Page 46 of Falling for Keeps

“What do you mean?” I ask, trying to sound nonchalant while I gather more information.

“I heard you spend a lot of time with him.”

I won’t mention that Dad’s kind of a hypocrite right now. I had to find out about his girlfriend from my brother.

“Dr. Price hired me to reupholster the chairs for his waiting room. We had to pick out fabric, so I took him to Burlington and the Ednas happened to be shopping for yarn. But he’s my neighbor, nothing else. He’s a dad and fresh out of a divorce.”

“Neither of those things are deal breakers, Em.”

“No, but it doesn’t change the fact that we’re only friends. Or that I’m kind of seeing someone from work.”

“Okay, I believe you.” He puts his hands up like he’s surrendering. “If you say it’s just gossip, then it’s just gossip. Now, who’s this guy from work?”

“It’s nothing yet. Only a couple of dates. We took a big break, but we’re seeing where things go.”

“Hm,” he says, like he doesn’t approve. “Thought you didn’t have time for romance?”

“Anyway.” I drag out the word, demonstrating an end to the topic. “Speaking of those chairs, I need to get moving. The dental office opens Friday, and Carson needs them finished.”

“Okay, kiddo.” Dad hugs me again, and I head for the door.

Why does it feel like I lied to my dad? Or that I’m using Seth as a shield more than I should? Agreeing to go out with him was a bad idea. If there’s anything this town should get an Olympic gold in, it’s spreading rumors.

Or…maybe that’s what I need.

Carson

When I poured every cent I had into buying the dental practice and a few new upgraded machines that I got on a miracle loan, I didn’t anticipate how much more money I’d need to put in to bringing everything up to scratch. Paint isn’t cheap. Neither are door rugs that aren’t forty years old, or new flooring that doesn’t smell like burned popcorn. Add to that a good office chair for Barb, my secretary, and lumber for the tree house, and books and toys to fill it with.

I add the finishing touches to the bird perched on a branch on the wall and hop down from the ladder, standing back to take everything in.

I’m no artist, but I think it turned out pretty great.

Okay, so I’m a hobby artist. I doodle.

White clouds dot the blue sky around the tree and branches spread out covered in green leaves, which don’t look half bad. I’m lucky Mom had the afternoon free and was able to pick up Penny from school to give me enough time to finish this. It’s officially ready for kids.

One kid in particular, of course.

It takes another half hour to clean everything up and power down the new computer at the front desk. Barb is going to appreciate the update, I’m sure. Hopefully it makes up for me putting an end to her two-week vacation while I got the office ready for patients. The entire office staff came in this morning for a quick meeting, which became tricky when I realized I didn’t have any chairs in the waiting room, so we sat in exam chairs and went over expectations for the soft launch tomorrow.

I can’t do anything more for it, but as I stand in the quiet, empty waiting room, overwhelming inadequacy runs through me, making my shoulders heavy. Why did I think I’d be able to do this? In what world was buying an office I’ll be paying off for the next fifteen years—twenty if I don’t want to live at my mom’s house forever—the right fix for my situation?

I scrub a hand down my face and sigh before carrying the rest of my tools and painting supplies to the storage closet.

The drive home is picturesque, the changing leaves on the trees making them look fiery and vibrant against the rolling green hills. Tennessee really showed up for fall, too, and the sheer number of trees here makes me miss the state I called home for the last nine years. It was lush and green and beautiful in its own way. But with all the good memories surrounding Tennessee, there are twice as many difficult ones. It’s like my thoughts surrounding the place I lived for the last decade are all showing with a grainy filter, changing the vibe of my memories.

Emma is outside when I pull into my driveway. She’s leaning over a chair and doesn’t seem to notice me, but I can’t help looking at her killer legs in long, black leggings. Her hair is thrown into a small messy bun with loose hair falling out around her neck and temples. She pushes her glasses up her nose and focuses on the back of the chair she’s screwing into place.

Even from here, I can tell that the chairs look so much better.

I climb out of my car and close the door, sliding my hands into my pockets as I move toward the road. My feet stop before hitting the pavement at the sound of the front door opening behind me. Mom steps outside and closes the door behind her, and the look on her brow makes my body go cold.

“Is it Penny?” I ask, abandoning the thought of checking on the chairs.

“We need to talk out here,” Mom says softly. “Penny’s in her room. She loves that new hammock chair you hung up. It’s hard to get her out of it.”

As much as I’m glad to have provided her with a safe haven, I don’t like that Mom seems to think she needs it right now. “What happened?”