“Well, what if…”
We talk shop back and forth the short distance to my house. Her idea is bonkers, but honestly, it just might work. Politicians do this kind of stuff all the time, right?
Her offer is a rip current in my head, and you know what they say about rip currents: you have to swim with them. I turn into my gravel driveway, and my headlights reflect not just my car sitting in front of my house instead of in the garage where it should be, but also Emma Jane’s car.
And Emma Jane.
Sitting on my steps with a wide grin directed at my truck.
I shut off the truck, which was blinding her.
Something inside me screams that I should stop Mallory from getting out of the truck, but that’s crazy, right? This is what Emma Jane wanted…
She will be thrilled to hear our date went well even though we aren’t romantically interested in each other. Mallory and I will have an image to keep up soon…
But the moment Mallory steps out of my truck, Emma Jane’s eyes grow wide under the front porch light, and she shoots to her feet quicker than a bottle rocket going off on the Fourth of July.
Her smile falters for the briefest of seconds as she eyes Mallory, and when she turns in my direction, where I’m finally moving myself out of the truck on wobbling legs at the false implication of this moment, I swear I see her bare her teeth.
Emma Jane
Rule #9: Be the emotional buffer for your matches. See the things their new love may blind them to.
Ifelt the way my smile twisted to a snarl.
My composed façade faltered for only a moment before I remembered I should be happy about this.
Granted, I didn’t take Knightley to be the kind of man that takes a woman back to his place on the first date, but I guess you never truly know someone.
Even if they’ve been by your side since you’ve existed on this earth.
The unanswerable question remains: why am I not happy about this when it’s what I wanted for him and my business? Why did I let my smile slip into a snarl? Why does this scene in front of me cut me like a serrated knife?
“Emma Jane, hey.” His voice is higher than usual and panic is written across his face. “What are you doing here this late? Is everything okay with Henry?”
Nice going, dude. Use my father as the reason a woman is on your doorstep in the middle of the night when you’re trying to bring another woman home.
I can do one of two things here.
I can continue to say something about my father to help him out, or…
“Nothing like that. Papa’s fine. I left my favorite jacket over here the other day after our movie night. Thought I’d swing by to pick it up.”
I’m not happy about the immature direction I chose to go, but one look in Mallory’s direction tells me she couldn’t care less.
She’s amused. Her arms hang by her curves, which are showing nicely in a killer black dress (I want to ask her where she got it from), and the corner of her lip ticks up as if she’s fighting a smile.
“Emma Jane Williams? It’s nice to finally meet you!” Mallory steps in front of Knightley, who still hasn’t gained his composure. His flustered state reminds me that I at least need to get my act together and not ruin this for him.
I reach out my hand, and she meets me halfway. “Yes! So sorry I’m imposing on your night. I had no idea he would be bringing you back here, and I was anxiously waiting to hear how the date went since you two are beta testing my program.”
Mallory and Knightley exchange looks, and everything I need to know about the two of them cements in my brain.
And I don’t know if I’m thrilled or disappointed.
Thrilled. Definitely over the moon excited that they just looked at each other in that secret couple-y way Stone and Lucy looked at each other infront of me.
Before I can change my mind and let this weird disappointment win out, I say, “I can see the two of you are doing just fine, so I’m going to go now. Enjoy the rest of your night.”
