Emma giggles. “Prisoners in our own homes.”
I chuckle. “Pretty much.”
“Not that I’m not happy you called, but why did you call? Because I can’t have phone sex right now.”
Shaking my head, I smile. “I’m not sure.”
“Wow. Deep,” she deadpans.
“No, I mean—” I hesitate. “My sister ran into my ex-wife when she was in London.”
There’s a pause on the other line. “Okay.”
“She told me she’s moved on and is extremely happy.” I rub my face, trying to get to the fucking point. “What I’m trying to say is, I wanted to let you know because we’re dating, and I didn’t want them or anyone else to tell you that I knew about her new life.”
A light laugh leaves her, hitting me directly in the dick and chest simultaneously. Fuck. Me. “Thanks for telling me. Are you okay?”
Of course, Emma’s going to ask me if I’m okay. She doesn’t sound jealous or worried over us at all, only about me and my feelings.
“I’m good. More than good. I’m great.” I sigh. “We’ve both moved on, and we’re both happy.”
“Good.” Her tone is light. “Damn. They’re calling me from the other room. I’ll text you later?”
“I should get going too, and yes, text me later.”
“Okay.”
“Okay. And, Emma?”
“Yeah?”
I look up at the ceiling, already cringing at myself. “I kind of miss you, too.”
“Happy Thanksgiving, Grayson.” From the way she said that, I can tell she has a huge smile on her face.
“Happy Thanksgiving, Princess.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
EMMA
“Okay, people! We have counted the votes for all six open positions. Everyone who applied for these positions wrote down that they’d be honored to act as editor in chief.” Amelia rolls her eyes. “Not that that’s much of a surprise.”
“Wait, six?” I ask Ben. “I thought there were only five.”
“Didn’t you hear? A?—”
“Ben and Emma, put a lid on it,” Amelia calls out.
We both fall quiet like children who have been scolded by their mother.
Amelia told me last week that only five positions on the editorial board were open. It was disappointing when I saw that the only other editorial position I was interested in was in opinions, since features wasn’t available. It’s not ideal, but it will look great on my résumé. Everyone submitted their portfolios and a self-edited sample piece on Monday. Since then, we’ve been waiting three days for everyone to vote. I was surprised when Samantha threw her hat in the ring. She hasn’t had a front-page piece in a month and has gotten kind of lazy.
“Let’s announce the one that everyone’s been waiting for, shall we?” Amelia opens the envelope and smiles. “Nextsemester’s editor in chief of theDriscoll Wolf Weeklyis Oliver Jones.”
Well, shoot. Oliver is wide-eyed next to Amelia while everyone cheers him on. I smile because the little bastard deserves it. I clap along with everyone else, happy for Oliver.
“Sorry,” Ben says in my ear. “I know you wanted it.”
