The After of Us (Judge Me Not #4)(32)

It’s a desperate move, and Missy calls me out on it. “Don’t run after him, Emma.” She sighs, knowing all too well the heartache we women sometimes have to endure. “Men do things according to a whole different schedule than us. Your two days without hearing from him probably feels like two minutes to him.”

“Apparently,” I scoff.

“Just let him call you, okay?”

Sighing, I get to what’s really bugging me.

“I wouldn’t care so much, Missy, if he hadn’t been leaving. But not calling…or texting…or saying good-bye in any way.” I exhale loudly. “I just don’t know. Maybe something happened, right?”

“Emma.” Her tone is a warning.

I know my cousin has my best interest at heart, but my own heart wants something completely different. “What if he doesn’t call, like, ever again?”

“Then let him go.”

The regret I feel makes me wish I’d done things differently on our last night together. “I never did get to kiss him,” I lament.

Missy sighs. She thinks I’m being ridiculous, and maybe I am. But one thing’s for sure—I won’t allow myself to be in this position of what-ifs next time around.

“I’m telling you now, Missy,” I proclaim, ready to back up my thought.

“What’s that, hon?”

“If I ever have a second chance with Will, I’m going for it. No more holding back, in any way. I’m tired of waiting for things to happen in my life.”

Oh, jeez, and if she only knew the half of it.

I vow then and there not to mess up a second chance with Will. I plan to kiss him, and to let him take my v—

“Emma, listen…” Missy trails off, distracted, as her kids begin arguing in the background.

She then has to hang up.

An hour later, I’m hanging out on the sofa, clad in skimpy sleep shorts and a hot pink cropped tee. It’s warm in the apartment on this muggy summer evening and the less clothes, the better. I grab a handful of chips from a crumpled bag sitting next to me and stuff them in my mouth.

Yes, this is my sad attempt to drown out all thoughts of Will Gartner. Reality TV and potato chips seem to be doing the trick.

I finish off the bag, and then run to the bathroom to pee and brush my teeth. Returning to the sofa to resume watching Kim and Khloe argue about something, as sisters are known to do, I am suddenly startled by a knock on my apartment door.

“Huh?”

I’m not expecting any guests since it is well after nine on a Sunday night. Who knows, though? Maybe Missy got the kids settled and decided to stop by to cheer me up?

I get up off the sofa and walk over to peer through the peephole….and…well. “Oh, shit. It’s Will.”

My thoughts are everywhere, all at once.

What’s Will doing here?

Coming to see you, obviously, you fool.

But…but…why isn’t he in New York? He should be there by now, right?

Who the hell cares?! Let him in!

I’m about to burst with joy that Will’s still in town, but I won’t allow such a thing till I find out why. Deciding the best course of action is to play it cool, for now, I open the door a small crack, effectively keeping my skimpily clad body hidden.

“Hello, Will,” I say tightly. “Imagine seeing you here.”

He shoots me one of his boyishly handsome smiles. No, don’t do that. “Yes, imagine.”

Don’t let him woo you so easily, girl.

Since I never told Will where my apartment was located, and random small talk should do the trick of making me appear blasé, I say, “So, how’d you know where I live?”

“I asked Kay.”

“Oh.”

So much for that diversion tactic.

Will folds his arms across his broad chest, making the navy tee he has on stretch tightly across his solid pecs.

Why the hell must he look so good?

Swallowing the appreciative sigh that threatens to reveal me, I blurt out in a rush of words, “Uh, I’m sorry, but I just can’t do this. I thought you’d be up in New York by now. Did you change your flight or something? Was there a delay?”

“Not exactly,” he says slowly.

When he peers past me into the apartment, I realize how rude it is to keep him standing outside. “Oh, do you want to come in?”

“Sure.”

I open the door the whole way so he can come in, but he falters as he’s afforded a clear, unobstructed view of what I’m wearing. Or, rather, how little I’m wearing.

His hungry gaze travels up my bare legs and exposed midriff, warming me in all the right ways.

Damn, no more pretending. I want Will as much as he seems to want me. And the dynamite between us is threatening to explode.

Clearing my throat, I say, “So, about New York…”

“I didn’t go. And that’s why I’m here. I want to talk to you about something, Emma.”

I can’t resist a touch of smart-assery, especially since I’m still not sure what, besides our insane chemistry, is going on with us.

“What exactly do you want to talk about? Did you feel the need to come all the way over to my apartment to tell me you missed your flight or something?”

With a chuckle, he replies, “I didn’t miss my flight. This visit is about a little more than that.”