Emmy opened her mouth to argue, found she couldn’t come up with a good comeback, and snapped her jaw shut. Will just smiled at her in that smug-yet-charming way that only a romance novel protagonist could pull off.
*
With all the elements put together, it did look professional. Emmy worried her lip with her teeth as she studied her work. Yeah. Professional. Right? Maybe the plants looked a little haphazard, but she hadn’t wanted neat little rows for Will. And the antique birdbath did look absolutely perfect tucked in among the foliage. There were three antique shops in Cobalt to choose from, thank the romance gods.
“Wind chimes,” she whispered to herself. “All it needs now is a good set of wind chimes.”
She checked the time on her phone. Will would be home soon. She hoped he had enough energy to drive her to Bright Ideas. She could skip the library for one afternoon. Before she went in to take a shower, she grabbed the rusty old gardening tools from the shed. She’d already replaced them with new ones, and she had a great idea how to put these to good use.
*
“Do you think Bright would let me nap on one of her antique couches while you talk to her about trash art?” Will asked later as he drove her toward town.
“First of all, it’s not trash. It’s your grandfather’s old tools, and they deserve your respect. Second… no. I don’t think she’d mind if you took a nap. She probably has a back room or something, though. No need to make yourself part of the display floor.” He felt Emmy’s gaze on him, studying him. He knew he looked and sounded fatigued, and she must have noticed, because she added, “I told you we could wait a day if you needed to.”
“I’m fine,” he told her. “I wouldn’t have agreed to go if I didn’t want to. I’m just a little worried about seeing Bright again.”
“Why?”
He sighed. “I had another book scene at the hospital today. It hit me out of nowhere. I don’t think I can handle it if I end up in one today.”
Emmy turned more fully toward him. “What happened?”
Will didn’t want to recount it. More than anything, he wanted to forget it. He wanted to go back to a time when he thought he was a person with a purpose and a life to lead. But that wasn’t in the cards.
“There was this kid who was recovering after surgery. Appendicitis. It went fine, but they’re keeping him overnight just to be sure. The parents caught it late, and the appendix was severely inflamed. I was doing my rounds, and I saw he was crying and clutching this stuffed owl his mom had brought him.”
He remembered it too well. The words had been there, and he’d wanted to fight them. But how could he when they perfectly aligned with what he wanted to say and do? This wasn’t a casual conversation with Bright in the waiting room of a mechanic. A child was suffering. He’d had no choice but to go through with the script.
“Hey, buddy, what’s wrong?”
The kid had looked up at him with big brown eyes. His name was Lamar Booke. He was six years old, and he was spending the night in the hospital.
“It’s my fault,” Lamar said, his voice small and pitiful.
Will heard the words in his head before he spoke them, and he resented them even as he understood the kid needed them.
“What’s your fault?”
“We were supposed to pick up our dog today from the shelter place. My tummy hurt a lot, but I didn’t want to say anything because I wanted to get our dog. She’s really pretty. My mom has a picture on her phone. I had to wait because the people had to come and look at our house and stuff. I really wanted a dog for forever.”
“Nothing wrong with that. Dogs are great.”
“Yeah, but my tummy hurt real bad and I didn’t say anything. I heard the doctor talking to my mom. He said it was lucky we got here in time because it was real bad. My mom was crying. I made her cry.”
Will sat on the edge of the bed and took the boy’s hand. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Lamar. Your mom was probably crying from relief because the doctor was telling her you’re okay.”
At that moment, Lamar’s mother walked back into the room. Her face fell when she saw Will.
“Is everything okay? Did something happen? I just stepped out for a minute to take a call from his dad.” Panic rose in her voice. “The reception in here is so spotty. Is he okay?”
“Everything’s fine, Mrs. Booke,” Will said quickly, allowing the words that weren’t his to flow out of him. “I was just checking in with Lamar and telling him how brave he is.”
Her smile was watery and so full of love for her son. “So brave, sweet pea. And guess what!”
“What?”
“Daddy just called. Look who’s waiting for you at home.” She turned her phone so her son could see, and Will couldtell the boy was looking at a picture of his new dog because his face lit up.
