That was my rationale for not calling or texting him back after Savvy died.
It was also my rationale for not sleeping with him, back when I noticed that he might be interested. I mean, the rationale back then was technically that I was married and I’d only just stopped cheating on Matt with Kyle, but it feels similar. Using my high school best friend as an excuse to leave my husband, probably fucking Emmett all the way up in the process, is a bridge too far, even for me.
I drive downtown, park on the street, and stare at the front of the art store for several minutes. The words Creativity Is Good for the Soul! are written in big, cheerful bubble letters across the glass storefront, with little flowers and hearts painted around it.
That’s probably Emmett’s art. He was always doodling constantly growing up—in his notebooks during class, on the sidewalks with chalk, on his own skin when he was bored. He used to come hang out with me at the bar where Savvy worked and draw on napkins while I wrote.
He would draw something for each of us, sliding one napkin across the bar to Savvy, and another to me. Sometimes it would be a sketch of me hunched over my laptop, or a cheerful cartoon version of my face, or just whatever random thing was in his mind that day.
“You should really try to make it as an artist,” I’d told him one day, after he’d presented me with a napkin drawing of a dragon humping a car.
“Yeah, real high-quality stuff there,” he’d said with a snort.
“It is! Whatever happened to moving to New York and trying to work on graphic novels?”
“Well, it turns out you can fail at that from anywhere.”
“Seems like it’d be more fun to fail at it in New York.”
He’d barked out a laugh and bumped his shoulder against mine. “We should have gone together, after college. Like we used to talk about.”
I’d looked away then, because I didn’t want to think about what my life would look like if I’d gone to New York with Emmett after college instead of marrying Matt. I’d returned my attention to the dragon.
I think I still have those napkins, stacked neatly in a box in the corner of Nathan’s apartment.
I stare at the storefront.
I don’t even know whether Emmett is working today. I’m going to have to actually get out of the car to check.
Any minute now.
It takes another few deep breaths, but I finally step out of the car and into the sticky air.
I immediately regret my decision.
I’d been so focused on the store that I’d failed to look over my shoulder, a few doors down.
A group of men stand beneath a green and white awning outside a restaurant, their laughter echoing down the street. One of the men is looking in my direction, the smile slowly fading from his face.
Keaton Harper. Savvy’s older brother.
He has a beard, and a belly, but I’d recognize that death glare anywhere. One of the men notices Keaton’s gaze and lets out a loud “oh shit” when he spots me.
I quickly turn away. Emmett is standing in the window of the store, and he lifts a hand in a tentative wave.
I’m tempted to bolt back into my car, but I’ve been spotted from all sides.
Emmett points to the door, which I realize now has a Closed sign on it. I nod and walk to it. Behind me, I hear angry murmurs.
Emmett smiles as he opens the door. I sometimes catch myself picturing the kid I knew growing up—skinny and awkward, with a frizzy helmet of blond hair.
But he hasn’t looked like that since we were teenagers. He’s tall and solid now. His blond hair is wavy instead of a frizzy mess, cut and styled in a way meant to convey ease but that probably took a little work. He has a dusting of beard growth on his jaw.
Like I said. He was right there, dumbass.
I step inside. The art store is decently sized, but so jam-packed with crap that it feels claustrophobic. Every inch of wall space is covered by a brightly colored poster or intricate, handmade wooden signs. I stare at the giant wall of wooden Welcome signs to my left and think that you could probably do some real damage by smashing one into a face.
I blink and return my attention to Emmett. “Hi.”
“Hi.” He looks intrigued, but not exactly happy to see me. No one can blame him.
He clears his throat, and a bigger smile suddenly breaks across his face. “Sorry. I knew you were in town, but I’m still sort of stunned to see you.”
“Sorry to just drop by like this.”
“I’m glad you did.” He smiles again, and I’m more relieved than I want to admit. I try very hard not to care that everyone in this town thinks I’m a murderous hag, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t relieved to hear Emmett at least sound like he was a tiny bit on my side.