The After of Us (Judge Me Not #4)(37)

I reply, probably a little too quickly, “I couldn’t agree more.”

Will peers over at me, like he’s trying to figure out what’s in my head. But he’ll never know, not when things are this uncertain between us.

Finally, he says, “We should probably go somewhere where we’re not alone.”

He’s right. The urge to be together again is just too strong.

“Where do you want to go?” I ask.

Standing, he offers me his hand. “How about we go see a movie?”

Before I take his hand, and because I have a shred of dignity left, I raise a brow. “Is this a date?”

“Do you want this to be a date?”

I nod. “I think so.”

Chuckling, Will says, “Then, yes, it’s a date.”

I take his hand.



One date leads to two, and then two to three. And, soon enough, Will and I are officially “dating.” We do as agreed, too—we take things slowly. That means no sex, which isn’t easy for either of us.

Thank God we can still kiss like crazy, seeing as I love kissing Will Gartner. He’s so good at it. He has a way of making me feel like I’m sexy and beautiful and he needs to devour me.

We kiss a lot—in Will’s car, on my sofa, outside the cinema, on the sidewalks in front of restaurants—everywhere, really. As far as I’m concerned, his lips can’t be on me nearly enough.

We also learn to savor the tease and the promise of more. I know when we’re together again it will be amazing, especially since we’re building a friendship first this time around.

But friendship is far from Will’s mind when, during one of our heated make-out sessions, this particular one occurring on my sofa, he groans in my ear, “I can’t wait much longer, Emma. I f*cking want you so much.”

It’s not his words alone that make me almost give in. No, it’s the wanton need and lust in his tone, and the way he’s grinding into me.

I fight to remain strong. The wait will be worth it, I remind myself.

Kissing along Will’s freshly shaven jaw, I whisper, “Not yet,”—he groans—“but soon.”

A flurry of hot kisses is then deposited on one cheek and down my neck.

And finally, against my collarbone, Will whispers what I’ve longed to hear, “You’re making me fall for you, Emma Metzger.”

“Good,” I whisper back. “Because I’ve already fallen for you, Will Gartner.”





Will



I like Emma, I do. We go to movies and restaurants and binge-watch TV shows at her apartment. Most nights, though, we only make it through an episode or two. We grow restless, distracted by each other and the extreme passion between us. Those times, we kiss and grind on the sofa, leaving me to have to take care of things for myself back at the farmhouse. Christ, it’s like being a teen again.

But I like this waiting. Being with Emma the next time will be worth it.

Okay, okay, yes, she’s also becoming important to me. And because of that we start to do a lot with Lily. My daughter adores Emma, and why wouldn’t she? Emma treats Lily like she’s her own. It’s not an act, either. I really believe Emma loves my little Lil.

Other things are good too.

On the work front, apart from my job with Chase, I land a cool freelance gig. It’s just a small job for a regional food chain, but still, it’s a start. The company’s marketing people want me to come up with a summer advertising campaign, one highlighting how very kid-friendly the chain is.

After a long day at one of Chase’s work sites, I stop by the farmhouse, take a quick shower, and, with Lily in tow, head over to Emma’s place. The plan is to brainstorm with her about which direction I should take with this advertising project.

An hour later, with storyboards spread across the coffee table in her living room, Emma and I fall into a heated debate on whether to include the chain’s famous talking brownie in the campaign.

“The talking brownie is in all the campaigns, Will,” Emma says, insistent that this is the way to go.

“That’s exactly why I think we should mix it up and ditch the brownie,” I counter.

“Kids love that brownie, though. And this campaign is supposed to focus on the kid’s menu, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, I guess.” I run my hand through my hair, at an impasse. “Let’s ask Lily what she thinks,” I suggest.

Lily is on the floor, coloring some random cartoon character in a coloring book.

“Hey, Lil,” I say. “Can I ask you a question?”

Without looking up, she replies in a totally serious voice, “I’m kinda busy.”

I snicker. The girl is too much sometimes.

“Well, when you have a minute, Daddy needs your input.”

She peers up at me. “What in-put mean?”

I love her endless curiosity. “It’s like an opinion.”

She taps a crayon to her chin, and I just about lose it. She’s seen me do that move a hundred times when I’m working through something. Not with a crayon, but usually with a pen, or a colored pencil, often when I’m drawing with her.

Emma grabs my arm and squeezes. “She’s such a mini-you,” she whispers, her free hand flying to her mouth to suppress a giggle.