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“You have to do that.” I smiled, taking her in. “I’m proud of you.”
“Thank you.”
Laughter rang out from the bar area near the back, and Emily opened her menu, glancing toward the noisy group.
“Isn’t that Lydia?” Emily asked, peering over the menu at me.
My blood froze, and then I heard it.
Clara’s laughter.
It hadn’t changed since high school.
Emily’s brows furrowed. “You okay?”
“Yeah, why would you ask?”
“Because you look like you’re going to be sick. Do you want to leave?”
I shook my head and drew in a slow breath. This was ridiculous. It all happened so long ago.
My eyes stayed on Emily’s. “No, I want to spend an incredible evening with you. It’s not easy to find good friends and…”
She nodded. Her eyes smiled before her lips did, and she reached over, touching my hand with hers.
“Let me know if you change your mind and want to get out of here. I mean it.” Emily squeezed my hand and glanced at the group. “Now, let’s order some calamari. I’m about to faint.”
The vividness in her gaze made me forget about everything from my past and focus on only her.
But that was the power Emily held over me. Whenever I was with her, nothing else mattered. It was why I’d be the best friend she’d ever had forever if it meant not jeopardizing my ability to see her.
It probably sounded crazy.
“Let’s do some bruschetta, too,” she said, closing the menu. “I’ve decided on the prawns and linguini. You might have to roll me out of here.”
“I have no problem doing that.” I decided on the filet and put the menu down as the server came over.
I ordered a bottle of wine and placed our appetizer order as I noticed Emily sneaking a peek at the boisterous group at the bar. It was only a matter of time before she brought them up.
“Was meeting Charles everything you’d dreamed of and more?” I teased.
She leaned onto the table and twisted her mouth into a contemplative pout. “Honestly? I’m kind of underwhelmed.”
The surprise of her answer made me laugh. “How so?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Maybe it was the hat. Or… I don’t know. I just expected my mystery writer to be hunched over in a corner, wearing a worn old cardigan, typing away, and coming up with eerie scenes in a darkened room, only the flicker of a fireplace lighting his keyboard and an untouched cup of tea next to him. Then…he emerges…I thought he might be a little hunched over, shielding his eyes from the light.” She grinned. “Seeing him so… animated completely blew my thoughts out of the water.”
“So, you were expecting the Hunchback of Notre Dame?” My mouth dropped open, and I shook my head. “Wow. Those are some interesting expectations.”
She shrugged. “What can I say? I’m bonkers. I can’t turn my mind off. Did you know that I do that with everyone I meet, read about, or see on television? Doesn’t matter. Nobody is safe. It’s like I’m psychic, but I have no actual talent because nine times out of ten, I’m wrong. I cannot read people for diddly squat.” Emily licked her lips and cleared her throat. “I mean, look at you. I thought you were a total jerk, and you’re the biggest sweetheart of them all.”
I snickered and shook my head as the server brought our drinks and appetizers. “Well, good to know.”
She flashed a wicked grin in my direction. “What? It’s not like I hid that. You know what I thought about you.”
I nodded, taking a sip of wine. “Yeah. You made those thoughts loud and clear.”
Emily glanced toward the bar. “So, tell me what’s up with Lydia and her buddy Clara? Or is she your buddy?”
