“I can’t believe you guys are going to be parents,” I say, picking up the bottle of beer and clinking it to his. “Cheers, bro. Congratulations.”
“Thanks. I honestly don’t know if I’m more excited about being married or the baby,” he says with a huge grin.
“Baby for me. I’m going to be Auntie Emma.”
He has a sip of beer, then says, “I hope I’m ready for this.”
“You’ve been ready since you were eleven. You’ve already got the dad jokes down.
“Ha ha.”
“Seriously, you’ll be amazing and so will Libby. That’s one lucky little baby.”
He smiles for a moment before setting his sights on me again. “You doing okay, Emma?” he asks, giving me a concerned look. “Are you happy?”
“Of course I’m happy. It’s been such a terrific day—in spite of the storm. I’m going to be an auntie, and the dinner turned out pretty damn well, if I do say so myself.”
“It was an amazing meal, Em. You’ve got talent to spare, kid,” he says. “But what I mean is, are you happy being back home again?”
“Absolutely,” I say, turning back to the pot I’m working on to avoid eye contact. “There’s no place in the world I’d rather be.”
“Liar. You’re miserable. Everyone can see it, even the guests.”
“No, they can’t,” I say scoffing.
“One of them left a comment on TripAdvisor about the super depressing chef.”
“So?” I roll my eyes. “That doesn’t prove anything. Some people are just really picky.”
“I know you, Emma. You haven’t been yourself since Pierce left.”
“Whatever,” I say, scrubbing the pot extra hard. “I’ve just been in a funk but it’s got nothing to do with him. I didn’t want anything long-term with him anyway. It would never have worked out.”
“Oh, that’s too bad because he called here to find out when you’d be getting some time off.”
My knees feel weak and I freeze in place. “Wh…when? What did he say? What did you say? Why would he callyouand notme?”
“This morning. He started out trying to sound casual, like he was checking to see if things were going well and if we needed any more help promoting the resort now that he’s got some time,” Harrison says. “Apparently, he’s been working day and night so the book can go to a rush print or something but he wanted to reach out the first chance he got.”
“Really?” I ask my heart relocating to my throat and pounding like Junior tenderizing a T-bone.
“That’s what he said.” Harrison lifts his eyebrows like he’s not sure if he believes it or not. “I got the sense he wanted to find out if you’d moved on without upsetting you.”
“Exactly what did he say that gave you that impression?” I ask, tapping my foot impatiently.
“I don’t know. Nothing specific. It was just his tone.”
Gah! Men are awful at girl talk, no? “Describe it.”
“What? I don’t know. Kind of muted, I guess, if I had to pick a word.”
“Don’t pick one word. Pickallthe words. Be specific and precise. What did he say and how did he say it?”
Harrison shakes his head, looking confused. “He asked how you were and I said you were fine. I asked how he was doing and he said fine…or okay. He might have said okay…”
“Which is it? Fine or okay?”
Shrugging, Harrison says, “I really can’t remember.”
