For you
That was unusual. Emmy frowned for a moment, then moved past it. The author had dedicated her book to her readers. It was a nice sentiment. Didn’t mean the author had no family or friends to dedicate the book to. That was too sad a thought. Emmy wouldn’t allow sad thoughts to pollute the happy romance world she was about to enter. She found the first chapter and began to read.
The book quickly proved to be a worthwhile purchase. The writing was a little flowery for her taste, but the emotions were genuine, and Will felt like a real person. It was interesting to note that he appeared to be the protagonist of the novel, though she had no doubt she’d be treated to Bright’s perspective soon enough. Usually the romances she read focused on the female lead. She welcomed the change of pace. After succumbing to a jaw-cracking yawn, she continued into chapter two, interested to see what Will would do now that his car had broken down.
Will indulged himself with some creative curses as he turned the key in the ignition and listened to his car sputter and gasp like a man dying of thirst in the desert. The check engine light had flashed for only a secondbefore the car had died. Very helpful. With a sigh, he yanked out his keys and palmed the little flashlight keychain that had been a gift from his grandfather. His grandfather, who had left him his house. His grandfather, who had believed in luck favoring the prepared. His grandfather, who had died surrounded by his family, surrounded by legacy and love.
Will knew nothing about cars, but…
“Come on, Gordon,” he muttered. “Let’s see what we can see.”
With Gordon leading the way, he popped the hood and pushed out of the car.
It took Emmy a moment to realize that he wasn’t talking to an imaginary friend; he’d named his flashlight Gordon. Was that aFlash Gordonreference? She wasn’t sure whether she should be impressed or disgusted by the pun. At least the book was eliciting genuine reactions from her. Shaking her head, she found her place and continued to read.
Though he’d never told anybody that he’d named his flashlight all those years ago when his grandfather had gifted it to him, he still felt a twinge of embarrassment whenever he thought about it or talked to the little inanimate object.
“Well, you should,” Emmy said, stifling another yawn. “It’s fucking embarrassing.”
Gordon illuminated the engine, the tubes, the battery, the dust-caked container for windshield wiper fluid—whichhe had once again forgotten to replace despite the continued insistence of the light on the dash. He tried to see anything that was wrong, begged the fates to let him find something he could fix then and there. It was too late to get to work on time, but if he could fix the car, he could eventually make it there to finish his shift. But he still didn’t know anything about cars, and the fates were still cruel. Tired, resigned, defeated, he pulled his phone out of his pocket to call a tow.
Emmy read through Will’s journey to the mechanic, his somewhat contrived meet-cute with Bright, with requisite flirtation, and a rapid-fire description of his workday after he finally made it to the hospital. She could tell she was approaching the end of the chapter—Will had just crawled into bed—and thought she could push through before calling it a night. Her bookmark was ready.
Twenty seconds later, the book flopped unceremoniously onto the floor as Emmy dropped off to sleep.
Four
She woke several hours later and blinked the sleep out of her eyes. So much for making it to the end of the chapter. She patted the bed around her, then looked over the edge and spotted the book sprawled on the floor. Scooping it up, she quickly skimmed through until she found the last page she remembered reading and slipped her bookmark into place. She left the closed book on her nightstand next to the other three that had been living there for the past several months. Lucy’s uncannily accurate words came back to her, and Emmy frowned. It had to have been a lucky guess, damn it. But she still felt petty enough to gather up the books and put them back on her book/plant shelf, which stood sentry next to her work/plant desk and across from the cooking/plant counter in her kitchenette.
She’d stumbled upon her obsession with plants at a young age. Her parents had unwittingly opened that door for her by being utterly hopeless with all things floral.
Emmy grabbed everything she would need for her workday and prepared to leave the apartment. She wasa few steps from her car when her phone lit up with an incoming call.
“Hey, Mom,” she answered, sliding into the driver’s seat.
“Hey yourself. Do you have a minute?”
“I’m heading into work, but I can talk while I’m driving.”
“Ah,so¯desuka. I was going to ask if you could swing by the house.”
“Why? Is everything okay?” Emmy asked.
“Yes, everything’s fine. May’s wedding present arrived!”
“That’s great! See, I told you it would be here in time.”
“You never miss a chance to say, ‘I told you so.’”
Emmy could hear the smile in her mother’s voice, and her own mood responded to it. “That’s me. Queen of Correct. So why do you need me?”
“I want you to see it. I could text you a picture, but I think it has a better effect in person.”
“Okay.” Emmy thought about wedding prep, work, any other obligations that might have snuck onto her schedule. She didn’t think she had anything else going on that day. “I’ll come by after work, okay? You can make me dinner.”
“I can? How lucky for me.”
“When did you get so sarcastic?” Emmy asked with a laugh.
