The Trouble with Love
Page 10
“No,” Emma said. “I’ll give them a call on Monday.”
Her friends exchanged a look at Emma’s cavalier tone, but she truly wasn’t worried about it. Sure, most of her furniture had to go, and a good portion of her clothes had been tossed, but Camille’s apartment had everything she needed for the short term. Although, Emma had definitely ignored Camille’s insistence on taking the master bedroom. The smaller guest room would be just fine, and came with fewer horrific mental images of Camille and Kenny “doing it,” as Riley would say.
And while Emma couldn’t help but feel a little stressed by it all, there was also something very freeing about being forced to start over from scratch.
Despite the fact that she didn’t have a home and had only about five outfits to her name, Emma felt lighter than she had in months. Like something exciting was about to happen. Like, maybe, for the first time in…
“Did I tell you guys I have a date on Friday?” Emma blurted out.
“Yeah? Who with?” Grace asked.
Her friends looked curious, but not completely surprised. Emma might not have been looking for a relationship, but she did date occasionally. She liked getting dressed up. Liked conversation with men.
She liked sex, if the mood was right. Although it hardly ever was.
But this time…this time felt different.
Hopeful.
Emma fiddled with her wineglass. “His name’s Benedict. Camille set it up.”
“Camille?!” Julie said. “So that’s why she let you stay here. It was a bribe!”
Emma shrugged. “Basically.”
“Is he cute? And I thought you had forbidden us from setting you up on blind dates.” Grace said.
“Well, if you guys had a twenty-fourth-floor apartment overlooking Central Park to bargain with, maybe I would have reconsidered,” Emma said.
“Touché,” Riley mused, tapping her nails against the arm of the couch. “Want us to tag along on the date? We can hang out at the bar and work out some sort of SOS code if it all goes to hell.”
“What kind of dates have you been on that require an SOS code?” Emma asked.
“You’d be surprised, pet,” Riley said mysteriously. “You’d be surprised.”
“What are you going to wear?” Julie asked. “I saw what survived your apocalyptic flood adventure. The options aren’t great.”
Grace sat up straight. “Oooh, I think I just figured out what we could do with the rest of our day!”
Riley pointed to her glass. “I’m good with this. Day drinking’s legit when there’s fruit involved.”
Grace stood excitedly, gesturing for Riley to finish up. “Bottoms up, McKenna. We’re going shopping.”
Riley and Emma groaned as Julie squealed.
As far as shopping was concerned, their group was split down the middle. Grace and Julie practically lived at Bloomingdale’s, and their idea of a PMS cure was a stroll through Saks.
Riley and Emma, on the other hand, shopped only out of necessity. They enjoyed a good pair of Manolo Blahniks as much as the next girl, and they weren’t immune to one of those rare finds that made your boobs look huge and your waist look tiny, but there had to be a damn good reason for venturing out into a world of pushy salespeople, scary price tags, and unflattering dressing room lighting.
Unfortunately, today there was a good reason. Grace was right. Emma’s clothing options were dismal.
Emma looked at Riley apologetically.
“Fine,” Riley muttered, tossing back the rest of her drink. “But there will be lunch involved, right?”
“Yes, honey,” Julie said soothingly. “I’m sure we can find you a chunk of bread stuffed with pasta, topped with butter and cream.”
“Perfect.” Riley rubbed her ever flat, yet never satiated, stomach. “Maybe they can fry it.”
“I’m going to be sick,” Emma muttered, standing and gathering all of their glasses to take into kitchen.
“You’re from the south,” Riley said. “You’re supposed to be on my side on this. Don’t they eat delicious fried stuff down there?”
Emma ignored this. She didn’t like talking about her past life. Not if she could help it. Not since her engagement had exploded, courtesy of her drunken father, whom she barely spoke to these days. Not since she found out her sister, the dearest person in the world to Emma, had lied to her.
“Hey, can I ask a crass question?” Julie said as the four of them put on their coats and grabbed purses.
“Crass is sort of my shtick, but I’ll allow it,” Riley said.
Julie looked at Emma, her expression kind. “How are you on money? I think we’re all in agreement that you need to shop, but do you need to borrow something until the insurance reimbursement comes in?”
Emma glanced around at her friends, who all looked ready to sign over their life’s savings to her, if she’d just say the word.
She swallowed, feeling unusually emotional.
Emma had never been the type to wear her heart on her sleeve. Tears and physical affection and talking about feelings had been more her sister’s territory. Emma knew that on a good day, she was reserved. On a bad day, she’d definitely heard the term ice queen thrown around.
Sometimes it bothered her that just because she didn’t show her emotions, people somehow thought she didn’t have them.
And that simply wasn’t true. She felt things. Deeply.
Her friends exchanged a look at Emma’s cavalier tone, but she truly wasn’t worried about it. Sure, most of her furniture had to go, and a good portion of her clothes had been tossed, but Camille’s apartment had everything she needed for the short term. Although, Emma had definitely ignored Camille’s insistence on taking the master bedroom. The smaller guest room would be just fine, and came with fewer horrific mental images of Camille and Kenny “doing it,” as Riley would say.
And while Emma couldn’t help but feel a little stressed by it all, there was also something very freeing about being forced to start over from scratch.
Despite the fact that she didn’t have a home and had only about five outfits to her name, Emma felt lighter than she had in months. Like something exciting was about to happen. Like, maybe, for the first time in…
“Did I tell you guys I have a date on Friday?” Emma blurted out.
“Yeah? Who with?” Grace asked.
Her friends looked curious, but not completely surprised. Emma might not have been looking for a relationship, but she did date occasionally. She liked getting dressed up. Liked conversation with men.
She liked sex, if the mood was right. Although it hardly ever was.
But this time…this time felt different.
Hopeful.
Emma fiddled with her wineglass. “His name’s Benedict. Camille set it up.”
“Camille?!” Julie said. “So that’s why she let you stay here. It was a bribe!”
Emma shrugged. “Basically.”
“Is he cute? And I thought you had forbidden us from setting you up on blind dates.” Grace said.
“Well, if you guys had a twenty-fourth-floor apartment overlooking Central Park to bargain with, maybe I would have reconsidered,” Emma said.
“Touché,” Riley mused, tapping her nails against the arm of the couch. “Want us to tag along on the date? We can hang out at the bar and work out some sort of SOS code if it all goes to hell.”
“What kind of dates have you been on that require an SOS code?” Emma asked.
“You’d be surprised, pet,” Riley said mysteriously. “You’d be surprised.”
“What are you going to wear?” Julie asked. “I saw what survived your apocalyptic flood adventure. The options aren’t great.”
Grace sat up straight. “Oooh, I think I just figured out what we could do with the rest of our day!”
Riley pointed to her glass. “I’m good with this. Day drinking’s legit when there’s fruit involved.”
Grace stood excitedly, gesturing for Riley to finish up. “Bottoms up, McKenna. We’re going shopping.”
Riley and Emma groaned as Julie squealed.
As far as shopping was concerned, their group was split down the middle. Grace and Julie practically lived at Bloomingdale’s, and their idea of a PMS cure was a stroll through Saks.
Riley and Emma, on the other hand, shopped only out of necessity. They enjoyed a good pair of Manolo Blahniks as much as the next girl, and they weren’t immune to one of those rare finds that made your boobs look huge and your waist look tiny, but there had to be a damn good reason for venturing out into a world of pushy salespeople, scary price tags, and unflattering dressing room lighting.
Unfortunately, today there was a good reason. Grace was right. Emma’s clothing options were dismal.
Emma looked at Riley apologetically.
“Fine,” Riley muttered, tossing back the rest of her drink. “But there will be lunch involved, right?”
“Yes, honey,” Julie said soothingly. “I’m sure we can find you a chunk of bread stuffed with pasta, topped with butter and cream.”
“Perfect.” Riley rubbed her ever flat, yet never satiated, stomach. “Maybe they can fry it.”
“I’m going to be sick,” Emma muttered, standing and gathering all of their glasses to take into kitchen.
“You’re from the south,” Riley said. “You’re supposed to be on my side on this. Don’t they eat delicious fried stuff down there?”
Emma ignored this. She didn’t like talking about her past life. Not if she could help it. Not since her engagement had exploded, courtesy of her drunken father, whom she barely spoke to these days. Not since she found out her sister, the dearest person in the world to Emma, had lied to her.
“Hey, can I ask a crass question?” Julie said as the four of them put on their coats and grabbed purses.
“Crass is sort of my shtick, but I’ll allow it,” Riley said.
Julie looked at Emma, her expression kind. “How are you on money? I think we’re all in agreement that you need to shop, but do you need to borrow something until the insurance reimbursement comes in?”
Emma glanced around at her friends, who all looked ready to sign over their life’s savings to her, if she’d just say the word.
She swallowed, feeling unusually emotional.
Emma had never been the type to wear her heart on her sleeve. Tears and physical affection and talking about feelings had been more her sister’s territory. Emma knew that on a good day, she was reserved. On a bad day, she’d definitely heard the term ice queen thrown around.
Sometimes it bothered her that just because she didn’t show her emotions, people somehow thought she didn’t have them.
And that simply wasn’t true. She felt things. Deeply.
