Page 37

The few framed photos lining her bookshelves are a revelation. The first is Emily rock climbing, smiling sweetly for the camera. I recognize Mount Whitney in California. It was one of my first solo climbs. The next one is of her in Switzerland, the snowy peaks glimmering in the sunlight behind her as she leans on her skis. The third one is of her scuba diving with a large group of people while a nurse shark swims around them.

Well now…sweet Emily has an adventurous side that matches mine perfectly. She is more interesting by the second.

The large bay windows face the street, providing a much nicer view than the alley. Below us, the cars fly by. Despite the busy road, it’s surprisingly quiet inside the apartment.

Emily returns, pulling my attention. She’s changed into fitted yoga pants and a well-loved, oversized New York Mets sweater that drapes over one shoulder, leaving it bare. I smirk. I’m a Yankees fan, and that makes us rivals, but…it suits her.

“How long have you lived here?”

Emily heads into the kitchen, beelining for the fancy countertop coffee machine. She sets out two cups and pops in the first pod. The machine hums and starts to brew.

“Four years now,” she says.

“Has your family always lived in New York?”

She shakes her head.

“No. I don’t know my father, and my mother and I moved around a lot. I can’t even name one town we were in longer than six months.”

Her voice is sad, and I hate that she is ashamed of her past.

I shrug out of my coat and hang it on a hook by the door.

“That must have made it difficult to make friends or attend school.”

Back in the small kitchen, I lean against the counter, watching her work.

“I didn’t go to school after grade six. I was homeschooled, or more accurately, I taught myself. When my mother wasn’t looking, I’d steal a little money and go to the second-hand store. The textbooks were older and rough, but they worked. An elderly woman lived across the hall from us in one of the many apartment buildings. She helped me with my math and reading for the few months we lived there.”

Emily spares me a glance and then moves the finished cup out of the way to start the second one.

“I have no official diploma,” she says, picking right back up in her story. “When we started moving every few months, I never re-registered with a school. My mother said she hated people tracking us. She said they would take me away from her and my life would be even worse. I stupidly believed her.”

“And you said you moved out at fifteen?”

“Yeah. I’ve been on my own ever since,” Emily says, flatly, as if that’s normal for everyone.

The coffee machine sputters. Emily goes to the fridge to pull out the maple whiskey creamer she’s promised.

“As for friends…the girls who work for me are the first real friends I’ve had since I was eight. It’s part of the reason I’m so desperate to hang onto this place. They’re my employees, but it’s more than that. Sam and Kai are my chosen family.”

Emily wraps her arms around herself, and I’m compelled to go to her. Stepping close, I pull her into a hug. She’s stiff for a moment, then takes a deep breath and relaxes.

“I’m sorry things were so difficult for you,” I say.

“It’s fine. Thank you for listening.”

I force myself not to drop my head and breathe in her scent. Hints of sweet jasmine, cinnamon, and warm amber combine in an intoxicating perfume that matches Emily perfectly.

Emily holds me tightly, her head on my chest. The darker thoughts rise once more, and I want to lay her out on the counter. Swallowing the urge, I’m about to step back before I act on what I want, but Emily beats me to it.

She quickly turns away, wiping at her cheeks while she pours creamer into both cups and hands one over.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Emily says, like she somehow knew I was going to go too far.

My palms itch to grab her.

“You didn’t.”