Page 11 of The Perfect Heart

“I have a big table with a bunch of drink orders, and I can’t get them all like you guys can yet. Could you help me?”

I offered a smile, but all I got in return was a flat stare before Nicole huffed.

“I guess you’d better practice, then. You need a lot of it.”

The only thing I could do was stare as the woman disappeared around the corner of the bar, my mouth opening without any words coming out.

“Woah. I knew she was a bitch, but I had yet to see it first-hand.”

Those were the right words, the words I hadn’t been able to say, and they had come from a familiar face.

“Emily?”

The woman winked, her grin conspiratorial. “Not that anyone needs any more proof with the look on her face she goes around wearing.”

I laughed, relieved to share my shock with someone else. It helped with the embarrassment.

“I can’t believe it’s you.” And I couldn’t. I had gone to school with Emily, and we had both left after graduation and, unfortunately, hadn’t stayed in touch. Now I was grateful to see another friendly, familiar face.

“Give me a second to deliver these drinks—I’ll have to make two trips—and we’ll catch up.” I picked up several of the glasses and then stopped. “You can stay, right?”

Emily lifted her wine glass. “I’ll be here.”

“Great. Be right back.”

She was, as she said, still sitting there when I returned, and we greeted each other with a hug. She had changed, of course—we all had—cutting her black hair into a chic bob, the clothing still all black but fashionable now, even bundled against the cold as she was.

“So what are you doing here?” I asked. “I thought you had moved east.”

“I did, but then my dad got sick, and I moved back home to help Mom care for him.” Emily plucked an olive from a toothpick with her teeth. I didn’t ask about the olive with the glass of wine.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” And I was. I hadn’t spent much time with her parents, but they had seemed nice.

“Well, at least it’s cheaper to live out here, and Seattle is only a couple of hours away if I need some time in the city.” She shrugged, taking another sip of wine. “And, hey, out here, I’m a hotshot realtor. Back in the city, getting lost in the jumble was too easy.”

“You’re a realtor?” I laughed again, this time with delight. “You and Nash are both living out your dreams.”

Emily had been a devotee of all the realty reality shows in high school—all those hours had gone to something good.

Emily’s smile brightened her face as she nodded in agreement. “And you? Last I heard, you were in LA in design school.”

I felt my smile falter and held it up as best I could, covering my discomfort with a shrug as I grabbed a rag from behind the counter and swiped at crumbs—it was becoming my nervous habit.

“I needed a change, so I came back here. I’m back in town until I figure out what I want to do next.”

Emily’s eyebrows rose at my vague response, but I didn’t offer anything further. And thankfully, she didn’t push. Instead, she downed the rest of her wine before offering me her phone.

“Put your number in here, and we can meet up for drinks next time we have a free day, okay?”

I brightened. “That would be great.”

We exchanged numbers, and I spent the rest of the day feeling sunnier—between my job and making new, or new-old, friends, maybe things were finally starting to look up.

At least, until I got home that evening and found someone had torn it apart. For minutes, all I could do was stand there and stare at the mess of overturned furniture and torn pillows, my clothing flung around the floor.

I nearly called Nash back and then thought to call the police. But that would only lead to questions, answers, and attention I desperately didn’t want. Locking all my locks, I dragged the old, solid-wood bureau across the door this time for good measure and sat on the bed, legs drawn up, trying to calm my racing heart and mind with a single question: Had a random person broken in, or had my husband found me and was trying to send a message?

Chapter 6