know, sweetie.” She strokes my back, just like she used to when I was sick or upset as a kid. “I should never have mentioned your dad. Not when you’re tired out from a long trip.”
“No. Mom, it’s fine. We need to be able to talk about Dad.”
“Even his dimples?” she asks with a wry smile.
“They were pretty good dimples.”
“Oh, yes, they were. I always told him if it wasn’t for those dimples of his, I would never have taken a second look at him in high school.” She smiles at the memory, before her features grow more serious. “I get it. I know what you’re feeling. We lost your dad to cancer, and now you’re worried you’re going to lose me. But, honey, that’s not going to happen. I promise you. We caught this early, and Dr. Michaels says I’ve got a real good chance here. So, don’t you go worrying about your old mom.”
I give her a watery smile. “I always worry about my old mom.” I nudge her lightly with my elbow.
She shakes her head as she laughs. “Less of the old, thank you.”
Aunt Judy enters the room with a tray with a jug of iced tea, tall glasses, and a stack of chocolate chip cookies. “I baked some of your favorite cookies, Emma, to welcome you back home.”
With a better grip on my emotions, I reply, “You’re the best, Aunt Judy,” and we spend the next hour eating and drinking and talking about anything but my Mom’s impending surgery and the radiation that follows. Although I already miss Sebastian like the desert misses the rain, it feels good to be home, home in my family’s unconditional love. Home where I can be myself and don’t even have to try.
I hear my phone’s ringtone coming from my bedroom down the hall, and I excuse myself to go answer it, hoping it’s Sebastian. After the long flight, I’m feeling a little woozy, like I’m not quite in the room, and I’d love nothing more than to hear Sebastian’s voice. And then sleep.
Definitely sleep.
I pick up my phone and see it’s not Sebastian calling. It’s Jilly. Although the last time I saw her wasn’t exactly the greatest moment—Kissgate with Chris Hampshire in the great hall—I’m pleased she’s calling me. It must mean she’s had a chance to cool down and remember we’re friends.
“Hey, Jilly. It’s so nice to hear from you.”
“Is that all you’ve got to say for yourself? It’s nice to hear from me? Really, Emma, I would have thought you’d have had a script all organized and ready to go by now.”
“A script?” I ask, pulling my brows together. She’s clearly still pretty angry. “Look, Jilly, I know you’re probably still upset with me about the thing with Chris last night. Was it last night? I’m so out of it right now, I barely know which way is up.”
“I bet you don’t, juggling two men the way you have been. You must barely get any time to sleep at all.”
“I’m not juggling two men, Jilly,” I say in exasperation. “He kissed me, and I definitely never did anything to encourage him.”
“I’m not talking about you kissing him. I’m talking about the affair you two have been having behind everyone’s backs.”
“Oh, come on, Jilly! That’s insane. I’m not having an affair.” I rub my eyes, tiredness, jetlag, and the stress of the last twenty-four hours hitting me. “I’ve been on a flight forever, I’ve only just got to my Mom’s house, and I’m totally shattered. Can we talk another time? Like when my brain’s working right?”
And you’ve calmed the heck down?
“How could you do it, Emma? How could you do it to Sebby? Oh, what am I talking about? Of course, Jilly. Silly me. I know how you could do it. He’s catnip. He’s impossible to resist.”
She might not be over Kissgate, but I am definitely over this conversation.
“I’m gonna go now, Jilly.”
“So, you’ve got nothing to say? No comment on all those photos?”
Alarm forces it through the quagmire of my brain. “What photos?”
“Don’t play innocent with me, missy.”
Missy?
“Jilly, I don’t know about any photos.”
“I’ve just sent you a link.”
I open her message and click on the link. It takes me to a site that screams in bold letters, Mr. Darcy’s Emma is a love rat!
What the…?
I scroll down and see a series of images of me with Chris that day I bumped into him at Mia’s Café. There’s one of us sitting at the café together, looking