Maybe Later(21)

“You got all that from just the scribbles?”

“There’s an entire history behind everything,” I say, reading the first pages, remembering the first time I read this book.

“Emily,” Kara calls me. “I’m back.”

The guy with dark complexion, gorgeous eyes, and square jaw frowns at me. As if he’s slightly bummed that I wasn’t somebody else. You’re not the only one who’d want me to be different, buddy. Get in line, my parents would be thrilled to give you the spark notes.

“Emily,” he repeats, studying me.

The air thickens with tension. He stares at me with intense curiosity.

Any other woman might be fascinated by the attention he’s giving me, but to me, it’s unnerving. I’m not used to having someone looking at me so closely, let alone such a handsome man. This time the sweep seems a little seductive, not just concerned. He gives me a crooked smile.

“You don’t look like an Emily.”

“It’s actually Emmeline,” I correct him. “She called me Emily for an entire conversation, and I didn’t have the heart to correct her. I answer to several names. One more doesn’t affect me.”

“What other names do you use?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I ask using a flirty tone I don’t recognize.

It’s been a long time since I’ve even tried to make a friend, let alone try to engage in … more, like flirting with a man this gorgeous. But who wouldn’t want to discover how Mr. Too-Hot-For-This-World kisses?

“I do,” he says, checking his watch. “I have to go, but can we get coffee another time?”

“Coffee?” I swallow hard, surprised by the invitation.

Swipe left, swipe left. This is not a drill. Also, this is no Tinder, Em.

Fuck, I forgot that in real life there’s no swiping. You say yes or no—in person. Looking at the hot specimen closely, I conclude that I want to say yes. When was the last time I got laid?

“Jack,” he says, extending his hand.

I meet his hand.

Suddenly, I feel dizzy, and I clearly hear the cracking sound of electricity surrounding us. The pit of my stomach tightens. Yep, he’s tall, dark, and dangerous to my health. I don’t handle attraction very well. Or at all. I tend to run away when I come face to face with what could become a real relationship.

Em, find your courage.

“What should I call you? Emmeline?”

“Em,” I offer.

He pulls out his phone, taps it, and hands it to me. “Em, could I have your phone number?”

No, I’m not ready for a date. When will I be ready for that? Try never.

“Of course,” I say, and I type my personal number into his phone.

“It’s nice meeting you, Em.”

You haven’t dated in years. What are you gonna do? I have two options, call my carrier and change my number or go out on … is this even a date?

“Jack, is this a date?”

He looks at me and chuckles.

“See you next weekend, Em.” He winks at me and leans down to whisper in my ear. “Yes, officially our first date.”

Em: I met someone.

Laura: Alastair says he’s happy for you, but we’re on a date.

Laura: That was him, not me. Call me.

Em: I won’t call you. Just know I might go on a date next week—with a real man. Love you guys.





Chapter Ten





Jack


Wednesday, April 20th, 6:43 p.m.



I can’t help but laugh as I read the note that Amy included with my pizza:



Are you sure you want to eat this instead of going home?

A

P. S. I added extra cheese, you might want to wake up early tomorrow to run a few extra miles.



I still don’t understand why she changed my Reuben sandwich, but hasn’t messed with my pizza. Meat Lovers with Asiago cheese. It’s like she knows my limits. Not even Carla knew me this well. I have to give it to evil-assistant, she is good. Better than any other person who has worked for me.

Settling back into my seat, I take another bite of pizza, glancing at my computer. Is it crazy that I don’t want to delegate this project? While my brother was in the hospital, I learned about a kid who only spoke to A.I.s, and it reminded me of Amy who thinks I’m working on perfecting them. I wouldn’t dare to focus on these kinds of projects, but creating something that can help children with Autism socialize, seems like a good use of my time. It’s become my project. Something I can’t do during working hours since I have so much on my plate.

Jason is right, I need a break, I need to find people I can trust. Amy had it right from the beginning, I don’t trust many—not even my employees. I should try harder to change, even get out there, like I did last week. I smile as I think of the woman, Emmeline, who I met last week, her beautiful dark hair braided on the side and those big brown eyes hiding behind the quirky purple glasses.

Staring into those bright eyes was like sinking into a dark night illuminated by bright stars. She seemed so happy and full of life. Even if she was reserved. I’m still not sure what to make of her. She wore an old BU sweatshirt, a beanie hat, a pair of tight jeans hugging her tight, round ass let me see her toned legs. She was breathtaking.