Page 87 of Forbidden Hearts
“Fine, fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. Hey, you know what? Maybe I could meet you in Texas. I’m sure my dad would be cool with me taking a long weekend and giving him a reprieve.”
I grin. “You’re driving him that crazy?”
“I ask a lot of questions because he does things ass backwards in my opinion. Plus, when I’m home, he’s just strict. Mom is pretty laid-back and understands I’m twenty-four and a grown adult. Dad sometimes still sees me as little. I stayed at my sister’s last night, but she and her husband are still all touchy feely, so I left Millie’s. I tried to go to Felicity’s, but she’s really busy and had the kids in every activity. I’d hoped that, when we got older, it would be more even, but they’re just in a different place.” There’s a layer of sadness in my friend’s voice that hurts my heart.
“What about Audrey?”
Her face brightens at the mention of her twin sister. “Audrey is doing amazing in Paris and studying all the ways to make pastries.”
“I sort of envy that.”
“Me too. Especially because she met a guy and is all . . . in love.”
My heart flutters at that statement, but I lock it down. Hell no. I don’t want love. I don’t want to think about love. I want to dream of nothing but orgasms and walking away unscathed, thank you very much.
“Love is dumb,” I say, needing the reminder.
“I want love.”
That is sort of shocking. Emmeline is the opposite of me in so many ways. She’s strong, funny, smart, and hasn’t done any of the dumb shit I have when it comes to men. She’s careful and really deliberate about who she goes out with. The last guy chewed too aggressively, and she ended things over it. The guy before that, when he held her hand, he sweat too much. The one before that talked about his favorite show too much.
It’s a one strike and you’re out with her.
“You want love?” I ask.
“Everyone around me is in love. Everyone. My sisters are obsessed with their husbands, who are equally obsessed with them. My parents are—” She makes a gagging noise. “I can’t even. My whole family is happy with these people who complete them. Even my traitorous twin is all ga-ga over some guy, and I can’t find one I want to date for longer than a month.”
I smile at my friend, who is a juxtaposition of wants and reality. “Love is flawed, Emmy. It tricks you into seeing the bad in a person and somehow making it tolerable. When you meet the right guy, that will happen. None of the toads you’ve kissed have been your prince.”
“And is this new guy your prince?”
I shake my head. “No, he can’t be.”
“Good, remember that because you, my soft-hearted friend, tend to forget that love can also make it hard to see the jaded edges until you’re already wounded.”
“I haven’t forgotten.” I don’t know that I ever can.
* * *
Olivia and I are in the kitchen because she wanted me to teach her how to cook my mom’s famous potato pickle soup. I don’t know that it’s actually famous, but she made it for me any time I was sad or just needed some comfort.
Liv had a rough day today. She was supposed to meet up with a friend from school, but when I brought her to the meeting place, we waited, waited more, and no one showed. So, I called the parent, asking where they were, to which we were informed she was already out with her friends and Liv was never included in the plans.
I did my best to shield her, stating the girl got pulled away, but she could see. I’m guessing this isn’t the first time something like this has happened.
“Pickles?”Liv asks as I use the grater, making them as fine as I can. A lot of recipes have you dice them, but Mom shredded the pickles down to an almost paste.
“It’s good. Trust me.”
She continues to cut up the potatoes like I showed her, and we work in the kitchen together. While it simmers, we sit at the table as she talks to Sara on video. This call couldn’t have come at a better time, she needs her mom.
Sara says hi to me, I wave and go back to looking at apartments in Texas. Everything close to campus is crazy expensive, but I don’t really want to have to drive, and I don’t want some random roommate.
I got super lucky with Emmeline, and I doubt I’ll have that again.
The front door opens, and I hear the telltale sign that Asher is home. His keys clank in the bowl that sits by the door, there’s a thud of his duffle bag hitting the floor, and then the click of the shelf drop-down that holds his gun. If you walked by it, you’d never know it was a gun safe, but there’s a fingerprint lock at the top that releases a hatch on the bottom of the shelf, allowing you to lock up your firearm close to where you might need it.
Dad has, like, six of them in our house, and he loves them so much that he started buying them for the guys at the station.
