Emma’s smile faltered as Nadine slid happily into the waiting car.
“See you later!” she exclaimed. Then she slammed the door closed and waved goodbye through the window as the cab turned down 82nd.
“I could have sworn you told me you lived on the Lower East Side,” Emma said.
“I do,” Zane replied, staring intently at her face. “I don’t mind taking the subway though.”
“Oh.”
He took a step toward her. “Thanks for sticking around tonight. I think you two are hands down my favorite customers to hang out with.”
“Oh, Nadine and I had a great time.”
“Me too.”
Emma darted her eyes around the street, trying to find something to say, anything to break the awkward moment that had suddenly landed between them.
That’s when she saw him. Across the street, coat wrapped tightly around his body, Knightley walked toward home. But he wasn’t alone. There was a woman walking beside him. She was tall with long black hair, her stature helped by the stiletto heels on her feet. She smiled at Knightley and said something close to his ear. His head was down, his gait wide, and he didn’t look up at her as she spoke; for a moment Emma thought she had gotten away unnoticed. But then, as if he had sensed her presence, he looked over and their eyes locked.
It was just a moment, but her stomach lurched and her mouth went dry. Then Knightley’s gaze snapped to Zane, who had taken another small step toward her. Knightley’s expression hardened, and he locked his eyes with the concrete again, continuing home with the gorgeous woman beside him.
“So, what do you think?”
She blinked, realizing Zane had asked her something.
“I’m sorry?”
“You’re down for Brooklyn in a couple of weeks?” he repeated, his grin widening.
“Yeah,” she said, forcing a smile onto her face. “Definitely.”
Emma took her time walking back to her house. She was angry and embarrassed and annoyed and… God, she couldn’t even pinpoint all the feelings rushing through her veins. But by the time she opened the front door, she was only tired. Tired of fighting and being mad and just… all of it. So impossibly tired that she barely made it up the steps to the second floor.
Her bedroom was dark, but she didn’t bother with the lights. She just sat on her bed, staring out her window at the now dark sky.
Knightley’s kitchen light turned on across the yard, snagging her attention. The break in the trees meant that she could see the scene playing out in the room: his broad shoulders by the island; the slight, tall frame of the woman by the windows. A heartbeat later, the woman opened the sliding glass door to the garden and wandered outside, her laughter suddenly audible. Emma rolled her eyes; he wasn’t that funny. Of course, that never stopped his dates before. The same manufactured giggle as they not-so-subtly surveyed the house, the same flick of their hair as Knightley offered them a glass of wine.
How many nights had she sat here at her window and watched a similar scene play out? Enough that she knew exactly how it would go from here. They would talk for a few minutes, slowly getting closer until the woman found a reason to touch him—a hand on the chest, her head on his shoulder. Emma recalled how as a teenager,one with little experience with boys, she had watched Knightley and his dates from this same perch. It was like an intensive tutorial on what to expect from dating: the wine, the laughter, and then…
As if on cue, Knightley’s hand went to the small of the woman’s back as he guided her inside.
This was usually the time Emma would close the curtains and laugh to herself at how predictable he was, even as her cheeks flushed. But right now, she couldn’t bring herself to look away as the sliding door closed behind them and the kitchen light went out again.
What happened when he brought his dates back inside? Did he call them a car and kiss them good night? Or did he bring them upstairs? Emma had never spied a woman in his bedroom before, but his house was huge. Plenty of rooms to choose from. The different guest rooms, the different beds…
She usually didn’t let her imagination go there. But now she couldn’t help it. How he touched them, how he peeled off their clothes…
She blinked. What was she doing? This was Knightley.Knightley. Her mind had no business delving into this new territory, especially with him. But then, everything with him felt unwieldy lately.
It was as annoying as it was scary.
Another light turned on across the yard and caught Emma’s eye, halting her thoughts. This one was on the second floor; Knightley had turned on his desk lamp and he was now standing in the middle of his bedroom. Alone.
His crisp shirt was unbuttoned, revealing the hard plane of his stomach, and he had a drink in his hand. His jeans hung low on his hips, so impossibly low that, as he slowly walked across the room, she thought she caught a glimpse of the trail of dark hair that ran from his navel. She wanted to dart her eyes away,but then he placed his glass on the nightstand and began unbuttoning his jeans.
Oh my God.
She held her breath as he slid them down his legs, then picked up a hanger lying nearby and folded them neatly over it.Who hangs up their jeans?she thought.Of course he does.
