Page 66 of Make It Without You

But, love? No. It can’t be.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Tammy observes from the prep station.

I shake my head out of the thoughts they turned to. “It’s nothing.”

She regards me carefully. “If you say so. The menu is finalized. We’re going to keep it simple but also sensual.”

For the next hour, we go over the menu. We make small tweaks and decide which wine and bourbon to pair the meals. By the time we’re finished, it’s closer to four. When I check my phone, I see a text from Jenny.

Jenny: Class got out early so I picked up Dylan.

Jenny: Feel free to not rush home.

Me: Are you telling me not to come to my house?

Jenny: I’m telling you to hang out with someone else.

Me: Stop talking about me in your group chat.

Jenny: Can’t help it. See you later!

Not wanting to head back down to my office, I walk to the bar and take a seat. Jenny is giving me the push I need to see Emily. But do I rush her?

Me: Hey, baby.

Emily: Hi, handsome.

Me: *puffs out chest* What are you up to?

Emily: *takes needle to deflate chest* Walking to my car.

Me: How would you feel about dinner cooked by me?

Emily: I would love that. When are you coming over?

Me: I’ll be there in an hour.

Emily: See you soon *kiss face*

The smellof garlic permeates the air asHozier’svoice floats through Emily’s expansive apartment while she enjoys a glass of wine on her balcony.

When I got here she offered to help, but I quickly shut that down. I like cooking for her, and I noticed when I cooked her breakfast, she liked watching me. But tonight I want her to relax. The end of the school year is tough on teachers. So the more weight I can take off her shoulders, the better.

I serve up our food and place everything on the table. Emily must be engrossed in her book because she hasn’t looked up once.

Making my way to her balcony, she doesn’t even flinch when I squat down next to her. “Hey, baby. Dinner’s done.” She looks at me with flushed cheeks and blown pupils. “What are you reading?”

“Nothing,” she says and tries to lock her Kindle but I swipe it from her.

I ignore her weak protests and read a little of the page she was on. And what I see is explicit. And hot as hell. “What is this book about?”

“A book about a gymnast and her coach.” Emily says and takes a sip of wine.

“That’s legal?”

“It’s fiction, baby,” Emily says if I don’t already know.

I hand her Kindle back to her. “I would hope so. Let’s go, my little reader. And you can tell me all about the books you read.”

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