed. Then, before she could second-guess herself, Charlie reached out and wrapped Emma in a hug.
Oh my God.
How could this be? How could hugging Emma feel so incredibly perfect? After all they’d been through. After so much time apart, so much time with other people, how could Emma still feel this exactly right in her arms?
Charlie wondered if Emma was feeling the same thing because her arms tightened around Charlie’s form, held her close. Emma’s nose was in Charlie’s hair. She could hear her breath near her ear. Emma’s body beneath Charlie’s hands was solid but soft, familiar, comforting.
They pulled apart very, very slowly. Barely apart. Stayed close enough that the tips of their noses almost touched. Emma’s eyes had gone even darker, and the heat Charlie felt simmering in her core was the only thing she was aware of. Well. That and Emma’s mouth so close to hers.
Were they both breathing hard?
Charlie was, that was for sure, and when she wet her lips with her tongue, Emma made a soft sound—a combination groan-whimper—and that was it.
Their mouths crashed together, and suddenly, they were kissing. No, they were full-on making out. Right there in Emma’s doorway, and Charlie couldn’t remember when anything had felt so exactly perfect in her life before that. Lips parted, tongues danced. Emma’s mouth was soft and hot and wet, and she tasted like the past and the future and home.
Before she could analyze any of it, especially that last bit, her phone pinged.
Startled, Charlie jolted back a step. Her chest was heaving, as was Emma’s, and they stood there. Blinking. Staring. Emma’s cheeks were flushed, her eyes still dark and heavy-lidded. Charlie swallowed.
“My ride’s here,” she whispered.
Emma nodded.
“Okay.” Charlie lifted a hand in a weak wave. “I’ll see you.”
Emma nodded again. Apparently, words had left her completely.
Charlie turned and fled down the stairs.
That really was the best way to describe it: She fled. Almost ran. She couldn’t remember ever feeling this torn between staying put and running away at top speed, and she burst out of the first-floor door like she was crashing through the finish line of a race. She quickly checked the license plate of the car, then hopped in and collapsed against the seat. As the Uber pulled away, she ventured a glance up at the second floor of the building.
Emma was standing in the window, and Charlie couldn’t look away.
What the hell just happened?
Chapter Sixteen
One advantage to making pies for the bakery was that, while it gave Charlie the chance to experiment and try new things, she also didn’t have to be creative when she wasn’t feeling it. She could make a coconut cream pie with her eyes closed, and that Monday, that felt like exactly what she was doing.
Not only had her little tryst with Emma kept her awake all night, but she’d also gotten a text later from Lily Bricker, who had a line on a job for her in Boston and wanted to talk to her about it. Charlie had the end of the text memorized.
I know this guy really well, talked you up, you’re pretty much in for an interview. See? It’s what you’ve been hoping for!
And it was. It was exactly what she’d been hoping for. What she’d been waiting for since she pulled into her parents’ driveway several weeks ago. To find a way to go back—Boston wasn’t New York, but it would do—and survive on her own. On her own. No help from anybody.
Push, knead, fold, repeat…
She worked the dough for the piecrust with her hands, not thinking about it at all because her mind was on other things. So many other things. Lily’s text had given her something to focus on besides Emma—besides Emma’s mouth, Emma’s eyes, Emma’s hands—but it hadn’t eased her stress, only added to it.
She’d loved working in a big, bustling marketing firm. The breakneck pace, the competition, the working at all hours. It had been exhilarating…hadn’t
it? She hadn’t done it for longer than a year before Darcy pulled her away to do other things. But she was living under Darcy’s roof, Darcy paid for pretty much everything, so doing what she asked of Charlie seemed not only reasonable, but right. It was a way to contribute…the only way Charlie had.
If she got this job, she would be redeemed. She’d show Darcy that she really didn’t need her, hadn’t needed her at all to make her own way in the business world. Darcy used the city, the success of her company, the pace, the money, she used all of it to lure Charlie. To woo her. And it had worked like a charm. Charlie hadn’t been the first, and she could admit now that there was some part of her that had always known she probably wouldn’t be the last. Getting a job at another company and succeeding all on her own would give her some serious satisfaction. It would be a giant middle finger raised in Darcy’s direction. Not that Darcy would notice.
Charlie hadn’t told anybody about the text, and she hadn’t responded yet. Her brain had been too full of Emma last night, and this morning, she was too damn tired.
As she rolled out the dough, Sandy came through the doors from the front, humming softly, and got started on her famous—well, in Shaker Falls—brownie batter. Sandy’d been humming since Charlie had arrived over an hour ago, her face sporting a gentle smile.
“So…” Charlie drew the word out. Bethany was coming in late today, and she and Sandy were alone in the kitchen. “How was your date with Mr. Silver Fox?”
Sandy’s face flushed in an instant, her cheeks tinting to match the pink apron she’d put on, and she blinked several times, not looking up at Charlie.
“That’s quite the blush you’ve got going there, Ms. McCarthy. So good, then?” She grinned at Sandy because it made her heart warm to see her so obviously happy. “Care to share?”
Sandy added flour to the mixing bowl, cocoa powder, vanilla, and seemed to contemplate what she wanted to say. When she lifted her eyes to Charlie, her expression was contemplative, brow furrowed. “So…my marriage wasn’t great,” she began, cracking an egg on the counter and adding it to the bowl. “It wasn’t horrible, but it was very…” She pursed her lips for a second. “Stale. Stagnant.”
She hadn’t expected this glimpse into Sandy’s personal past, but she nodded in understanding. She’d never experienced that exactly, but she could imagine.
“We never had kids because neither of us really wanted them, so you’d think that would’ve made us tighter, you know? Do more stuff together. Be the envy of our friends who were tied down both timewise and financially because of their children. But it didn’t. We just got boring.” She turned off the mixer and poured half the batter into a large pan. Then she put the bowl back under the mixer and added walnuts to the remaining batter. “No, correction. My husband got boring. I wanted to do stuff and he just didn’t. We were in our early forties and I was starting to feel seventy. We’d go to dinner once in a while, but we mostly stayed home, watched TV. I could literally feel myself getting old before my time.” Sandy glanced up at Charlie and waved a dismissive hand. “Sorry. You didn’t ask for all that.”
“No, no, please,” she said with a smile. “It’s nice to actually talk. You know?”
Sandy’s dimples appeared as she smiled back. “It is nice, isn’t it? Anyway, my point in giving you the History of Sandy McCarthy’s Love Life is simply to highlight how different Eric is than my ex. He wants to do stuff. Go places. Have fun.” Her eyes were bright. “Live. I haven’t had that in a long time. We talked a lot about it. His ex-wife is very similar to my ex-husband.”
“Maybe you should hook them up. I mean, I didn’t spend much time with him, but he seems really nice.”
“Oh, he is. A complete gentleman. Wicked sense of humor. I can’t remember the last time I laughed like that.”
“Somebody who can make you laugh is huge.” She thought about Emma, her sense of humor, how she knew just how to crack her up.
“Right? You don’t realize how important that is until you meet it.”
“I take it you’ll see him again?”
“He’s making me dinner tonight.”
“And he cooks? Score!”
“I know, right? Is he too good to be true?” Sandy’s eyes went comically wide. “What if he’s a serial killer?”
“I mean, it’s possible, right?” she asked with concern, playing along. “You could be an episode of Dateline in a heartbeat.”
“That’d be just my luck.”
Talking to Sandy about her love life did a great job of occupying Charlie’s mind, and before she knew it, it was after noon, and Jules had popped by with a lunch delivery of turkey avocado wraps from EG’s.
“Not tonight’s special, but Emma said it’s a beautiful day out and she wanted everybody to eat wraps for lunch. Or some such weirdness.” Jules snorted a laugh and shrugged. “I just do what she tells me.”
“Let her know that Charlie will be over with coconut cream pie in a little while,” Sandy said, picking up the bag to take into the back.
“Will do.” Jules bounced out of the bakery and was gone.
In the kitchen area, Sandy pulled out three foil-wrapped tubes. Each had a little Post-it stuck to it.
Bethany, who had just arrived, put hers in the big refrigerator to eat later, then went out front to handle customers. Sandy handed Charlie her wrap.
Her Post-it read: Charlie—mayo instead of Italian dressing :-)
“How does Emma know you don’t like Italian dressing on yours?”
Totally innocent question, but she felt herself panic just slightly, then chastise herself, because why? Why the panic? She had nothing to be embarrassed about, and Sandy had poured her heart out earlier. Maybe it was time to do a little opening up herself.
“Emma and I have a history.” She could feel more than see Sandy’s brows rise.
“A history? What does that mean? You went to school together? You were friends? You dated?” Sandy chuckled as she unwrapped the foil on her lunch.
“Yes, yes, and yes.” Charlie swallowed hard, unwrapping her own lunch and carefully not looking at Sandy. Internally, she shook her head in dismay. Twenty-seven years old and still hesitant to come out to people. She exhaled and forced herself to take a bite of the wrap even though she was suddenly not all that hungry.
“You guys dated?” Sandy’s voice registered incredulity, which she immediately corrected with an upheld hand. “No, no. That came out wrong. God.” She covered her eyes and flushed, and her embarrassment was clear. “What I meant was it’s just that the idea of you guys together is kind of perfect. I’ve thought more than once that you’d make such a hot couple.” She laughed nervously, as if unsure whether she was fixing things or digging herself a deeper hole.
“Really?” Charlie smiled at that.
“Oh God, yes. You’re both so gorgeous. Her with all that beautiful hair and you with your unique eyes and terrific smile. You two would have beautiful babies.”
“Ha. If only it worked that way, right?”
Sandy nodded as she took a bite of her wrap and furrowed her brow like she was contemplating the Universe as she chewed. “So,” she ventured after swallowing, “tell me about the history. I know nothing.”
Charlie acknowledged the relief she felt knowing that neither her mother nor Emma had gossiped about this aspect of her life and sent up a silent word of gratitude.
“It’s a long story, but we’ve known each other since we were little kids. We were BFFs in school, did everything together, realized our sexuality together, and it was only natural that we’d become girlfriends.”
“You were each other’s firsts?” Sandy asked, and there was a slightly dreamy quality to her voice that made Charlie grin.
“We were. We were together through much of college, but we had started to drift. Being at different schools took its toll, and it’s hard to expand and learn and grow with somebody when you’re hours apart.” This part still made her sad, and she felt that old familiar veil of melanchol
y gently fall down over her story. “I guess I felt a little lost. Unsure of myself.” It was the first time Charlie had admitted that out loud, and she felt a little twinge of surprise. She took a breath and continued. “There was a businesswoman, an entrepreneur, who spoke at my college a few times while I was there and she…took a liking to me.” Ugh.
“In a business-y way or a personal way?” Sandy asked, and Charlie was amused.
“Both.”
“I see. Go on.” Sandy took another bite of her wrap and listened, looking enraptured by the story.
“Her name was Darcy Wells. She’s smart and beautiful and sexy and is a major success story, and she offered me a job at her marketing firm in Manhattan.”
“How do you not grab that, right?” Man, it sure seemed like Sandy got her. More gratitude.
“Exactly. But Emma was cautious. She was sure Darcy only wanted to get into my pants. Which was insulting, but because we’d already drifted so much—and I realize now, partly because I was insulted—I went ahead and took the job.”
“And?”
“And it was great, for a short time.”
Sandy held her gaze for a beat before asking her question. “Was Emma right?”
Charlie sighed. Chewed. Thought. “Yes and no is my answer to that.”
Sandy squinted. “Explain.”
The bell above the door tinkled, and Bethany glanced back at them as several customers filed in.
“Saved by the bell,” Sandy said and pointed at her. “Finish your lunch and my pies. We’ll revisit this another time.”
Was she relieved? She couldn’t tell. In the moment, it had felt good to talk about the whole thing. She hadn’t really told anybody the entire story since she’d gotten home. Not her mother. Not Amber. Everybody had snippets. Nobody had all the details, and part of her had been ready to finally supply them.
Ah, well.
Her turkey wrap was frigging delicious, and she allowed herself a moment she hadn’t taken earlier—a moment to think about the fact that Emma had made hers especially for her, the way she liked it.
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