“You ready to watch some intense crafting television?” she asked, purposefully breaking the mood.
“Hell yeah. Let’s do it.”
Woodworking guy’s show wasn’t on, but Bright would have been delighted to know they passed the time watching a quilting program. After Will left for work, Emmy stayed on the couch, watched as the quilting came to an end and home cooking took its place. Because it was better than thinking about Will’s crinkle-eyed smile or any feelings she may or may not have about it.
Eighteen
Will’s last day of work was a double shift. He arrived home exhausted, his mind whirling with a strange combination of regret and relief. Yes, he was leaving his dream career behind, but at least that meant he was free to help Emmy explore escape options.
Speaking of Emmy, she was asleep when he got home. On the couch. Had she tried to wait up for him? He stood for a moment just looking at her, curled up on the couch, snoring softly. Was it bad that he found her snoring cute? There were very few things he disliked about this woman. She’d taken a hard hit with the last relationship, but he—
Will stopped himself before he could finish that thought.
Had he really been about to think of himself as a potentialrealboyfriend for Emmy? How could that possibly work?
It couldn’t, of course. That was the answer, plain and simple. And it caused a wave of bitterness to wash over him, mixing with the regret that already lingered from the sendoff his coworkers had given him at the end of his shift. Jaredhad brought a cake that Bright had baked and decorated to look like an IV bag. Everyone had signed a card.
Disgusted with himself, Will carefully lifted Emmy off the couch and brought her to her room. He slipped her into bed, and she didn’t stir once. Just kept on with her cute snores. Will wanted to linger, so he made himself leave. Except he detoured to the kitchen on his way to the bathroom. A glass of whiskey kept him company in the shower, and then he hit the mattress and conked out.
*
Emmy woke up in bed and blinked until her eyes adjusted to the morning light. Had she fallen asleep here? No, she’d been on the couch. It was coming back to her now. She knew Will was working a double shift, and she’d been hoping… God, she had to be honest with herself. She had been hoping to head him off before he “celebrated” being done with his job by polishing off one or more of the bottles that were on top of the fridge. The plan had been to encourage him to shower and then—if he didn’t want to sleep—she’d been ready to watch late night television and discuss the impending parental visit.
Instead, she’d fallen asleep before he’d gotten home.
Whoops.
He must have carried her to bed. Her heart wanted to clench and her brain wanted to squee. She wouldnotallow that. No heart clenches. No squeeing. So what if Andrew would have definitely left her sleeping on the couch? And, yeah, she wouldn’t have minded if she’d woken up while Will was carrying her so she could enjoy the sensation ofhis strong arms surrounding her. But she needed to put a kibosh on all these wayward thoughts and… tingles.
When she got to the kitchen for breakfast, Will wasn’t there. She guessed he was still sleeping off his double shift. That meant she had time to scrutinize the bottles on the fridge. They didn’t look emptier, but it was hard to tell. Wait… the whiskey. Yesterday the liquid had been above the label. Now it was a little below. Worries crowded Emmy’s mind. Not to mention the guilt she felt over the fact that Will was spiraling as a direct result of her appearance in his life. Maybe it was time to Google some intervention strategies. His parents were coming tonight, though, so she’d have to wait on talking to him. It wasn’t like she could bring his parents in on the intervention.
Hi! Nice to meet you! I’m your son’s fake girlfriend. Anyway, would you mind joining me this evening in discussing my growing concerns about your son’s reliance on alcohol as a coping mechanism?
Yeah, not a great idea.
“What’s the strategy?”
Emmy jumped at the sound of Will’s voice. She’d been lost in thought, standing in the middle of his kitchen. If he asked what she was doing, she’d be hard pressed to come up with a believable explanation.
“Strategy?” she repeated dumbly. For a fleeting moment, she thought he was asking about his own intervention.
“For the parental dinner,” he clarified. “I figured I would cook something. My mom usually brings dessert from this bakery she likes, so that’s covered.” His eyes found the bottles on the fridge. Emmy actually worried for a secondthat he was considering a drink before he said, “My dad likes gin and tonics, but my mom’s a wine drinker. We can pick her up a bottle.” He scanned the room, then nodded. “Yeah, dinner and wine. That should cover it, don’t you think?”
Emmy didn’t know. She wasn’t exactly an expert on meeting the parents. Plus, these were romance novel parents. Maybe they had different standards?
“I can give the house a once over,” she offered, trying to remember if she’d left any of her underwear in the bathroom. “Make everything nice and pretty for company. Do you have any candles?”
Will furrowed his brow. “I have Gordon if you need a light. Where are you going? The attic?”
Emmy let out a surprised laugh and shook her head in disbelief. “Decor, Will. Candles make nicedecor. It’s literally the root of ‘decorate.’”
“Oh. Right.”
“I’m going to take a wild guess and say you don’t have any pretty candles with subtle, tasteful scents lying around.”
“Good guess.”
“Right. I’ll make do without.”
