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“Why not?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t think he’s the one for me.”
That gave me hope, but then I remembered it didn’t matter. I wanted her to be happy. I would have to be the friend she needed and forget about trying to be the boyfriend. “You deserve a good man. Someone who will treat you right and support you.”
“I have you for that,” she joked.
“You will always have me for that,” I murmured. “I will always be there for you, and I will gladly kick anyone’s ass who mistreats you.”
“I know.” She smiled.
We went back to our pizza. My mind mulled over my future. I had a feeling I was going to always hold Emmy as the one that got away. She was always going to be the one the other women I met and dated were compared to. She was the one I would think about when I was lying in bed alone. I was always going to wonder what could have been had we approached our friendship differently. The age gap between us had always kept her out of reach. But now that we were adults, it wasn’t so weird. I glanced up at her once and found her watching me. Once again, it was weird. There was tension.
“So, uh, what did you want to talk to me about?” she asked.
“Oh, um, hold on,” I said and grabbed my laptop. “We have a few assignments we want you to write copy for.”
She looked at me. “What?”
“Do you need the work?”
“Of course, I do. I’m trying to support myself.”
“I can send you what we need,” I said. “If you’re willing to take on the job.”
She looked a little disappointed. “Sure, yeah.”
“If you’re busy, that’s okay,” I said. “I’m sure we can have someone take care of it.”
“No, no.” She shook her head. “I can do it. Just send me the information.”
“I will.”
“I have to go,” she said and wiped her mouth with a napkin. “I’ll see you later.”
She got up and left the pizza parlor. That was a little strange. I didn’t know what happened. Was I hallucinating, or was she disappointed?
I didn’t know what was going on, but I knew I needed a drink after my failed attempt to ask Emmy out on an actual date. I texted Leo and let him know I would be working from home the rest of the day. In reality, I was taking myself to the bar on the corner near my house. I drove home, left the laptop in the car, and walked directly to the bar.
I sat alone at the bar, nursing a whiskey, with my thoughts consumed by Emmy. We had been friends for most of our lives. I loved her deeply. But lately, my feelings for her had started to evolve into something more, and I wasn’t sure what to do about it. I would always love her, but the love I felt for her was more intense.
I knew Emmy was special. She was the kind of person who lit up a room with her infectious smile and boundless energy. She was always there for me, through thick and thin, and I valued our friendship above all else. But now, I couldn’t help but wonder if there could ever be something more between us. Every time I thought I might be picking up on some vibes, she shut it down.
I swallowed down the tequila and asked for another. I wanted to wash it all away. I was trying to drown out the thoughts of the woman I loved but could never have. I had tried everything to forget her—going out with other women, burying myself in work, even going to therapy, but nothing seemed to work.
I took another sip of my drink and winced as the liquid burned my throat. I knew I was only making things worse, but I couldn’t help myself. I just wanted to forget, even if it was only for a little while.
The bartender, a grizzled old man with a kind smile, placed another drink in front of me. “You sure you want another one, son?”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. The bartender looked at me with concern but didn’t say anything more. He had seen this kind of thing before and knew there was nothing he could do to help. Some bartenders tried to cure what ailed their patrons. Others were wise enough to keep their mouths shut and minded their own business. The latter were the kind I preferred.
As the night wore on, I drank more and more, my thoughts becoming increasingly muddled. I tried to push Emmy out of my mind, but she was always there, haunting me like a ghost. I knew I had to stop, but I didn’t know how.
Finally, after dulling my senses, I stumbled out of the bar. The cold night air hit me like a slap in the face. It was good. I felt better. Now, I just needed to get home and pass out.
ChapterEight
Emmy
