I shrug. “A shitty joke by the Universe? I have no fucking clue how she got it. It made me realize I have no clue who she even is.”
“So ask her.”
Those three words are said with certainty. Finality.
And that scares me.
Because…
The potential answer could change everything between Emery and me.
“I don’t know if I can. We just met.”
“So? You like her, right?”
“I…” I swallow. “It was casual.”
“The look on your face when you talk about her would call you a damn liar.”
“I never should have come here.” I stand up.
“Then why did you?” Ayden stands up too and faces me.
His mouth is set in that half-frown he gets when he’s pissed at me. But it’s different between us now. Ayden’s someone’s husband. He’s someone’s dad.
He’s gone past me.
And we both know it.
He knows and understands things that I can’t possibly.
I sit back down and gesture for him to continue.
He retakes his seat. “If you like this woman as much as it seems, maybe she’s worth telling the truth to.”
“You mean…”
“Yeah. The whole story. I know that’s scary. And why the hell would you want to open up that box, right? I fucking hate talking about it too. But eventually, if things between you continue, she’d need to know anyway.”
I exhale a heavy breath. “You got damn lucky with Bella. She already knew everything there was to know.”
He shoots me a half-smile. “You think that’s the only thing about Bella I got lucky with?”
“Point taken. Bella’s a superstar, and you’re lucky she feels the same about you.”
“Very true.” Ayden pauses. “The curse isn’t real, Michael. Trust me.”
I go silent for a moment as I ponder the conviction in his tone. People in our hometown back in Maine like to gossip that our family is cursed. Dad drowned and Granddad skipped town when he went bankrupt. Ayden and I never believed we could be anything different. But Ayden always had Bella. They’ve been best friends since they were kids, and their connection is unbreakable. I knew eventually he’d have to go all-in with her, and he did.
A rustling sound behind us gets my attention, and I look over my shoulder.
That’s when I see a midnight-colored head poking up from the large bush at the edge of the porch.
When the head starts moving, and Emery emerges from the bush, I stand up.
“Shit.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
