“But are you happy?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“I know I went hard on the planning back there, but I just want you to have the best birthday ever. Like we used to have, but a grown-up version, you know?”
“I do,” Emma assured her, because she truly did.
“And I don’t mean to push the Montgomery thing.”
“No, no, it’s fine. I know you’re just looking out for me. And you’re right, he’s very charming.”
Even as Emma said it, though, she found herself wondering what Knightley would think of Margo’s pestering.
“So, what’s going on with Nadine and George?” Margo asked.
Emma blinked. “What do you mean?”
“She kept bringing him up all morning. Does she have a crush on him or something?”
“What?” Emma scoffed. “You can’t be serious.”
“Why not? Nadine is so sweet. And it’s not like she and George are strangers.”
Emma’s brain felt like it was shorting out, as though every thought she’d had, had been erased as she pondered Margo’s words. Knightley… and Nadine? “I don’t know… I just don’t see them together.”
“Oh, so you think he’s serious about this Davina woman?”
“No,” Emma said more firmly than she meant to. “NotDavina. That’s not—”
“Okay, then what’s the issue?”
“I mean, maybe… I just… Do you really think Knightley could like Nadine… in that way?”
“Why not? He’s mentioned her enough times, and she brought him up plenty today. And thanks to you, they’ve been spending a lot of time together.” Margo smiled slyly. “Stranger things have happened, right?”
Emma forced a smile. “Right.”
CHAPTER 24
Margo’s words were still ringing in Emma’s ears three weeks later, as her cab sped across Central Park toward Tavern on the Green the morning of her twenty-fourth birthday. Nadine and Knightley? It was ridiculous. If anyone else had suggested it, Emma would have laughed. But it wasn’t just anyone; it was Margo. And as much as she hated to admit it, Margo always seemed to be right.
It was like the first time Emma had ever tried to impress a boy. She’d fallen in love with David Goldblatt, who sat next to her in Mrs. Saltow’s second grade class. There wasn’t much Emma remembered about being seven years old, but she remembered him. How dimples creased his cheeks when he smiled, and he always smelled like crayons. She confided her feelings to Margo—who, at ten, was much more experienced with this sort of thing—along with her master plan of how to woo him: Emma would wear her ruby-red slippers from Halloween when she’d dressed up as Dorothy fromThe Wizard of Oz. Yes, they were a little uncomfortable, but they had a one-inch heel and she had never felt more beautiful than when she had worn them down Fifth Avenue with a bag full of candy on one arm.
Of course, Margo had laughed so hard she had almost cried. “Your feet are going to be covered in blisters before you even get to school, and then you’ll be stuck in them the entire day! All because you want to impress a boy who won’t even notice them?”
But Emma was adamant. David Goldblatt wasn’t like other boys. He would notice.
Margo had been right, of course. Emma had barely navigated her way through the fresh snow on 83rd Street before her heels began to burn. By the time she walked into Mrs. Saltow’s class, her toes felt like they were broken. Still, she sat down and waited for David to look over.
He never did.
To her credit, Margo hadn’t reminded Emma that she had been right. She had simply helped bandage up Emma’s feet when she returned home in tears and put on a movie while she made hot chocolate for the two of them.
Emma hadn’t thought about that story in years, but as the car pulled up to the restaurant, it was there in the center of her mind, demanding attention. She wanted to blame it on her Loeffler Randall platform heels, the ones she insisted on wearing today even though her toes were already beginning to ache. Or maybe it was the possibility of Nadine’s unrequited crush. But it wasn’t until she walked into Tavern on the Green, when she saw the long table filled with family and friends all framed by the large windows and draped in yellow forsythias and branches and a few conspicuous white roses, that she knew.
Margo had been right yet again. The restaurant, the roses—everything was perfect.
And that was it, she realized. Margo was always right. It was a running theme throughout Emma’s entire life. And if she wasalways right, then there was a good chance she was right about Emma’s love life too. Her career goals. Even Nadine and Knightley. As everyone stood and cheered and she caught sight of Montgomery standing near the center of the table next to the only empty chair, the realization felt like a stone in her very expensive shoes. A nagging, unrelenting thing that was impossible to shake.
