Now and Again Page 5

She's going to kill him.

  He's ten minutes late when he arrives at Everything But. They're closed and the shop's door says "Bad Timing," but it's unlocked.

  He wonders if Em knows or cares how transparent she is, texting to demand that they meet at her mom's shop. Not only couldn't she stand a conversation with him if it's not one hundred percent necessary, but she wants the home field advantage.

  She probably knows he realizes that. And then she'd probably decided that having said advantage outweighed any negatives.

  The bell tinkles gently as he enters and Em jerks her head up from where she'd been leaning over a sheaf of papers. Her eyes widen and she tugs on her ear at the sight of Cole's dog.

  "If you bring that thing in here, I will kill you. Truce off," she says seriously, moving from behind the counter. Had he called it, or had he called it? She extends her hands, palms wide as though warding off the dog in advance.

  "Look, I'm sorry," Cole apologizes, unhooking Toto's leash from his collar. The dog bounds gleefully into the shop. He prays that he doesn't break anything. Or eat anything. Some of Abby's crap looks expensive. "But he needs a lot of exercise and I got home from work late. I didn't have time to take him back home after our walk." He rolls his neck to release the tension. "I didn't know what else to do."

  "Not bringing Scooby Doo into my mom's store would have been job one." She watches Toto inspect the crevices of the floor. "When did you get a dog?"

  "I'm dog-sitting. And come on, he'll be fine while we work. He's just one little dog," he wheedles. It's not like he can tie him up outside. Even at eight o'clock, it's too warm out and there's no way he's going to chance Toto running out into traffic. Quite aside from his boss murdering him if anything happened to the dog, Cole likes the mutt.

  "That is not a dog." She seizes a decorative table as Toto bumps into it and it wobbles dangerously. "That is a horse." She eyes the dog warily as he sniffs at her knee, flinching as his cold nose bumps her.

  "He's a Great Dane. And his name is Toto," Cole says. He winces when Toto leaps up and barks in Em's face, paws squarely on her shoulders. She stumbles under his weight.

  "Look," he says weakly. "He likes you."

  She answers with an exasperated glare, shoving the dog's paws off of her. "Come on," she sighs. "There's less chance that you'll leave with a bill tonight if we just go upstairs and bring Seabiscuit with us. And there's the additional upside that I won't have to restock Mom's entire inventory either."

  "Upstairs?"

  "Mm. I live above the shop." She eyes him strangely. "Nikki told you this at the dress store the other day, remember?"

  He does, but he'd also been very busy trying to keep his head afloat and not get pulled under by the river of awkward at said store.

  "It's good for me and good for Mom. She gets someone to look after the store and I have a very short commute. And a little extra cash while I job hunt doesn't hurt either." Em brushes at the dog hair that Toto has already left behind on her black pants and tucks an errant strand of her own hair behind her ear.

  "Of course," he murmurs, following behind her as they start to climb the stairs, Nikki's wedding "bible" clutched in her arms. He tries not to watch as her hips move from side to side with each step. Toto's tags jingle and his claws click on the wood floor as he follows behind them.

  "Why on earth would someone name a giant like that Toto?" Em throws behind her. "If I remember The Wizard of Oz correctly, Toto was a nice, small dog."

  "My boss appreciates irony. And so do I." He volleys the conversation back to her easily and walks into her studio.

  His immediate reaction when he sees the boxes still stacked high around the room is to laugh. It's a familiar scene, Em among the boxes. Just like her dorm room. It doesn't look like she's unpacked a single one. Irony is one thing, but this is ridiculous.

  "I love what you've done with the place."

  She glares at him. "It's my mom's stuff and some of my things from college. I just brought a duffel bag back home from California. It's not like this is permanent."

  Right. She isn't staying. He nods and tucks his hands into his pockets. "How's the job hunt going, by the way?"

  "I don't know… not terrible, I guess?" He caught her by surprise with the question. She shuffles her feet, not comfortable admitting any sort of shortcoming. "I haven't had any real bites yet, but I have a phone interview in a couple of days."

  Changing the subject, she deftly maneuvers around the boxes and into the kitchen. "Does the beast need any water?"

  Cole watches, thinking again how familiar all of this is: Abby's stuff or not, when they'd been in college, she hadn't unpacked in the apartment that they'd lived in from sophomore year to graduation until he and Nikki had started doing it for her three months after they'd moved in.

  She hasn't changed a bit.

  He's not sure if that's a good or bad thing.

  ∞

  Two hours later, he rubs his eyes with the heel of his hand. Settled onto the daybed that doubles as Em's couch, progress has been made, albeit haltingly. Em will have rein over the bridesmaids: their dresses, colors, and floral arrangements. And Cole will take care of the food. Mostly because Em's idea of quality cuisine has always been takeout or a microwaveable meal for one. With luck, the venue will help them figure out the rest.

  He tries to volunteer to find the venue, but she shoots him down flat.

  "Food's one thing," she tells him. "People will eat whatever free meal you put in front of them. If you've got venue ideas, that's fine, but there's no way we're booking them unless I see them too."

  "Fine," he agrees tiredly. It's late. They've been at this for hours. "But I'm telling you there's no way we'll get an appointment to see this place. I already called and they don't have any times to show us for a month, especially since Nikki and Ron haven't set a date yet and it's not like we can book it."

  She shakes her head. "Even if we had a date to work with, I'm sorry, but I'm not going to book the place, sight unseen. Whether you've been there before or not."

  He opens his mouth to say something, but stops before speaking. She narrows her eyes at him; she has too much past experience with his body language and tells— those small betrayals that his face gives of his inward thoughts— to miss it. "What?"

  "There is… one way we could see it," he says hesitantly.

  Her gaze turns suspicious. "And what's that?"

  He hesitates again. He can't believe he's saying this. Part of him thinks he should stop before he starts. "I'm going to a wedding there in a couple of weeks," he gets out slowly. "But I don't have a plus one yet..." Here, he trails off vaguely, but the intent is clear.

  Em's face is inscrutable— even to him. She may still know his tells, but it's been too long since he was fluent in the minute alterations in her expression— the almost imperceptible crinkles of her eyes, the barest tightening of her lips. It's like finding a blank page in a story he's read hundreds of times.

  Finally, though, she blurts a response. "Fine."

  His head jerks up, thinking for a moment that he can't have heard her correctly. "Yeah?"

  "Yeah." She stands and promptly trips over Toto, where he'd curled beside the daybed. She reddens.

  Cole wants to laugh again. This is perfect. Not only will he be able to get her to relax at the wedding, but he knows Tori will be there. Maybe having Em with him will be enough to keep her at bay. "Okay, then," he says, rising to his feet. "We can check out a couple of other places in the meantime. And I guess I'll call you with the details?"

  "That's fine," Em's tone is businesslike: deliberately clipped and detached as she busies herself with straightening a pillow. Cole holds out his hand and Em looks at it unreadably for a moment. After a second, she grabs his hand and shakes it firmly.

  And in that second, his pulse jumps. He looks at the top of Em's bowed head. She refuses to meet his eyes. Her grip is tough, at odds with the soft palm in his hand. His grasp on her hand softens. His thumb rubs
over hers—and once again, she drops his hand like it's scalded her and steps away.

  She clears her throat, one hand resting on her neck. "I'll be in touch."

  And she indicates the door.

  EIGHT

  EM

  ∞ Then ∞

  Sophomore Year

  "Ow! Careful!"

  In response to his reprimand, I scowled at Cole over the top of my headboard, my arms straining to keep from dropping it as we entered the front door of our new off-campus apartment. "You try being careful when you're the one carrying more than half the weight," I grunted.

  "That's so funny," he said, and readjusted his grip. "Because I seem to be managing exactly that just fine."

  We finally made it to my new bedroom and collapsed, exhausted, on the mattress we carried in earlier. I swatted him half-heartedly. "Asshole."

  "Ungrateful."

  We grinned at each other, the insults familiar and well-worn by now.

  "You know," Ron panted as he and my dad entered the room, struggling beneath the weight of my dresser, "if the two of you don't get your asses up and stop being lazy, I'm going to kill you both."

  Nikki's new boyfriend was an absolute peach. The two of them had started dating over the summer and were already totally smitten with each other. When she'd mentioned that we were getting an apartment with Cole, not only had he not shown even a hint of jealousy at the idea of his girlfriend living with another dude, but he'd volunteered to help us move in. She hadn't even needed to ask.

  Her parents would be here with her things tomorrow, but Ron was a sweet guy. He was helping me and Cole with our stuff, too.

  I leapt up to motion them over to the wall where I wanted to set up my dresser. That was the last of my furniture for now. I'd found the small set through a friend of a friend and I figured I'd get a desk at Ikea or something at a later date.

  Nikki and my mom joined us and each dropped a box on the floor.

  "Is that everything, honey?" Mom crossed to where Dad stood and wrapped her arms around him.

  "I think so." I had bags of clothes in my closet, and a few favorite decorations that I'd accumulated over the past year still in my car. I could handle bringing those in on my own.

  Dad ducked to peer out the window. "You didn't tell us you had a view!"

  Mom and I exchanged an amused glance. "That's because my view is of the parking lot, Dad."

  "Bright side, Emily." Dad turned around to grin at me. "Always look at the bright side."

  "Emily?" Cole repeated, brows raised in delight.

  "Don't even think about it," I said quickly. Dad was the only one I let get away with that. He had a weird obsession with Sinatra's 'Emily.' I normally didn't even like it when people called me Emmeline and that was actually my name.

  "All silver bells, coral shells…" Dad crooned with a grin.

  "You'll only encourage Cole. Don't you start," I said, but a reluctant smile tugged at my lips. My childhood had been filled with Sinatra songs, but none so much as Emily.

  "I don't know this song, but it sounds far too kindly to be describing our Em," said Cole.

  "Ah, that's just because her guard is still up," Dad said. He grabbed me in a loose hug. "Get in her good graces and—"

  "You're ruining my reputation, Dad." I broke away and leveled him with a look. "You've given me no choice but to kill you."

  Wounded, he clutched at his heart, still grinning. His arms dropped. "All right, enough joking around. I'm starved. All hard labor and no lunch makes Roger a grumpy boy." He nodded to Cole, Nikki, and Ron. "Do the three of you want to come? Consider it payment for helping us get Emily here moved in."

  "I'm sure Emmeline is grateful," Mom cut in, with a roll of her eyes.

  Nikki and Ron begged off, but Cole hesitated, his eyes going to mine.

  Come, I tried to project; tried to beam the thought from my mind straight into his. He blinked, and I had a wild moment where I thought, message received.

  He stepped back. "I'm afraid it's a no from me, too. Got a lot of unpacking to do. Thanks for the offer, though."

  Now I was the one rolling my eyes. "Spoilsport."

  "Listen, just because you take forever to unpack—"

  "Hey, I'm not under any delusions that you're going to let me keep my shit packed away for long now that we live together." We both relaxed into the familiar banter, bypassing the moment of something more, something on the cusp, something…

  Just… something.

  Mom picked up her purse by outside the doorway. "Come on, honey. Your father's not the only one who's starving and you know how I get when I'm hungry."

  Cole's expression softened and he tilted his head toward the door. "Go," he said. "Have fun with your parents. I'll be here when you get back."

  NINE

  EM

  ∞ Now ∞

  "My weaknesses?"

  I straighten and smooth down my hair, though the interviewer on the other end of the phone can't see me. Or the fact that I'm still in my pajamas.

  After all, Mom doesn't open the shop on Mondays. Why on earth would I subject myself to confining pants—or worse, a bra—when there's no one around to see me?

  "I'd say that my biggest weakness is I struggle with delegating. It's hard for me to loosen the reins since I prefer to oversee a project to completion myself, to make sure it's finished properly."

  "Mm… hmm." I hear the click of a keyboard as the woman on the other end of the line makes notes on my answers. "Well, I think that's all of my questions, Ms. Hayes. We'll be in touch when we make a decision."

  I clutch my cell closer. "Thank you so much for your time. Around when should I expect—"

  Click.

  Mother—A frustrated sigh hisses out. I'd thought that it had been going well, too. Nevertheless, I send them a quick e-mail thanking them for their time and consideration, and schedule a reminder on my phone to follow-up with the company in a week.

  My phone rings—a jaunty pre-installed instrumental that blares out—and I punch the green accept button on my screen.

  Nikki's voice sounds strained when I answer. "Can I come over?" she asks. "Mom Jennings and I got into it again today and I just need—"

  "Of course you can." I frown. "You okay?"

  "Fine." Her voice has gotten higher now; a sure sign that she's lying. "I'll bring some food? You want Chinese?

  "Sure."

  "Great. See you in a little bit."

  Nikki's practically vibrating with pent-up energy when I let her in, clutching delicious-smelling bags of noodles and soup. "Did you get fortune cookies, too?" I ask as I latch the door.

  She shoots me a frank look. "What am I, an amateur?"

  ∞

  "I don't think she likes me. I'm not sure she ever has," Nikki says. She unwraps her fortune cookie. "Ah, see! 'If you want the rainbow, you must put up with the rain,'" she reads dramatically. "Proof." She shakes the piece of paper at me and pops the cookie in her mouth. "Ron is the rainbow and Rhonda is the rain."

  "I still can't believe his mom was self-important enough to name her son after herself." I peer into the box. I've long since given up on convincing Nikki that fortune cookies are vague enough to be twisted into situations applicable to everyone's lives. They'd been a staple at our apartment in college, if only because we loved adding the phrase 'in bed' to the ends of them.

  "Yeah, and she's furious that I went behind her back to 'hire an unvetted planner.'" She crunches down violently on the cookie. "I had to listen to her harangue me for the whole half-hour I get for my lunch today. At least she didn't bother Ron with this. He's super stressed and his residency is killer right now. Sometimes, I wish we could get away from all of this; that it was just him and me."

  She huffs out a breath and tosses her fortune aside, crossing her legs beneath her on the bed. "Enough about the world doing its best to keep my fiancé away from me." She tosses a watery smile my way. "Thanks for letting me vent."

  "Anytime. You know t
hat."

  Stretching, she pulls her ponytail loose from its elastic and her curls fray about her head. "How's wedding planning going?"

  Wiping my mouth with a napkin, I bob my head. "Good, good."

  I squirm as she looks at me knowingly. "And how was one-on-one time with Cole?"

  It feels like there's too much air and not enough. Nikki's eyes glint and something clicks into place. My mouth opens and closes in realization and I gasp, pointing an accusing finger at her. "J'accuse!" I exclaim. "You did this on purpose, didn't you?"

  "You're damn right I did," she says, completely without guile. "The only dancing I want to do at my wedding is with Ron, not dancing around whatever weirdness there is between the two of you."

  "There's no weirdness…" But my mumble isn't even enough to convince me. "I had an idea though." Pushing off of the bed, I move to the mountain of boxes I have stacked around. "I thought that it might be cute if we include some sort of "Then and Now" display of you and Ron somewhere in the reception."

  "I love that," she says enthusiastically.

  I'd thought she might. I rummage into a likely-looking box, in search of an old scrapbook. "Crap, I know I had it around here somewhere." I dig deeper, head burrowing into the poorly-packed mementos. There. Perfect. "Victory!" I emerge, triumphant, hair disheveled and clutching a newspaper and bubble-wrapped object. I blow the dust off of it.

  She unscrews the cap of her water bottle and takes a swig. "Did you find it?"

  "I think so." I eye the package speculatively and set to unwrapping it. There's a 'pop' as I puncture the bubble wrap.

  The object inside is a wooden box. Not the scrapbook I was looking for. I deflate, heart sinking. Slowly, I turn the object over in my hands, already knowing what I'll see—not sure that I want to, but somehow I can't help myself.

  Nikki scoots forward on the daybed. I lay aside the last of the wrappings to reveal a shadowbox, the display bisected down the middle.

  "You still have that?" she asks, watching me carefully.

  "I… yeah," I say softly. Distantly. My hands trace the box's edges. "I sent this box home with Mom after graduation." I look up at Nikki, feeling a little helpless.