The After of Us (Judge Me Not #4)(20)

At my Mini Cooper, I grab the flat filled with white impatiens from the backseat, and then bop back over to the flower bed as quickly as I can.

But then . . . “Damn.”

As I round the side of the building, I see I’m about to be discovered, and by the one person I’ve been hoping to avoid for a little while longer.

Yep, the good-looking guy, standing with his hands in the pant pockets of what appears to be a well-tailored suit, and seemingly assessing my work in the flower bed, is none other than Will Gartner.

And, dammit, he still gives me butterflies in my stomach. “Why?” I groan.

He must hear my lamenting, since he spins around to face me. “Emma?” he says, lifting what I hope is an appreciative brow as he scans me from head to toe.

When he stops to linger on my bare legs, I return the favor and ogle him.

Will Gartner is as hot as ever—maybe hotter. He’s taller than I remember, over six feet for sure. And those shoulders, they’re broader than before. Wow. Will sure did grow up. He’s clearly all man these days, and Lord help me, I’m more smitten than ever.

“Hi, Will,” I squeak out.

Striking green eyes that melted me seven years ago crinkle at the edges as he smiles over at me.

He takes a step toward me…and then another. I can tell as he nears that he’s still checking me out, though he’s trying to be sly about it.

I don’t care. Truth is, I love the attention, his attention. A traitorous part of me—my libido that’s screaming for me to acknowledge that I’m more insanely attracted to Will than ever—applauds me for wearing super-short shorts and a cute navy V-neck tee that’s tight in all the right places.

Was I subconsciously hoping to run into Will today, despite my sorry attempt to avoid him? Yeah, I probably was.

I suddenly remember the flowers in my hands and hastily set the flat on the ground.

“It’s good to see you again,” Will says, his voice far smoother and more confident than I remember.

“It’s been a long time,” I murmur, wiping my hands down the sides of my shorts. Why do they feel so sweaty suddenly?

“It has,” he agrees.

Our eyes meet, and I know he’s remembering that night at the wedding reception, so long ago. Is that regret I see? Does he wish he’d kissed me way back then? The fire’s still there, that’s for sure.

I suddenly want Will to kiss me, right here, right now. But that’d be ridiculous, right?

Tearing my gaze from what must be the most hypnotizing eyes, like, ever, I say softly, “It’s nice to see you again, too.”

Lame, but it’s not a lie. As much as I was hoping I wouldn’t still feel so strongly about Will, I’m kind of glad I do. Because he makes me feel…

What?

So damn alive, that’s what. And that strong wave of emotion, and tingling excitement, is exactly what I liked about him all those years ago, and also the reason why I was so appalled when he rejected me.

Would he reject me today, though?

So much has changed; we’re no longer bumbling teens.

I smile over at him. He smiles right the hell back, warming me in places other than my heart, and I conclude: I don’t think he would reject me, not today.

Enough, though! Really, this is crazy. But is anything ever sensible when lust is involved?

“So”—I clear my throat, refocusing on why Will actually sought me out—“I heard you wanted to talk to me.”

“Yeah, yeah, I do.” He takes a step back suddenly, like he needs some space to think more clearly.

Good, I want to affect him like he affects me.

“It’s about my daughter, Lily,” he continues. “She’s going to be staying with Chase and Kay for a couple of weeks, while I get settled in New York City. I thought maybe she could spend a couple of mornings each week at the daycare. You know, to give Kay a break and all.”

Whoa, wait. I’m suddenly very annoyed with Will. When I was seven my father left one day, just up and took off, out of the blue. I later learned he ran off with a woman he’d been having a long-term affair with. In any case, the specifics don’t matter. What matters is he never came back. And to this day, he barely keeps in touch with me.

How freaking abandoned I felt back then.

Wait, check that. I still feel abandoned by that jerk. Fifteen years have passed, and his leaving still stings.

Those dredged-up emotions make me empathize with Lily, and I say, voice tight, “How old is Lily, anyway? Five, right?”

Will nods slowly, like he’s not sure what’s causing this suddenly cool attitude of mine. “Yeah, she’s five,” he confirms.

Shaking my head disapprovingly, I tell him, “You shouldn’t leave her, Will. Didn’t you just recently discover she’s yours?”

Now a little cool himself, he says, “Sounds like Kay told you everything.”

Hands on my hips, I reply, “Not everything, but enough. Don’t be mad at her, though. You think word of Lily won’t get out around here?” I let out a scoffing noise. “We’re a small town, Will. Everyone finds out everything, eventually.”

“Clearly,” he says, his tone thick with irritation.

I’m getting to him. Good.

“Anyway,” I continue, “what I’m trying to say is that two weeks are bound to feel like two months to a little kid. And what if it takes you longer than a couple of weeks to get things set up?”