Page 36 of The Perfect Heart

“Yeah, it has a flat, and I forgot to put the spare back the last time.”

Lots of lies tonight. But the last thing I wanted was for Halle to worry, especially out here, alone, in this apartment.

“Oh.” Halle pulled back from the window. “Well, thanks for checking on me.”

I winked. “Any chance to see you.”

That, at least, wasn’t a lie either. And at least Halle giggled, a slight flush coloring her cheeks.

Jonas waved as I opened the door, already attaching his towing cable to my car, and I waved before turning back to Halle.

“Call if you need anything?”

“I will.” She nodded.

I was halfway out when I stopped and turned back, leaning around the door. “Hey, you want to go on a date with me?”

The words had been building in my mind from the moment I stepped inside, and I couldn’t hold them back any longer.

“I—” Halle stuttered, eyes rounded with surprise. “I, uh—”

My breath caught in my throat as I waited for an answer, wondering if I had just screwed everything up.

“Um, sure.”

My breath came out in a noisy rush, and I smiled, bright exultation replacing the anxiety. “All right. I’ll text you.”

“Sure.”

Halle still seemed stunned even as she followed me to the door, standing there as I skipped down the steps, heedless of the snowy hazards, elation chasing away any thought of the cold.

Chapter 18

Halle

EMILY ANSWERED THE door, still in her pantsuit from work, looking entirely fashionable and entirely out of place in this tiny, quiet neighborhood.

“I love that suit. Is that St. John?” I asked, slipping out of my coat as Emily closed the door behind me.

Emily’s eyebrows lifted in faint surprise. “Yes, winter collection, about five years ago. Snagged it on sale at Neiman Marcus. How did you know?”

I knew because I had bought it myself, but not on sale. I’d fallen in love with its sleek lines and subtle patterning you could only see in the light. I had handed over Jack’s credit card and bought that and a pair of shoes to match, and neither had been on sale.

“Oh, I—” I stumbled, freezing with my boots halfway off.

“Of course, you know it.” Emily shook her head, answering her own question before I could scramble for an answer. “You always kept up with fashions. That’s why you went to design school.”

“Yep,” I answered, smiling weakly, and trailed her into the living room.

Her house was small but beautifully appointed, mid-century modern and minimalist, with a mix of abstract, pop, and photography art on the walls that made the space feel welcoming but clean. It was an apartment out of New York City, transplanted to Leavenworth, Washington.

“Do you ever want to move back?” I asked, still looking around the room, taking in the small touches—I wasn’t the only one with design sense.

“To New York?” Emily sank onto one of the couches, folding her legs under her as she kicked off her heels. “All the time. But my parents need me too much. Maybe one day, after they pass away, I’ll find my way back.”

My friend sounded wistful, her gaze far away. Unlike me, she had come back out of duty, not because she had wanted to.

But, well, selfishly, I was glad she was here because outside of Nash, she was the only one I could turn to.