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“It makes sense now,” she says. “Why Emmy never dates.” She spins and faces me. “She’s been pining for you!”
“For eight years?” I scoff. “Doubt it.”
“Maybe not pining, but maybe waiting for someone she feels the same way about? I don’t know, I still can’t figure out what she sees in you, so maybe I’m way off-base.”
I give her a pointed look and she grins at me. It’s nice having my sister back in my life.
“Anyway, why would you assume Emmy is The Hopeful Romantic?” she asks. “Feels like quite the leap.”
If Emmy is the podcaster, Mack would definitely know about it, right?
“Just something this Hopeful Romantic said,” I tell her.
“Oh, so you have been listening.”
I hold her gaze, debating on telling her my own secret. “I went on a little bender.” And then, without thinking, I add, “I might’ve actually written in.”
Mack lets out a laugh that’s pretty much torture. “My brother, Owen Larrabee, writing in to a relationship podcast? Should I look to the East? Is Jesus coming back on a cloud?”
“This is not something we need to talk about,” I tell her.
“Oh, no. We do.” Her eyes are bright, and then, realization hits her. “Wait a minute, are you that guy?”
I wince.
“You’re not. . .”
I can’t believe I’m admitting this. I shake my head in embarrassment and say, “Practical in—”
“Poughkeepsie!” Another laugh. “Owen!”
“I couldn’t help it,” I say. “The stuff this lady says is so ridiculous. She’s setting people up for disappointment.”
Now, Mack snaps her mouth shut and looks at me.
“What?” I ask. “What now?”
“Is what she’s saying ridiculous. . .or is it the way to Emmy’s heart?”
“What are you even talking about?”
“I’m saying. . .if you want to win Emmy, then you should do every single thing on The Hopeful Romantic’s list.”
I think again about the slow dance in the bookstore. Yes, it was staged, but something happened. I liked the way she felt in my arms. A lot. And I haven’t let myself feel that way about anyone in a really long time.
It felt good. Safe. Easy. Natural.
“What are you thinking?” Mack asks. “You disappeared there for a minute.”
“I’m thinking this is crazy,” I say. “And not me at all.”
“No, but it is her,” Mack says.
“Aren’t you the one who gave some other guy her number?”
Mack waves me off. “Yes, but that was before.”
“Before?”
