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“If we’re going to be married, you’re going to want a bigger bed, so it was bound to happen anyway.” After another second, strong arms wrapped around her, causing heat to rush to her face. Yesterday’s kiss was not a momentary flutter. She had feelings for Dean, and that scared her. Instead of excitement, fear pitted itself in Emilie’s gut. No one did these grand gestures anymore, not unless love was involved, and this was way beyond a friendly gesture. She had to stop this train before it crashed in a disastrous way.
Her phone buzzed with a text, giving her the perfect excuse to back out of his hug and retrieve it from her pocket.
She scanned the text, and her heart lurched. No way, it was too soon for Ava to contact her. She’d barely worked up enough courage to return home and unpack.
“Who is it?” He leaned over, but she snatched the phone away. “Is it Finn?”
Emilie reread the text, but the words didn’t change no matter how long or hard she stared. “Ava wants me to meet her for dinner at the Blackbean Diner in an hour to go over wedding details.”
He took her hand, patted it, and let go. “You don’t have to go. We don’t have to go to their wedding either. If this is too hard…”
Emilie flexed her fingers, remembering the touch of his coarse hands against hers. She needed to get out of the enclosed space with Dean, and even more so, she needed to make a decision about Ava. Meeting her would let Emilie know whether to call everything off or to tell Ava the truth and try to move on. “I moved back to deal with my past. Ava is a big part of that, and I have to test the waters to see if we can even be in the same room.”
“Ava hurt you pretty bad. It’s okay to give up on friends who stab you in the back.”
Emilie headed toward the stairs. “Don’t worry so much. I’m a big girl, but I’d better hurry and unpack the boxes if I want to meet her in time. You go back home and ice your ankle. I saw you nursing it a few minutes ago.”
Before she ascended the stairs, Dean caught her by the elbow. “Are you sure about this? I can go with you if you’d like. My foot is fine. Maybe having your fiancé there will give you a boost.”
Emilie turned around and met the hope and desire in his eyes. Her heart stuttered; it was too much. Their fake engagement was an unwanted speed bump in her plans, and she couldn’t lose him as a friend. “Thank you for the offer, but your fake-fiancé duties aren’t needed. It’s something I want to do on my own.” She turned away before she could read any emotion in his face.
“Can we talk later?” he asked. She could tell he didn’t want to leave. “Let me help you unpack first, then I’ll drive you there. After all, you’re not in this alone.”
With some hesitation, she slipped an arm around his waist and led him toward the stairs. “I have to get ready, and I can’t if we’re unpacking. I’ll be fine; I promise.”
After thanking him and assuring him three more times that she’d be fine, she shut the front door, closing Dean out.
She sighed, a little from sadness, but mostly from relief. Meeting Ava alone would be best. Forgiveness didn’t mean forgetting, but she’d promised herself she’d give living here an honest try, and that meant dealing with how she felt about Ava.
She sent Ava a text and headed upstairs to dig through her clothes boxes. Without too much trouble, she found a pair of jean shorts, a black blouse, and a pair of old, brown sandals. It wasn’t the most put-together look, but it was better than the clown outfit Dean had lent her.
After changing, she found a brush and ran it through her damp hair. She scanned the front room. There were still a few boxes in her car and in the front room to unpack, but if she started on those, she’d be late. She picked up the borrowed clothes and headed to the kitchen for a bag.
Before she knew it, she was sniffing them, remembering the fun they’d had earlier. The smell of Dean’s laundry soap clung to his clothes. The water fight from earlier was still fresh in her mind. It was hands down the best part of her day. Why couldn’t things with Dean always be simple and fun? He’d made coming home a dozen times easier. Guilt rested on her shoulders for giving him a hasty goodbye. After all he’d done, he deserved a lot more than that. Maybe, if there was time after dinner, she’d bring him a package of his favorite cinnamon bear candy.
After locking up the house, she turned to her disaster of a car. Most of the bigger boxes were gone, but the little odds and ends she’d wedged in between them stuck out like sore thumbs. She glanced up the street. It’d only take her fifteen minutes if she walked.
She shoved her keys into her pocket and headed toward Main Street. It would feel good to get this burden off her shoulders. Once she said what she needed to say, she could move on and not look back.
10
Dean
After Emilie left, Dean drove to her house and brought the last of the boxes down to her room. It had hurt when she pushed him away, but he chalked it up to nerves. He needed to clean out her car, and then she’d be set. Some papers lay crumpled to one side. He gathered them and a few odds and ends to put in a box for her to go through later.
As he organized, he whistled. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so happy. Having Emilie around improved his mood greatly, but it was more than that. Being fake engaged to her felt like the closest he’d ever gotten to being out of the friend zone. He’d imagined what it would be like to date her, but here was a real chance to test it out.
His hard work in the basement had paid off. It was enough to see her genuine excitement.
As he leaned into the car to grab a box of bobby pins, something tapped his shoulder. He backed out of the car quickly and spun to see Gail.
“I thought that was you.” Gail swept her long, black hair over her shoulder. She had the same features as Ava: dark hair, beautiful tanned skin, and long legs, but there was a softness to her face and wrinkles at the corner of her eyes when she smiled that Ava didn’t have.
Dean released the breath he’d been holding and nodded, glad Emilie hadn’t caught him cleaning her car. “Gail, how are you?”
She smiled and patted his arm. “I’m great. I saw Emilie’s car and wanted to welcome her home.” She lifted a loaf of cinnamon bread wrapped in red plastic wrap. “Made it fresh.”
“Oh, I bet she’ll love that.” From his own experience, he knew exactly how the bread would taste. Gail always made the best breads. “She went to have dinner with—” He paused, not wanting to bring up Ava.
