I fought a wave of nostalgia, something that tugged warm and sure at my heart. He had such a way about him that it was impossible to believe that there weren’t a thousand women in Miami who hadn’t tried to tie him down.
Figuratively and literally.
“Okay,” I said quietly.
The satisfying sound he made would echo in my fricken ears all night. I glared down at my arms.
No Emmett bumps allowed.
“So I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said. “You’re not gonna bail on me?”
I smiled. “You’re not coming to see me, but no, I’m not going to skip my visit home because you’re there.”
“Good.”
“Good.” I smacked my face because of how dopey I sounded.
“Sweet dreams, Adaline,” he said.
I swear to high heaven, if he kept saying my name like that, I’d have to walk with my thighs taped together because a girl could not be held accountable.
Because I couldn’t manage much more than a mumbled goodbye, I disconnected the call before any more damage could be done to my pride. For a few moments, I flopped down on the bed and wondered how the hell this had happened.
Wondered what the hell I should do about it. If anything.
It was one weekend. Just a few days where I’d have to face someone from my past who’d done little more than not see me the way I saw him.
No big deal.
It was no big deal.
And in the vein of that no-big-deal weekend that I was going to embark upon, I calmly picked up my phone again and tapped out a message to my youngest stepbrother, Parker.
Me: When I get home tomorrow, you will not be able to run fast enough, you little shit. I am going to SMOTHER YOU IN YOUR SLEEP.
The following morning dawned bright and clear, and as I started my drive back home to Sisters, my head was clear too. Somewhere overhead, Emmett was on his way to my parents’ house, sitting in those buttery leather seats, looking like a fucking GQ cover.
And I knew that whatever happened this weekend wouldn’t change what came after it.
Emmett was my past—butterflies and everything.
But I’d already given enough of my future to an athlete who’d been unwilling to do the same. I wasn’t about to jump in with another one, no matter who he was.
Adaline
“How can you be so calm right now?”
Good question.
The screaming in the background was jarring, to be sure, so I lowered the volume on the Bluetooth in my car. My eardrums did not fancy the decibel that a dozen eight-year-old girls could reach. “Kendall, if the baker got in a car accident en route, then we have no choice but to pivot. It’s okay.”
See how calm I sounded? Apparently, I could handle surprises in very, very select circumstances.
At work, I was a pro at handling whatever came my way. It’s how I’d built my event planning business over the last four years. Business was good enough that I had four employees and could finally allow myself some weekends away from Seattle.
There was a burst of loud giggling, followed by another round of exuberant screams, and when my newest hire whimpered, I took a slow, deep breath.
“There’s no cake, Adaline,” she hissed.
“The girls have plenty of activities to keep them busy. Have they eaten yet?”
“No, servers are setting out the food in about an hour.”
I did a few mental calculations. “Okay, have them push that back about twenty minutes to buy you some time. Call Mimi at Sweet Dough Bakery. We’ve sent a million customers her way since she opened last year, and she owes us. Tell her we need mermaid cupcakes in the shape of an eight, at least two dozen. Whatever decorations she can scrounge, the colors matter more than anything. Light blue, light purple, light pink. Pearls, mermaid tails, starfish, she’ll know what to do. She should have some vanilla and chocolate on hand, and as long as those kids get something sugary, they won’t care what it is. But no strawberry flavors, okay? One of the girls at the party has an allergy.”