Page 75 of Freefall

A flash of denim catches my eye, and I turn to see Emory heading back to our table. My stomach drops.

“Don’t tell Emory,” I blurt out.

“Oh no.” Allie waves her hands dismissively. “I’m not keeping secrets from my best friend. Been there, done that. There were tears.”

Skylar scrubs a hand over her face.

“I don’t cry,” Allie adds. “It ruins makeup and rarely helps, so the fact that I did is a huge deal.”

“Isn’t that how you and Ash got together?” Skylar interjects. “He comforted you?”

“Irrelevant.”

Emory is almost at the table now.

“Please,” I whisper. “Just until we figure some things out.”

Allie looks from me to Emory, then back again. Her expression hardens. Then softens a little. “Okay,” she whisper-yells. “You have one week, and then I swear…”

“What did I miss?” Emory asks as she takes her seat opposite Allie.

Allie leans back with a smile that should absolutely not be trusted. “Harper was just filling us in on her dating history.”

Emory’s eyes slide from her friend to me. “Sorry, were they hounding you?”

“Hey,” Skylar protests. “Don’t group me with her.”

“No, it’s fine,” I say. “We were mostly discussing my lack of dating history. Not every guy is cool with the eight-year-old blue-eyed baggage I come with.”

Once again, my joke falls flat, and the look Emory directs at me is one of sadness, not humor.

It’s true. Ryan said he was cool with me having a kid, but on our fifth date—because I somehow decided I wasn’t done torturing myself with disappointing sex—Daisy came down with a fever during dinner, and I had to rush home to her. The next day, he broke up with me over text, saying he wasn’t at a point in his life where he could be selfless.

At least he was honest.

“So she is eight.” The accusation comes from across the table, where Allie is crossing her arms.

“Yes.”

Emory frowns. “What is up with you, Al? You’re being sketchy even for you.”

“Just making sure we all have the facts straight.”

The night goes on without any further incident, unless you count Allie glaring at me every ten minutes. I can’t really fault her. She obviously cares a lot about Emory—Nate too. Whatever story she’s put together in her head, I doubt it paints me in the best light.

Despite the earlier situation, it’s still nice chatting with women my own age. Laughing about ridiculous things. Talking about something other than fairies and cartwheels.

But by the time ten o’clock rolls around, my anxiety starts to build. What if Daisy wakes up looking for me? I’m sure Nate can handle it, but what if he wants to leave? He probably has better things to do on a Saturday night than sit around watching a sleeping kid.

His sleeping kid, I remind myself.

“I think I’m going to head out so I can relieve the sitter,” I say when there’s a break in the conversation. I don’t miss the look Allie shoots in my direction at the word sitter. “It was so nice meeting all of you.” I turn to Emory. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other before the big day, but feel free to call or text if any questions come up.”

“I will,” she promises.

Allie and Skylar say their goodbyes, and I head out to my Jeep. Unlike Emory, who was absolutely pretending to drink beer, I was upfront about not drinking tonight. I’m a lightweight, and I didn’t want to deal with getting a rideshare from Rocky Falls all the way back to Baybridge.

As I climb into the Jeep and reach for the ignition, I realize that I never responded to Nate’s text from earlier. Allie’s interrogation sidetracked me. I open the message again, taking in Daisy’s grin and Nate’s half-smile. Before I can think too hard, I type back and start the car.