Mine Would Be You (64)

I walk over, seeing the familiar cover of Poze staring back at me. “Jackson.” I hold one up, and he turns to look at me, crossing his arms over his bare chest with a grin. The stack is ridiculously high, and I can’t even begin to guess how many copies he bought. “What in the world is this?”

He shrugs. “I bought them.”

“Why so many?”

“I’ve been passing them around at work, the whole building, to my coworkers and my clients. Even took them to the pizza shop.” The coffeemaker churns in the background as I just stare at him.

“You’re just handing out random fashion magazines?”

He pulls out two mugs. “Well, I bookmarked your article in each one.”

Speechless, I just stare at him before looking at the pile and sure enough, seeing a little tiny sticky note at the top of each and every magazine. “I don’t—why would you do this?”

“Well,” he moves towards me, “One, because I wanted to. Two, if I buy all of them no one else can read your work, and three, because you deserve it, and everyone so far has loved it. The article was brilliant.”

“You actually read it?” My shock only grows. He raises a brow, and I think if Jackson says he’s going to do something, he does it. I’ve never had that before. Besides my parents, no one ever cared about my work this much.

Stepping forward, I look at him, the golden energy around him, the daylight practically drawn to him, and I wrap my arms around his waist, falling into his warmth.

I think I might like this; I think I could stay like this forever.

• • •

“Valentina Scott, if you don’t tell me everything, I will kill you.” Sloan’s voice is clear as day through my earphones as I walk down the crowded street.

I roll my eyes, adjusting my small shoulder bag. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

“He met your parents, and you spent the night.” She fights back. “It was a big deal, and I want you to tell me.”

Quickly, when the traffic pauses, I cross the street, leaving one block until Aroma Café, where I’m meeting Emma. “All right, all right. I have to go. I’ll tell you later.”

“Tonight?”

“Yes, pinky promise.”

“Okay, great. I love you,” she says, and I just know she’s grinning.

“Yeah, yeah, I love you too,” I say before hanging up the phone.

Ignoring the small crowd of people waiting for a table or a seat at the trendy bar top, I head to the hostess and give her the name of the reservation. She nods and grabs two menus. I arrived five minutes early just so I could be here first. There’s really no reason for me to be so nervous or for my heart to be pounding in my chest, but it is.

I sit down, immediately taking a sip of one of the waters already placed on the table, close my eyes, and force myself to take a deep breath. When I open them, Emma is walking towards me. Her hair is half pulled back, with the rest of the long strands flowing behind her. Her eyes search around the restaurant, a smile forming when she sees me.

I greet her in a brief hug before pulling back. “Hi, how are you?” I adjust my seat, crossing and uncrossing my legs under the table.

Emma smiles, slipping her bag to hang on the edge of her chair. “I’m good, I’m good. Just life. You?”

I nod knowingly. “I feel you. Work has been insane this week.” She moves to respond, but the waiter comes over to greet us before she can. After we both order drinks, coffee for both of us, a brief silence falls, and I build up the nerve.

“I’m so sorry, Emma.” I shake my head, trying not to tap my nails on the table. “I’m so sorry. For everything.”

She furrows her brows. “Nina, you didn’t do anything wrong.” I open my mouth to argue. “No, I’m serious. In no way is any of this your fault. Myles is the one who said you were old friends; Myles is the one who threw a fit and attacked you for moving on and blew up at his best friend. Not you.”

My eyes focus on the water in my hand instead of Emma’s completely understanding and far too forgiving smile. “I’m still sorry.”

“Well don’t be. Please.”

I nod slowly. “How is everything, since then?”

She bites her lip, taking a slow sip of water. “It’s been something. Obviously, it hasn’t been that long, but we’ve had a few serious talks.” I raise a brow; the Myles I knew and the one I’ve seen recently doesn’t do serious or logical. “At first, I didn’t know what to ask or how to even understand what he was feeling. But I asked if it was a shock thing or something more.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “And?” My heart pounds.

“He said it was shock. I’m not excusing him, but he’s been open and honest about everything. We’ve gotten in a few fights since, and he’s apologized a million times. We’ve also started talking to a counselor. Together and separate. I always wanted to before we got married, we just never had time. But I told him it was something I needed.”

“What did he say to that?”

She quirks her head, her eyes focusing on the table. “He agreed. We’ve gone twice already. I told him he needs to talk to you and Jackson and grow up. Make amends and all that.”

Make amends. I guess we’ll see about that. Before I can respond, our coffees are placed on the table, and we order our food. As I thank the waiter, I’m focused on the sad, nervous energy that’s emitting off of Emma. I pat her hand until she looks up.