Page 28 of The Hardest Part

With a squeeze to her shoulder, he smiled at her. “Yeah, you are. They care about you, Arien.”

“Because they got me nice things?” A single eyebrow lifting, she cocked her head.

“No, because they’re making the effort to really know you. They want you to be happy here.” Slipping his arm around Arien, Billy hugged her. “See, when you love someone, how they’re feelin’ matters to you.”

“They don’t love me,” she scoffed with a flip of her blonde waves. “Not like that, anyway.”

“No? Tanner tells me he and Kellan built you a coffee bar—brought your precious Starbucks home for you.” He gently turned her, looking her in the eye. “Love ain’t all flowery words like the storybooks, and it don’t always look like it does in the movies.”

“What is it, then?”

“Love is wonderful. It begins as an emotion and grows into a verb.” Arien stared back at him, a blank expression on her pretty face. “It’s being understood—the feeling that another person just gets you, ya know?”

She answered with a shake of her head.

“It don’t mean you agree on all things, but you still feel accepted despite your differences. You feel…seen—safe and comfortable in their presence. And that makes you wanna do things for them that might be out of character for you.”

Her brow knit in thought, and she smiled. “Like building a coffee bar?”

“Exactly like that.”You’re gettin’ it, girly.“You feel drawn to wanting to know them and you want them to know you, too. You find yourself sharing both good and bad news with them before anybody else. You think about ‘em differently and can’t imaginewhat your life would be like if they weren’t in it. Hell, you don’t even want to.”

“Is that how you feel about Emily?”

At the mention of his beloved’s name, a tender smile rose. Billy nodded. “I’ve loved her for as long as I can remember, even before I knew that’s what I was feelin’, ya know?”

Arien only shrugged.

“When you don’t have to ask yourself if you love someone, you know you do. Because love feels more like an answer than a question.”

Her lip disappeared behind her teeth, then she asked, “Do you think it’s harder for Jake to wait for something he’s never had, or will it be harder for you to wait to get it back?”

Billy didn’t need the reminder. Emily’s birthday was just a few short months from now.April.There wasn’t much time with her left.

“Don’t rightly know.” He swallowed, the saliva sticking in his throat, and helped Arien up onto Daisy’s back. “You and Em have a good ride now. See ya tonight?”

“Of course. And Billy?” She leaned down and kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks.”

Don’t mention it.

Emily hoped Jake loved the birthday gift she gave him. Meticulously wrapped in shiny blue paper, she’d chosen it with great care. He loved old things, so when she spied the leather-bound journal in the antique shop, its brittle pages just waiting for words to be carefully written upon them, she snagged it withthe thought she’d found him the perfect present. A vintage desk set with a dip pen, ink well, and a pot of India ink completed it.

But then Emily thought her mama would swoon over the authentic Tiffany lamp she got for her desk in the office she rarely used. Hidden away in a dusty corner of the antique shop, she nearly squealed out loud when she saw a fifty-dollar price tag on it andTIFFANY STUDIOS NEW YORKmarked on the inside rim of the glass shade in all capital letters. The shopkeeper obviously didn’t know what he had, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to enlighten him.

Vivid colors of green and blue, red and gold, bounced off blanched white walls. Fingering the stained glass on Christmas morning, her mother simply said, “It’s lovely, Emily. Thank you.”

Lovely? No, it’s fucking stunning, and I got it for a steal!

She wanted to shake her, scream at her, and wake her up from her boring, achromatic existence.

“Maybe that’s just her preference, honey.” Her future father-in-law shrugged.

“Do you paint without color?”

“Sometimes. Black and white is timeless, classic, and beautiful.”

Justin’s gaze followed hers. One look at Kimberly Brooks Keough told her differently. She stood off to the side, sipping on a glass of champagne alone, while she watched everyone else making merry with their significant others.

“Okay, maybe she’s feeling a little blue,” he conceded, his head tipping to the side. The twinkling luminescence of lights from the tree caught in his long pale hair. “The holidays can have that effect on some people.”

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