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“Um...”
Molly quickly steps in to save her friend, distracting Emily by throwing me into the lion’s den. “Emily, have you met Beth?”
As she spins around, I’m met with a scowl so deep it causes an indent of a line between her brows. As she lets out a breath, her features soften considerably, and my shoulders relax.
“Beth? Oh, Logan’s neighbor.”
That’s my identity now.
Logan’s neighbor.
My shekels instantly rise, but when her lips lift, her smile is warm. “It's so lovely to finally meet you.”
Eden takes a gulp of her coffee to wash down the rest of the cookie before mumbling, “Or if we're feeling fancy, we like to call her Bethany Rose.”
She’s worse than Kim because she knows how much that name grates at my last nerve.
Emily stills midway through shaking my hand, and I feel the tension as she squeezes my knuckles so much it almost hurts. Then her hand falls, slapping against the counter.
“Bethany Rose?” The use of my full name and the way she whispers it makes me uneasy.
I shift under the weight of her stare. She's scanning me like she's recognizing me from somewhere, but she can't place it.
“You don’t happen to be a photographer, do you?”
“You can’t just ask a stranger—” Eden tries to interrupt, but Emily slices her hand through the air to stop her.
“Are you?”
“Um…” I stutter as my tongue gets tangled around the words. Why am I suddenly nervous around this woman?
“She is. She took pictures for one of our charity events.”
Thanks, Molly.
I peel my dry tongue from the roof of my mouth. “I haven’t done it in years.”
“But Logan bought you a camera for your birthday.”
I glare at her.
Shut up, Molly.
Emily falls back into the stool. “Holy shit,” she breathes, still staring at me. “He did it.”
“Who did what?” I whisper back. I don’t know why.
“Logan. He found you.”
I laugh but it comes out strained and more like a screech.
What did she just say?
“Excuse me?”
“I’m not sure if you’re aware, but Logan and I were engaged. It was a mistake on both our parts. We were friends for years and should have stayed that way. That man had no interest in a marriage, and even less interest in organizing a wedding. So, I was over the moon when he wanted to book the photographer. The thing is, he was so picky. I never got it. I’d never heard of the photographer he was looking for. And he insisted on this particular one.”
The rush of blood behind my ears makes it hard to hear anything she’s saying because I know what’s going to come out of her mouth, and I don’t want to hear it.
