How to Steal Your Best Friend's Fiancé - London Casey Page 0,52
Or whatever. Not the mood. Not that there was a mood…”
“I know what you mean.”
“You don’t though. I have no idea why I started talking about Jon. I just think I felt comfortable talking to you. Sitting there with coffee. Just two friends…”
Friends. Right. Just friends. Always friends.
I nodded. “It’s okay. I kind of got defensive. I should be the one apologizing.”
“I’m not an idiot, Liam. I’m not the kind of woman that goes back to someone who hurt her.”
“I would never think that about you. And even if you were, I guess that’s something you have to figure out for yourself, right?”
“Right,” she said. “It was just nice to talk to you. After that, it got weird. We were kind of quiet. We both made up excuses to leave.”
She was right about that.
I wasn’t happy with myself for wanting to get away from her yesterday, but that was in the past.
“Then let’s just forget about it,” I said.
“That’s why I came here. I wanted to see what kind of wedding stuff we could tackle today.”
“How about nothing?” I asked.
“Nothing?”
“Forget about that stuff.”
That stuff. Just my wedding…
“Then what do you want to do?” Emily asked.
“You tell me. Pick something to do. I don’t feel like sitting around tonight and I don’t want to go out with the guys.”
“Not in the mood for a bar fight?” Emily teased.
“Hey, remember the time that kid punched Steve?” I asked.
“The kid that threw up?” Emily asked, her eyes going wide.
“Yeah,” I said. “What was his name?”
“Jeremy.”
“That’s right,” I said, snapping my fingers. “Steve had been picking on Jeremy all night. And Jeremy snapped. He punched Steve good. Steve knew it was coming and took the punch.”
“But then Jeremy ruined his legacy by throwing up because he was so scared,” Emily said.
“Poor guy,” I said. “He could have been a king.”
“I wonder what he’s doing now.”
“You should look him up,” I said. “Ask him out on a date.”
Emily laughed. “Oh, so you’re going to hook me up with someone?”
“I’ll be your wingman.”
“Do I wear the pretend engagement ring or not when that happens?” Emily asked, lifting her left eyebrow.
“You win,” I said.
She looked out the window again.
I told my mind, my heart, and my eyes to look at the desk or the back of her head.
Do not…
Do. Not.
… look… down…
“Music,” Emily said.
“What?”
“Music,” she said again. She turned around. “That music club. That’s what I feel like doing tonight. I’ve talked about going there for months. And I never have. I always find an excuse. You’ll make me go, right?”
“If that’s what you want, then yes,” I said.
“Done,” she said. “Meet me at my place tonight? I mean, outside my place.”
“Sure,” I said.
My desk phone started to ring.
“I’ve been waiting for that call all day,” I said. “Shit.”
“I’ll see you later then,” Emily said as she jogged toward the office door.
She left the office and I picked up the phone.
“Mr. Jenkins,” I said. “I’ve been waiting to hear from you…”
My mind suddenly didn’t give a damn about the call or that my job was probably teetering on the line, meaning I had to make Mr. Jenkins happy.
All I could think about was one question.
Were Emily and I going out on a date tonight?
Chapter Twenty-Four
Emily
This has nothing to do with his wedding. This has nothing to do with helping Miranda. This has nothing to do with… what?
I sucked in a very shaky breath as I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror.
There was a really big part of me that said what I was doing was wrong. Very wrong.
But how true was that?
I’ve known Liam for a long time. We never did anything. Maybe in my mind and heart I fantasized about it. And maybe those fantasies (which never came true, by the way) had somehow manifested themselves into something like memories, which meant spending time with Liam felt wrong.
When it wasn’t wrong at all.
We were two friends. Old friends.
We’re just-
The doorbell buzzed.
I exhaled the same shaky breath and dove out of the bathroom.
I looked down at myself.
More proof that tonight was just two friends hanging out.
I wore old shoes, my favorite jeans, and a long sleeve shirt. Nothing fancy at all. The comfy jeans were deemed that because they were worn, broken in, and believe me, they did nothing to help with my figure. Nothing was hugged. Nothing was showing off. Nothing was going to be tick-tocking Liam into submission.
When I opened the apartment door, Liam smiled, holding a single pink orchid.