Be the Girl(48)

We’re halfway to the main street when Murphy lifts his nose to sniff the air. He stops to peer over his shoulder and a stripe of hair rises along his back.

“What’s up, buddy?” I follow his line of sight to see the tall form jogging toward us in a long-sleeved shirt and track pants.

My stomach flutters the way it always does in that first moment of spotting Emmett.

I scratch behind Murphy’s ear in a soothing way. “It’s okay, he’s our friend.”

Emmett comes to a stop five feet away. “Hey,” he offers, a touch breathless. His hair is untamed, as if he just rolled out of bed. “Your mom said you were out walking him.” He leans down to let Murphy sniff his hand before giving the top of his head a pat.

Emmett went to my house looking for me. Why?

“So, obviously, Zach got you and Cassie home all right?”

It takes me another beat to push aside my question. “After he stopped to buy a bag of weed from his dealer, yeah.”

Emmett’s eyes widen.

“I’m kidding.”

His shoulders sink with his chuckle. “I was gonna say …”

“Thanks again, for taking me to the fair. It was fun. Hey! Murph!”

The dog has found a scent trail and is tugging me down the sidewalk with surprising strength.

Emmett falls into step beside me. “I’m sorry about how the night ended.”

I take a deep breath, stuck halfway between wanting to ask what happened and never wanting to hear his answer. But I need to know. “How’d it go?”

He pushes a hand through his wild hair, sending it into further disarray. “Exactly the way I expected it to go.”

Which means … We turn right at the end of the street. And I wait for him to elaborate, holding my breath.

“It was a long night.” He shakes his head, his eyes wandering over the quiet houses. “Three hours of sitting in Holly’s car in the Tim Hortons parking lot while she cried and said sorry over and over again and tried to—” He presses his lips together to cut his words off, and dips his head, a sheepish look filling his face.

I can only imagine how that sentence might end, and it likely involved roving hands and eager lips.

A flash of memory—of being pressed against that broad chest, our hearts pounding against each other, his mint-laced breath skating across my mouth—hits me then and my cheeks burn, even as my stomach roils.

I give Murphy’s leash a light tug and he continues on, moseying along the sidewalk at a leisurely pace, only to pause another five feet away to sniff at a shrub.

“She gave me some lame excuse about being caught up in the moment and having a crappy day.” He chuckles but the ring of humor is absent. “She actually tried to give me the Leafs tickets for our anniversary. She thinks there’s still a chance we’d get back together. But how can I ever trust what’s going on inside her head? I mean, you heard her. You heard what she said about Cassie and Jen … and you. That didn’t sound like being caught up in the moment.”

More importantly, it doesn’t sound like they reconciled last night, a realization that leaves me struggling to keep the smile of relief from showing.

It’s a few seconds before I realize he’s waiting for me to say something.

“Maybe she feels she needs to act a certain way with her friends?” I offer halfheartedly, because agreeing too quickly with him would be self-serving.

“And what does that say about her choice in friends? No. I’m done with Holly. I think she finally figured that out by the time she dropped me off.”

“What time was that?”

“Late. After one.” He pauses. “You were sitting in the window.”

“I fell asleep there.” I reach up with my free hand to rub the back of my sore neck.

“Figured. You know, with all the drool.”

My mouth drops open. “I was not drooling!”

“Oh, yeah. There was this big gob, dripping down here.” He reaches out to drag his finger playfully down my chin, earning a swat and my laugh.

“Like you’d be able to see drool from down there anyway.” My mind searches my vague, sleepy memory of coming to, curled in a ball, my face cold from the glass. There could have been drool.

“You like that spot, don’t you?”

Yes, because I can watch you. “It’s comfortable. And it’s kind of neat that Uncle Merv built it for my mom, and she used to read there too. My room back home was boring. A rectangle with two plain windows, and stucco on the ceiling. Painted lavender. But this one has personality. I like it.”

“Do you miss it? Calgary, I mean.”

“No,” I say without missing a beat.

“Really?” He hesitates. “Your dad still lives out there, doesn’t he?” He’s fishing for information.

“Yeah, but he has a new family and he has no interest in being a part of my life anymore, beyond the required monthly child support payment.” I feel Emmett’s gaze on my profile but I keep my eyes on Murphy as he sniffs around a bramble of bushes.

“He sounds like a loser.”

I swallow the rising lump and give the leash another light tug. “He wasn’t always that way. But things happen, people change.”

“Not parents. They’re not supposed to change like that.”