“It’s not one that’s been remade a hundred times, is it?”
She ignored him, turning up the volume and cradling her box of food in her lap.
They watched in silence, and it wasn’t until the main love interest was introduced—and Emma had paid proper attention to the fit of his nineteenth-century pants as he rode his horse toward the heroine’s home—that she turned to Knightley. He was back looking at his phone. “So, what do you think of Nadine?”
“She seems nice.” He barely looked up from his email as he answered.
Emma rolled her eyes. “I mean her before and after, Knightley.”
He turned to her, eyebrows knitted together. “What?”
“Thetransformation. I’ve been working on defining her style for a couple of weeks, but the new cut and color just complete the whole look, don’t you think? It’s like a new beginning for her. I’ve given her the fresh start she needed.”
“You didn’t negotiate world peace here. You dyed her hair.”
“It’s a balayage.”
“It’s brown.”
Emma sighed dramatically and settled back into the cushions. “I think we’re getting to the heart of why you don’t have a girlfriend.”
He scoffed. “I doubt that.”
The music swelled and the huge screen filled with scenes of a ball, as the two main stars stared longingly at each other from across the room.
“Here.” Emma leaned over and placed her hands on either side of his face, forcing his attention on the television. “Focus. You might pick up some tips.”
He watched for a moment, his expression a perfect mix ofconfusion and derision. “How much older is he than her? Fifteen years? Twenty?”
“Shhh.”
“And how is this romantic if none of these women have any personal rights?”
“Oh my God, shut up.”
“They’re essentially viewed as property, and you’re swooning?”
Emma turned to him and narrowed her eyes. “If you don’t stop with the Regency slander, I’m going to tell Fran you snuck salt into Sunday dinner last week.”
He laughed, a full, rich sound, and Emma couldn’t help but smile. She’d always loved his laugh. Knightley was usually so serious these days that there was a sense of victory when it happened. A joy in something hard-won.
It used to happen much more frequently. When they were kids, Margo, Ben, Emma, and George had caused so much mischief running around the house that Fran swore it caused her hair to go prematurely gray. That was probably one of the reasons she would pile them in this room most nights to watch an array of rom-coms and action films, depending on who wrestled control of the remote first.
“When was the last time we all had a movie night together?” Emma asked after another few minutes.
“It’s been a while,” Knightley murmured.
Emma canted her head to the side, trying to remember. It had been a regular occurrence for so many years that she hadn’t really noticed when they started to taper off. Margo was the first to disappear; college and then law school meant her presence became more scarce. Then Ben was off at culinary school, which led into working nights at the restaurant. But Knightley stayed. Even when he was in college and then after, when he was so busy building hisbusiness, he still found time for their movie night. It wasn’t until he decided to open the LA office and his trips out there became longer, more frequent, that the tradition seemed to die.
Knightley looked over at her, his expression becoming pensive. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“Did you want to call Margo and Ben? See if they want to come up?”
Emma opened her mouth, then paused. Did she want them to come up? They were probably home. And only a moment before, she had been feeling so nostalgic for those lost moments between the four of them that it almost hurt. But now she was struck by a new ache, a sharp possessiveness for this little bubble that she and Knightley had created for themselves. Just the two of them.
She shimmied further into the cushions. “Nope. How about you?”
