He cleared his throat. “Anyway. Apology flowers. I’d ask if you have wisteria—”
“We don’t have that, sorry.”
“No, I know,” Arthur said hastily. “Trust me, that’s…that’s good.”
He swallowed, forcing himself not to think of wraparound porches and deck chairs he once thought he’d grow old on.
“Anyway,” he said, forcing a smile. “What do you suggest?”
* * *
He knocked on Emma’s door twenty minutes later, easing his grip on the bouquet he was holding. He kept bending the stems, the tissue paper crackling in his fist.
His heart lurched as he heard Emma’s voice. He smoothed his mane, pulling up what he hoped was a relaxed smile.
“—don’t know,” Emma said as her voice came closer. “One second, I’m there.”
The door opened. Emma froze. She had her phone to her ear. She was wearing a baggy pair of sweatpants and an even baggier Christmas sweater, more ugly than the first one. There was a smudge of Cool Whip on her cheek that Arthur itched to lick off.
He forced the impulse away. They were going totalkthis time. Really sort things out.
“Hi,” Arthur said. He lifted the white tulips Joshua had given him. “These are for you. I was wondering if you’d be interested in a tour?”
Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not—”
“I’ll be the guide,” he said hastily.
Emma’s eyes narrowed farther. Arthur could feel himself sweating. Standing here under Emma’s keen gaze was somehow more taxing than all the flying he’d done today.
Emma put the phone back toward her mouth. “Never mind, Daisy. Gotta go.” She shoved her phone into her sweatpants pocket. “Youwant to takemeon a tour?”
“Yes! I’m a little out of date, but I’m a fast learner.” The tissue paper crinkled in his grip. He forced his fingers to loosen, hoping she didn’t notice. “Look. I’m…sorry. We didn’t get much of a chance to talk…before.”
“Didn’t we? Mr. Let-me-show-you-what-you-need?”
“Youkissedme,” he reminded her. Then, when she started to roll her eyes, he said, “No, that doesn’t matter. I wanted to tell you I—I missed you. And maybe you’re right, maybe we shouldn’t have…”
He stopped. He didn’t regret it. But it was obvious she did, standing there all stiff, her arms crossed tight over that Christmas sweater that was so awful it came back around to being cute.
He braced himself. She wanted him to drop his mask, so he was going to try.
“I want us to get along,” he admitted in a rush. “To be civil, at least.”
Her jaw clenched. For a moment, he thought he’d screwed it up. That he should’ve laid the blame on himself a little harder,reallyplayed the martyr.
The door slammed shut.
Arthur swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. He hadn’t realized how badly he wanted her to say yes until right now. How much he cared what she thought of him. He’d been torn apart those first few months in LA, constantly agonizing over a phone number he never let himself dial.
He turned, tail drooping between his legs. He gave it an annoyed flick, holding it up in the neutral position he’d trained it into. He’d been so good about not reacting with his tail; why was it acting up so much since he got back to Claw Haven?
The door swung open.
Arthur whipped back around, ears pricking up. Emma stepped out onto the ramp, stuffing her feet into a pair of weathered boots, a scarf dangling haphazardly around her neck.
“Fine,” she said. “But I’m driving.”
CHAPTERTEN
