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She’s part of the MC family, so get used to seeing her. Got it.
Serena shakes her head. “But I’m pretty sure she teaches all the old ladies yoga a few times a week and that’s so not typical MC behavior. Maybe we should try to join them when I’m up there one weekend?” she suggests.
Take my downward dog cues from someone who used to bang my boyfriend. No thank you.
“Sure.” I paste a confident smile on my face. “I like yoga. But I don’t think I’m getting invited back to the clubhouse anytime soon.”
She flicks her gaze toward the window, then back to me. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Emily
Not a day goes by that I don’t think about Dex confronting me at the church.
He said he’d wait. For me.
Then at the party, he didn’t state his case again. He simply held me. We sat together, swinging in the darkness until I almost fell asleep in his arms.
Every day since, I’ve wanted to call him or at least send a text. Once or twice on my way home from work, I’ve driven by Crystal Ball, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. Or even just his bike. But he must still park behind the club. It’s tempting but driving around the back of the building seems a little too stalkerish. And what would I do if he caught me? Speed away? Stop and pour my heart out?
At least this weekend, Libby’s play opens. That’ll provide me with a pleasant distraction. This morning she seems hell-bent on pushing all my buttons, though.
“Emily, are you listening?” Libby waves her hand in front of my face. “I’m not coming home after school tomorrow. I need to run lines with Becca before the show.”
“Are you sure you’re okay to do this?” I stare pointedly at her cast as I stand up from the table and grab our plates.
She growls at me like an angry tiger cub protecting her dinner. “Yes. Mr. Miller’s helped me figure out how to work with the cast. I’m so not giving my part to Meghan. No way.”
“Okay.” I set the plates in the sink and hold up my hands in surrender. “I worry about you, that’s all.”
“Gah! I’m aware of your endless concern. Just promise me you’ll be there. Near the front row. But not in the front row. Okay?”
“Yeah, of course I’ll be there, pudding.”
“Good.” She taps her fingers against the side of her glass.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Nothing. I’m really proud of this play. I want you to see it, that’s all.”
“Hey.” I return to the table and rest my hand on her shoulder. “I’m really proud of you. I know how hard you’ve worked. You haven’t let a broken arm get in your way. That’s dedication.”
“Think I can put that in my college essays?”
I chuckle. “Maybe we can find a subtle way to work it in.”
The next night, I’m shaking like a leaf in the spring breeze while I help Libby get ready backstage.
“I’m the one going on stage. What are you so nervous about?” Libby asks, staring at our reflections in the dressing room mirror.
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “What if you trip and fall and break your other arm?”
Did I really just say that?
She slowly turns around and narrows her eyes. “Get out.”
“What?”
She flicks her free hand toward the door. “Go. You’re going to jinx me with that kind of talk.”
It was a dumb thing to say. I don’t blame her for banishing me. “Sorry,” I mutter, scurrying away like a properly scolded puppy.
The area outside of the auditorium is more crowded than I expected. I glance at my watch. Damn. It’s closer to curtain than I realized.
I push through clusters of parents, moving toward one of the doors to the parking lot. I need air.
My hand brushes against the cool metal bar and as I’m about to press it down, the heavy door opens with a clank and whoosh.
I stare at the man filling the doorway. Tall, broad shoulders, firm jaw. Blue eyes that widen when they meet mine.
Am I hallucinating?
Have I been thinking of Dex so much that my brain finally melted?
“What…what are you doing here?” I drop my gaze to the small bouquet of pale pink roses in Dex’s fist.
He lifts his chin, his expression turning cold. No charming smile or whispered enticements tonight.
“Libby invited me.” His voice is firm, hard. Almost challenging.
“She did?” I squeak.
“I’m not leaving, Emily.” As if he wants to punctuate his statement, he steps over the threshold, letting the door bang shut behind him.
I back up a few inches, bumping into the brick wall next to the exit. “I didn’t ask you to leave.”
The tension in his shoulders seems to ebb. “Whatever’s going on between us doesn’t matter. That’s our issue.” He waves his hand in the space in front of his chest, frustration burning through his words. “She asked me to see her play and I don’t want to disappoint her.”
