Page 25 of Pretty Heartache

“Now, enough of that,” I say, slapping my hands on my thighs. I look at the bags of clothes. “You didn’t have to bring this many outfits over. I figured you were bringing a few shirts and pants, that’s it. At least enough to hold me over until I can go shopping.”

“How have you been getting around? I didn’t see your car in the driveway. I’m assuming you don’t have it since you flew here.”

“Ruby has it.” I swallow. “I’m not sure how I’ll get it here, and I’m not sure I’ll bother. So far, I’ve just ordered rideshares, but I can’t keep that up for long.”

I hide my true financial situation from her. Living as a freelance model in Los Angeles was already proving to be a challenge, but now that I’ve cut off all of my work, I’m living on the bits I have left saved from my last shoot.

“I’ll do what I can to help,” my best friend offers.

“Thank you.” My chest warms as my eyes fall to the bags. “Now, about these clothes.”

“These are only a few,” she says, nonchalantly.

Ember is delusional when it comes to makeup and fashion, but I guess you could say I am, too. Though I like to believe I’m a bit more reasonable.

“Besides,” Ember adds as she picks up the top bag and holds it up. Her mouth spreads into a wide grin. “This one is a little something special.”

“What is it?”

“Now, I know you haven’t been back long, and you’re probably going to say no, but...” She lowers the zipper, revealing a small peek into the bag.

Silver sequins shine through the small opening.

I cross my arms over my chest and tilt my head at my best friend. “Ember, no.” I know where this leads.

“Come on.” She pouts, her shoulders deflating. “With my birthday in a few weeks, and yours only a few weeks ago, I thought this would be the perfect outfit to celebrate. I wasn’t there for yours, and you’ll be here for mine. We can celebrate together.”

“I don’t think I feel much like going out.”

“How do you know how you’ll feel in a few weeks?” She rocks from side to side, waving the garment bag in my face. “You never know,” she sings.

I nervously look around the room. “I have a ton of stuff to do around the house still.”

“You have plenty of time to work on it.” She waves me off. “Just look at this dress, and maybe that will convince you.”

She begins to pull the dress from the bag, slipping the bottom out from the base of the bag, but she stops when both of us snap our heads in the direction of the front door.

Cool air breezes in behind Micah as he steps into the entryway, shutting the door behind him. I haven’t seen him since the night we ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in the kitchen on plates as old as this house.

My lips part, and I breathe in a quick rush of air at the sight of him.

He stops in the entryway, in direct line of sight of Ember and me.

“Hi,” I say, stunned to see him here.

“Hi,” he says back.

I feel Ember’s eyes on me, bouncing back and forth between the two of us. She slowly lowers the dress down onto the back of the sofa.

“I just got back in today and thought I would make a list of everything that needs work upstairs,” Micah says.

“Oh.” I give Ember a side glance. “I’m sorry. Was I supposed to do that for you? I’ve been trying to work on the small things before I tackled the bigger repairs.”

“It’s okay.” He rakes his fingers through his hair, making the muscles in his arms flex and tense. Muscles usually hidden beneath the sleeves of a collared shirt and suit jacket. Corded muscle strains against the dark blue sleeves of his fitted T-shirt. “It needs to be done either way, so I figured I’d get started on it.”

“Okay.” I nod.

Micah’s eyes move to Ember. “Hi, Ember.”

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