“There are agencies that’ll get you a wife. Guys like you use them all the time.”
“Guys like me?” I grin. “And what kind of guys are those?”
“You know—rich, young, good-looking…” She gestures at me with both hands. “You.”
I want to yell that the only reason Idon’thave a family isher.That she ripped that future from my hands the day she walked away. But I keep my mouth shut. It won’t help anything. “I hate those agencies. They’re not for me.”
“Well, then, go for the dog. I know you’re allergic, but you can take a pill or something that day.”
For a second, I actually consider it. “And where the hell am I supposed to get a dog?”
“Oh, don’t worry about that—I’ll take care of it.”
“That’s what worries me,” I mutter, staring off.
She kicks me under the table, and we both laugh. And I know she feels it too. That old ease between us. It’s still there. Unshaken.
Our smiles fade, and I wonder if she’s thinking what I am. We were good together. We were happy. What did I do that made you leave? I swallow the question just as the food arrives.
“Enjoy,” the waitress says before disappearing.
Emma eats like she always did—zero fucks given. No fake delicate bites. She dives in, laughs with her mouth full, and cleans the plate with bread.
My kind of girl. Still is.
“Do you like where you live?” I ask, cutting into my steak. It’s a genuine question. I know the area. And after what I found out about her mom… I want to know she’s okay.
Emma dabs the corners of her mouth before answering. “Yeah, the community’s great. Most of my neighbors are my age.My first week there, a guy named Juan invited me to a party. I met a bunch of people.”
Pretty surethatwasn’t Juan’s main goal. But I keep it to myself.
“Lucky, I don’t have neighbors. Closest one is a block away, and the guy’s Italian. Only comes during the holidays.”
“I don’t know why I’m surprised. You always were a bit of a lone wolf.”
I wasn’t alone when I was with you, lamb.I nod, sipping my wine instead of saying what I really want to.
“Did you know Lauren and Silas are working together?” I ask, eyes locked on hers.
I’ve learned to read her well. Emma’s an open book when it comes to emotion, and I can tell right away: she knows.
“Yes,” she says, lowering her hands to her lap, shoulders rounding slightly. “Don’t make me talk about it.”
Her tone is almost adorably annoyed, lips pressing into a pout as she stabs at her food.
“Fair. Just surprised to see your sister there. Seems like she and Silas are getting along.” In more than one way.
“Yeah. That’s what scares me…” she mutters, taking another bite. Her fork clinks too hard against the plate, the sound sharp in the quiet.
“Why?”
She exhales, drops her utensils with a clatter, and starts cracking her knuckles—one by one. A nervous habit.
I watch, caught in the déjà vu.
“They’re toxic together. You know that better than anyone. And if it wasn’t for Silas, Lauren wouldn’t have ended up in the hospital—twice.”
I set my fork down slowly, every movement deliberate. My jaw tightens. “What are you talking about? Both times it was Matt’s fault.”
