Page 65 of What We Got Wrong

“I’m good,” Liv answered softly. “This week has been kind of a lot.”

“I’ll bet,” Emma replied with a knowing look. “How are you holding up?”

Liv thought for a moment before answering. “It’s honestly pretty wild, but… I don’t know. My whole life is work, and having her here has been…well, you know. I’m just grateful that she’s even talking to me. And, you, I can’t believe that you didn’t just hang up when you heard my name. Like I said, it’s a lot. More than I deserve, really.”

It was clear that Emma had several thoughts running through her mind, but what she said was, “I’m happy to hear from you.”

Liv was going to do her very best not to cry on this phone call.

“Will you tell me about your life?” Liv asked, her voice soft. She was afraid that Emma was going to shoot her down, just like Quinn had.

She was pleasantly surprised, though, when Emma spoke. “I have a little girl. She’s three years old. Paisley is my whole world. She’s sleeping now, that lovely little terror.”

“Will you send me a picture?” Liv asked hopefully.

“Of course,” Emma replied. She clicked away from the video portion of their call for just a minute, and Liv heard the telltale ‘woosh’ of messages coming through. When Liv navigated to the appropriate app, she was bombarded with the cutest little carbon copy of Emma, flaming red hair, bright green eyes, and freckles splashed across her round cheeks.

“Em, she’s beautiful,” Liv gushed. “She looks just like you!”

“Thank you,” Emma accepted brightly. “She’s amazing, honestly. It’s like she changes every day.”

“I’m sure,” Liv said. “And Brandon?”

“He’s good,” Emma answered, though her voice had changed a bit, sounding ever so slightly constricted. “He’s out with his friends right now at a basketball game, so we had a girls’ night, me and Pais.”

“That sounds delightful.” Liv didn’t know what to say. She wanted to dive deeper. She wanted to apologize. She wanted to beg for forgiveness. “Emma, I’m really sorry—"

“Nope, nope. Here is the thing, my friend. I want to talk about everything, I do. But tonight, can we not? You’ve got a lot going on already this week, and frankly, so do I? I’d rather have a pleasant conversation with an old friend than cry with you over the phone right now. Is that okay?”

Liv was taken aback by the request. Even if Emma intended it as a reprieve for them both, this felt beyond generous, and Liv was quick to nod her agreement.

“Great, so Quinn texted me a picture of her and Rhea Freaking Stewart today,” Emma said. “What’s up with that?”

When they’d exhausted the Rhea topic, or at least, the version of the Rhea topic that met the standards of “pleasant conversation,” they rotated through safe subjects: more about Paisley and Liv’s job. At one point, Emma even asked Liv if she’d seen any good movies lately. It was awkward, but also beautiful, talking to Emma again, regardless of the topic.

“I’m glad that you called,” Emma said, after they’d been on the phone for a while.

Liv nodded. “Me too.

There was a knock at the door that grabbed Liv’s attention, snapping her head towards the sound.

“Do you have to get that?” Emma asked, her eyes twinkling through the phone.

“I think I do,” Liv replied, grinning right back at her.

“I’ll talk to you again soon,” Emma said hopefully.

“I promise,” Liv choked out, watching as Emma winked at her before hanging up the call.

After taking a moment to compose herself, Liv walked to the door of her room, stopping only briefly at the mirror to ensure she looked okay. When she answered, Quinn was leaning against the wall.

“Why are you dressed?” Quinn asked, her voice gravelly in a way that reverberated across Liv’s whole body.

Liv whimpered at her words. She figured the right thing to do was to maintain the tone Quinn was setting for the exchange. Maybe volley back something equally steamy, or just slide out of her shirt. But she was a little raw from the conversation she’d just finished. “I just got off of the phone with Emma.”

Quinn softened. “Are you okay?”

Oh, Liv could just about crack open at the tenderness in her tone, the warmth in her eyes. At the familiarity of it, especially after the conversation she’d just had. And, oh, she wanted to answer that question. To tell Quinn exactly how she was feeling in the moment, how vulnerable.