The After of Us (Judge Me Not #4)(19)

Chase places his hand on my back and urges me to, “Come on, get in,” as he slides open the minivan door Kay just shut.

I balk. Lily, Jack, and Sarah are all buckled in their car seats, but they’re still hyper as hell, bouncing around everywhere. These kids are far too lively for the early morning hour.

“You expect me to sit in the back with all the kids?” I glance over at the rental car. “I think I’ll just follow you to church.”

Chase gives me a shove. “No, we’re already running late. Just get in the back. There’s no room for you up front.”

Now I know what Chase meant when he told Lily I’d receive a “suitable punishment” for swearing in front of her.

“You’re such an *, dude,” I whisper, so the kids don’t hear me swear again.

As I reluctantly crawl into the only open space, the seat next to Lily, I hear Chase laughing.

“I’m glad this is so amusing for you, Chase. Just wait. I’ll think of some way to get you back. And when I do…”

Chase appears not to be one bit worried. “Yeah, good luck with that,” he tells me as he slides the door closed in my face.

Just as I’m conjuring up ideas to make my big bro pay, Lily reaches over and takes my hand. It’s the sweetest gesture, something simple and pure. And with that, I abandon all plans to get Chase back, because I then realize that putting me in the back with the kids was never meant as a punishment. Sitting next to my little girl, her hand secured in mine, is truly a gift.





Emma



Will Gartner. What a dick. Okay, not really. But I need to tell myself that or I’ll succumb to his charm, like I did back when I was fifteen years old.

I put myself out there, made a move so we could be alone at that stupid wedding reception. And what happened? Will didn’t want to kiss me, despite the fact I practically threw myself at him. Ugh. I’d never felt more unattractive in my life. Will Gartner was gorgeous—probably still is—and he shut me down.

Nonetheless, for some inexplicable reason, I’ve thought about him often since then. I guess there was just something about him, a crazy, but undeniable, connection that I haven’t felt since then…with anyone. There was no one like Will at college, and certainly not anyone like him here in Harmony Creek.

Do connections like that stand the test of time, though?

Guess I’ll find out soon enough, seeing as Will is back in Harmony Creek, with a kid this time. He apparently has a daughter named Lily, who he didn’t know existed until three days ago.

Kay filled me in with an overview of the situation last night when she called. She was somewhat cagey on the details, but I understood why. She wants to try to paint her brother-in-law in the best light.

Still, the facts are the facts. Will got some girl pregnant back when he was sixteen, probably a result of a one-night stand. Let’s face it, a guy as devastatingly handsome as Will surely has—and had—girls throwing themselves at him. Hell, even teenage-me wanted him. Though, in my innocence, I was only hoping for a kiss.

Now that I think on it, no wonder Will rejected me. I must’ve seemed so pathetic to him, batting my eyelashes, trying to flirt in my teen-girl na?ve style. What a fool I was.

And why should now be any different? I’m still not exactly Miss Experienced.

Out behind the school, I kneel down by a flower bed I am slowly filling with beautiful blooms. Frustrated by all this thinking about Will, I grind the trowel I’ve been holding deeper in the dirt.

With that task completed, I set the little shovel down, and then loosen the roots on a small impatiens plant. At last, I plop the tiny flower into the hole I’ve created.

I’m strategically hidden from view of the churchgoers this morning, on purpose. Once Kay filled me in on what was happening, that Will wanted to talk to me after church about putting his daughter in my daycare program, I decided to skip mass.

Truth is I’m just not ready to see Will.

I mean, what if I’m still interested in him? Based on the fact he never once tried to reach out to me during any of his prior visits to Ohio—though, in his defense, they were few and far between—I can only assume he’s forgotten all about me.

So why can’t I forget about him?

How do men even do that—get under your skin and stay there for ages?

Focus on the flowers, Emma.

Father Maridale, my boss, has been bugging me to plant flowers behind the school. And luckily the greenhouse was opened bright and early this morning. I stopped by and purchased four flats of impatiens, in varying colors, that were just screaming for a home in the flower beds. The plants I’m working with at the moment have coral blooms.

But I’m running out of coral, which means a flat of white impatiens is in order, to add a contrasting row.

Crap. I couldn’t carry all the flowers to the back of the school, so if I want white impatiens, it’s going to require a dash to my car.

I stand and smooth back strands of raven hair that have fallen from my long ponytail. It’s then I notice how filthy my hands have become. “Yuck,” I mutter.

I’m probably sporting nice dirt smudges on my cheeks, too.

Oh well, I don’t plan on running into anyone, I remind myself.

Still, just in case, I wipe the rest of the dirt from my hands down the sides of my faded jean shorts. And then I hurry over to where I parked my car, around the far side of the building, away from prying eyes.