Page 45 of Speak from the Heart

It’s a strange retort, and it’s my brows that hitch next. “I meant lying.”

“I’m not lying,” she says, but she licks her lips.

“But you didn’t mention Gabe was the lawyer.” I would have gone with her had I known. I don’t trust him. I never have and for good reason.

“I didn’t tell you because I know you don’t like him. He didn’t actually do anything.” She still isn’t telling the full truth, so I press on.

“But . . .”

“He hit on me.” Her eyes close. “He asked me to dinner, and I said no, but I did take him up on his offer of a drink. I was trying to be nice since he was Nana’s attorney. It was a mistake.”

“Did he touch you?” I’ll kill him. It’s bad enough he looks at her or thinks he has a right to speak to her.

“No, but he propositioned me.” She stands taller, facing off with me. She’s a beautiful woman, and she can hold her own. She’s done it with me. She told me she’s a journalist, and I bet she gets hit on all the time. Random men thinking they can come on to a pretty lady. Strangers wanting in her pants. The thought hits me hard. Isn’t that what I’ve done? We hardly know each other, but the connection is strong. Still, does she give in sometimes? We haven’t shared our sexual history, other than her knowing I was married and had whatever with Sami, but I don’t know about her. Does she hook up with men she hardly knows, like she did with me?

I release her chin. I’m pissed at the thought, but I know it’s none of my business if that’s how she operates. I step back and sweep out a hand, allowing her to step forward. She does and then stops.

“I’m not with Gabe tonight, am I?”

“No,” I snap. “Thank fuck.”

“And I admitted it was a mistake to have a drink with him, correct?”

I cross my arms and glare at her. “Your point?”

“Just clarifying the facts.” With that, she walks away from the back of the garage, and I accept that she’s not wrong. She’s here with me, she said she made a mistake, and she apologized. Still, that brick in my belly weighs heavily.

As the night passes, I introduce Emily to old friends and family members she hasn’t yet met, including my sister Pam and my mother, Mary Carter. Mom already knows a great deal about Emily. This woman is all I’ve talked about for two weeks, and Katie keeps drawing pictures of us together, like we’re a family. I try not to imagine it. I’d never considered marrying again. The friends-with-benefits thing seemed to work out okay, but I can’t say I’d go back. I need the connection, that triangular link between another woman, Katie, and me because I’m a package deal.

After I grab Emily a drink, we sit in Adirondack chairs in Tom’s yard, near the firepit. My teenage nieces enter the backyard with Katie between them. My little girl wears a tiara and a homemade sash.

“Presenting Princess Katie,” they grandly announce to the crowd, and people clap, drawing attention to Katie she doesn’t care for. She ducks behind Madison, the older one, until she spots Emily. Katie darts out from behind her cousin and runs to the woman next to me. Emily immediately sits forward and opens her arms, drawing my child in for a hug. It warms my heart when it should concern me. My eyes lift to find my mother watching me and my sister-in-law Karyn staring at Katie in Emily’s arms.

“You look lovely, Katie bug,” Emily says, drawing my attention back to her and my daughter as Emily nudges Katie back a few inches. “Or should I say, Princess Katie, Her Royal Highness?” Emily twirls her hand between them and dips her head like she is bowing to royalty. Katie leans against Emily’s leg, and her lips curl into a hint of the smile that’s come more and more easily since Emily’s presence in our lives. In some ways, it still upsets me. I’ve worked hard for every smile I’ve received, which have been rare, yet Katie gives them so freely to this stranger.

This stranger who is beginning to mean a lot more to both of us.

The thought agitates me for some reason despite the incredible time with Emily last night. She shouldn’t mean more to either of us.

Katie wiggles free of Emily’s legs and runs away to rejoin the shenanigans of her older cousins, who drag her around like a plaything.

“She’s really into that fairy-tale shit,” I say, my voice heated as I turn on Emily.

“It’s not shit,” she defends. Her eyes twinkle in the firelight.

“Don’t tell me you believe in all that. Princes and fairy godmothers and such.” I scoff.

“There’s nothing wrong with believing in fairy tales,” she continues, affronted. “We all need to believe in a little magic in our life. A happily ever after doesn’t hurt.”

“Is that what you’re waiting for? For someday your prince will come and give you a happily ever after?” I’m teasing her, mocking the Sleeping Beauty song I’m familiar with, but there’s still an edge to my voice.

“I don’t need a prince to save me, but yes, I do believe in happily ever after. I just don’t think it comes as easily to some as it does to others.” She huffs as she looks off in the distance, following Katie’s movements as she runs across the darkening yard.

“And why hasn’t it happened to you?” I ask, thinking of Gabe and any other man who might have tried to snatch her up.

“Because I’ve been very career driven. I wanted things for myself before I gave myself to someone else.” Her head lowers, and her eyes focus on the flame in the firepit. “But then it came to a point when I was never picked. It was always the next woman someone settled on, not me. ‘It’s not you, Emily, it’s me.’” She deepens her voice to mock the words of other men. “It was always her, not me.” She sighs, and I stare at her. “I’ve never been picked. That’s why happily ever after hasn’t happened for me.”

She doesn’t look at me but takes a long drink of the wine I’d offered her earlier. I brought the bottle especially for her.