Page 27 of Falling for Keeps

“How’s that going?” Emma asks. Last we’d talked, she was sassy about my lack of commitment at the bar. Is she not mad at me anymore? She’s acting friendlier than I expected.

“Fine. Could be better.” I rub a hand over my eyes, hoping to scrub the image of her in that dress from them, but it’s burned into my brain. “I’m not sure painting walls is my favorite thing, but I was hoping to get this done before my mom gets home from work so she won’t jump in and help. She’s done enough already.”

“If there’s anyone who deserves to put her feet up at the end of the day, it’s Sharon Price.” Emma checks her phone, presumably to see the time. “If you give me ten minutes to change, I can come help you finish.”

Penny jumps up on her toes, her injuries wholly forgotten. “Yes! Then I can do your nails when my room is finished!”

Emma laughs, glancing at me, but she doesn’t say anything to reject the idea. She’s leaving the ball entirely in my court, which I appreciate. She’s respecting my position and authority as Penny’s parent, even while making my daughter fall in love with her. My gut immediately wants to accept her help, but my brain is smart enough to recognize the dangers associated with opening the door—even a little—to this woman.

“You need to get cleaned up, Pen.” I point to her scrapes. “We should put some antibacterial ointment on those before Nana comes home and sees them untreated.”

“Come on, Dad. That won’t take very long.”

True. I look up at Emma, rubbing the back of my neck. She looks so good in that dress. I’ve quickly forgotten any reason I had for turning her down. “I don’t want to put you out.”

Emma shrugs. “I don’t mind. Friends can help friends paint.”

Friends. It’s a safe word, and it puts me at ease. “Okay, that would be great. Thank you.”

She heads toward her house, heels clacking on the pavement. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. I can’t wait to see what kind of Band-Aids you use, Penny.”

“Nana only has the boring kind.”

Emma’s smile widens. “Not for long.”

“What does that mean?” Penny asks.

“You get cleaned up, and then you’ll see what I mean.”

Penny’s never run into the house so quickly.

Emma

This is madness.

The last time I had really talked to Carson Price before he decided I was his conquest of the night in the Burlington bar, we were teenagers in the school editorial room. I’d been putting the finishing touches on my article for the last paper of my junior year, and he came in with a few friends to get their pictures taken for the yearbook superlatives page.

Bennett Walker had laughed at something he said, and Carson shoved him away playfully before approaching me to ask if I knew where Nicole was. She was going to take their pictures for most likely to live happily ever after and most charming.

Guess which of the two Carson won? Yeah, Mr. Charming has always been a ladies’ man. It was no surprise to learn later that he got married the second he graduated from his undergrad, taking a wife to dental school and becoming a dad not too long after. Apparently, he’s one of the good, reliable, monogamous guys.

As for knowing where our photographer was? I didn’t. The guys left to find her, and Carson never looked back.

Our lives were intertwined for the three years of high school we shared, and he never even noticed me.

Yeah, I hadn’t figured out how to manage the frizz of my red hair, my braces were particularly metallic up until senior year, and my glasses were thick, dark, and gave me owl eyes. But more than anything, I often chose reading over going to parties. I was that cool.

Now, my love of reading pays the mortgage, I spent the evening dancing with everyone from the library at Demi’s wedding reception—including a slow song with Seth that wasn’t horrible—and I’m throwing on the ugliest painting shirt I have over old leggings and thick socks to spend the rest of my night with one of the most popular guys from high school. How is this my life? Having a date and then hanging out with Mr. Charming himself all in one evening? We must have stepped into a Tim Burton version of Autumn Ridge where nothing is as it seems, pumpkins cover most doorsteps, and everything is still bright and crisp instead of monochromatic.

All of that aside, I’m not fooling myself. This thing with Carson is nestled firmly in the friend zone. Aside from that first night, there will be no adding of benefits to our situation. Carson didn’t have wholesome intentions where I was concerned. He was probably lonely last week, wanted to feel less lonely for a little while, and didn’t think he’d ever see me again. Besides, I’m focusing on other men right now.

Seth was a good date at the wedding—better than I’d expected. We stayed in a group most of the day, hanging out with the other librarians, but he was attentive and polite.

As to whether he’s helping me lose this ridiculous schoolgirl crush, that’s still pending.

Most of the sunlight is gone when I leave my house to cross the road and pour salt all over my wound titled lack of girlfriend material.

What am I even doing?