Page 83 of Summertime Friends

Everything I said to Emerson was true, except I want her to see past our past for me, too. Our lives might not be crossed romantically anymore, but they are crossed. I’ve ached to be back in her life. The same aching I felt before I finally told her I loved her.

Before last week, I’d take anything she’d give me. But how was I supposed to know that we both had unfinished business cooped up inside of us? That’s a bloody lie. Unfinished business is our calling card, the award we’d each win in this life.

It seemed pretty clear after the summer that we split—Emerson moved on. I was hurt, thinking we meant so little to her that she could just get over it. I did my best to move on. It wasn’t until meeting Natalie that I became remotely alive again. I guess it makes sense; she and Emerson are best friends.

“Oh shit.” Natalie is up, glancing past me at the bedside table clock. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“What’s wrong?” I ask her.

“I have to be at a studio in the Loop. . . an hour ago! Shit.”

“Isn’t that on Wednesday?”

“It is Wednesday, Liam.” Natalie rolls her eyes at me. She jumps out of bed, pulls on a pair of leggings and a cropped, ribbed black tank top, and rushes into the bathroom while slipping her arms through a V-neck sweatshirt.

“Won’t you be hot in the jumper?” I ask her.

“No, the studio is always cold.”

I can overhear her on the phone in the bathroom. “Dave, I overslept—completely my fault. Yeah, yeah, I will be there in twenty minutes tops.” She’s moving frantically, braiding her hair and cleaning her face and teeth. “Calling an Uber now.” She releases a sigh. “Thank you for not being mad. Yeah, see everyone soon.”

Natalie is unnaturally naturally beautiful. She knows it but still layers herself with makeup, hair, and clothes—industry and society pressure has to be it. Otherwise, I think she wouldn’t even touch half of it, maybe her hair; she smiles bigger when doing it, even if it is only a braid.

“You look beautiful this morning,” I tell her, regretting the comment as soon as it leaves my mouth because only moments ago, I was thinking about how beautiful Emerson is—her best friend Emerson, and Natalie doesn’t even know.

Regret is starting to lose its meaning and ability to be black and white. It’s a gray zone between regretting what I’m doing to Emerson and what I’m doing to Natalie. What am I even doing to her? What even is this between her and me?

We aren’t dating. We’ve honestly never slept together, either. Tried, but Natalie stopped it. She won’t tell me why.

I should call it, but that’s an inner battle I’d rather not face this morning.

“Thank you.” She smiles over at me, her cheeks blushing.

I slip out of bed and slip on my jumper before following her to the kitchen, where I find a bar stool.

“I’ll be back this afternoon. I have back-to-back meetings this morning. . .” Her mouth and feet move at light speed. I can barely make out what she’s saying because she’s talking so fast.

“Cal lands today,” I remind her when there is a break between sentences. “We’re adding shopping to our already long list of fun things to get done.”

“Shopping for new hotels isn’t fun?” Her eyes widen in exaggeration.

“Shouldn’t you be going? Don’t want to be later than you are?”

“Dinner tonight? The three of us, or I can ask Emme if she wants to come.” Natalie tosses about fifteen items into a tiny purse that must be a clown bag in disguise. “Wait—you never told me how your walk home with her went?” she asks, her tone turning methodical.

“Lovely. Emerson is—lovely.” George’s laugh rings in my ears at the word choice to describe States. Lovely.

“Told you you’d love her.”Yeah, yeah, I do love her.

There’s a mad sort of grin on her face. It’s gone within a minute.

Natalie drops a kiss on my cheek before rushing out the front door.

Rummaging through her cabinets, I find a filter and grounds. I turn the bag to read it. Vanilla-flavored? Ew. Does no one prefer a plain black mug of coffee?

Emerson does.

Still, make a pot anyway. When the trickle of coffee begins brewing, I return to Natalie’s bedroom to grab my phone. Shoot off a text to Cal first.

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