“We’ll be fine,” she contends. “Maybe I’ll ask Jake to help out more.”
“You will?”
Julia pauses to fill Emma in on all the necessary details to keep up with this conversation, and I take the opportunity to scan the menu.
“I said maybe,” she reminds us.
“Does this mean you’re considering his date request too?” I ask.
“He asked you out?” Emma swirls her glass and takes a sip.
Naturally she left out that little detail, and pink stains her cheeks.
“We’ll see.”
I cover her hand. “I love this for you.”
She feeds me an appreciative smile. “Thanks. What about you, Emma? Any men in your life?”
Emma lets out an awkward laugh that turns into a hiccupand smothers it with a long pull of her drink. She wipes her upper lip with her napkin. “It’s a complicated story.”
“Lucky Henry is with his dad,” Julia pipes in.
“And we have all night,” I add, planting my elbows on the veneer tabletop.
Her thumb buffs at the stem of her margarita glass. “‘Good’ is not the word I’d use in this case.”
The more I’m getting to know her, the more I’m recognizing her and Everett’s similarities. She’s difficult to crack open.
Julia sits taller. “Well, now youhaveto tell us.”
“It can’t be any more embarrassing than finding yourself in a tabloid with Rhett Dawson,” I joke.
Emma sighs. “I’ve been seeing someone on and off since high school. His name is Nathan.”
I hold up a hand. “Wait, is that the guy in the graduation picture on Everett’s dresser?”
I recall it. Longer, curly hair. Boyish grin. He was cute.
Emma blanches. Julia yanks on my shoulder.
“I’m sorry,on his dresser? You sure you don’t want to update your little cover story for that article?”
“No! It was a wet clothing situation. That’s it.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. It’s amazing how many years we’ve been friends, and I still manage to surprise her.
“You know what, we were talking about Emma.” I point at her for good measure. “Is this Nathan guy the one from the photo?” I repeat my question.
Emma’s cheeks burn a brilliant coral. “No. That’s Will Baker.”
“Are we ready to order, ladies?” Maria interrupts for the third time.
“Yes,” Julia says, rattling off her order without looking at the menu. I’m sure she picked it ten seconds after being seated.
“I’ll have the wild Alaskan salmon, please,” Emma says next.
“And what about you?”
