“Are they?”
Another grunt. “Yeah. I guess she met up with them last week after Emma took Nadine out in the Village to look for a new apartment.”
Knightley blinked. How the hell was Nadine going to afford an apartment in the Village? Wasn’t she living in the dorms? It was like the hair and the new clothes; all seemingly innocent on their own, but together added up to something that lodged a flare of annoyance in his chest.
“Unbelievable,” Knightley murmured.
Ben sighed. “So what’s the problem with Emma making a new friend?”
“Nothing, it’s just…” Knightley raked a hand through his thick hair. “Emma tells her what to do. What to wear. How to act. Nadine’s becoming a carbon copy of her.”
“And?”
“And that’s not a friend. That’s a hobby.”
“Isn’t that just Emma, though? She finds something or someone she’s interested in and commits 110 percent.”
Knightley leaned forward, his elbows on his desk. “Yeah, but this is different. Emma doesn’t need someone who will indulge her. She needs someone to push back, to remind her that you can’t just treat people like toys because you’re bored.”
Ben let out a long breath. “You need to cut her some slack. We’ve all grown up, and that includes Emma. You have to accept that. You can’t just go around judging her actions all the time.”
Knightley huffed. “I don’t judge her.”
His brother chuckled on the other end of the line. “Self-awareness isn’t your strong suit, is it?”
“Shut up, Ben.”
“God, I wish you hadn’t been out in LA when she had that French boyfriend who answered every question with a shrug.”
Knightley’s brow furrowed.French boyfriend?“Who?”
“I don’t remember his name. Jean something? I don’t know. They dated her senior year at FIT. She ended it around graduation, I think.” Another laugh. “I would’ve paid money for you to have been around tonotjudge that one.”
Knightley smiled despite himself. Yeah, he would have had some thoughts on that.
“My advice, Brother?” Ben continued. “Stay out of it. If we learned anything from our childhoods, it’s that nothing good comes from telling the Woodhouse girls what to do.”
“Fine.” Knightley sighed. “I’ll try.”
“Smart.” Another grunt and his brother was back to moving the TV across the room.
A sound echoed from the other line and Knightley knew immediately it was the front door opening. Ben mumbled something under his breath, and then there was the rustle of fabric like he was holding the phone to his shirt as he exclaimed, “Hi, honey! Surprise!”
“Absolutely not!” Margo screamed.
Knightley hung up with Margo and Ben still arguing. He leaned back in his desk chair, running his finger along the mouse pad of his computer to stir the screen awake. Just as he suspected, his inbox was still empty, so he grabbed his jacket and decided to take a walk on his own.
The crisp autumn air felt good against his skin as he left the office behind and started up Sixth Avenue. It wasn’t long before he had reached 59th Street, a steady stream of taxis and horse-drawn carriages separating him from Central Park. It was mid-October and the trees across the street were a deep shade of red and orange, a bright pop of color against the otherwise gray sky.
He loved this city. The last few years spent bouncing between here and California had been fun at first, but the novelty had worn off quickly. The beaches, the restaurants, the women… none of it replaced the fundamental fact that New York was his home.
His cell phone vibrated in his jacket pocket. He pulled it out to find a picture of a manicured hand giving the middle finger illuminating the screen.
“Hello, Woodhouse,” he answered.
He knew she heard the smile in his voice because it was mirrored in her own when she asked, “Wait, are you actually happy to hear from me?”
“When am I not happy to hear from you?”
