Page 4 of The Love Rematch
“What?”
“I…”
She sits up and runs her palm over the velvet cushion, watching the yellow hue shift as the fibers catch different angles of the light. It’s the reason she fell in love with this couch in the first place. It reminded her of the vanity stool she used to sit on for hours in her grandmother’s house, trying on all her costume jewelry. Emily had been meticulous, combing through clip-ons and faux pearls, each design holding a secret meaning, each presenting a different message to the world.Entire mornings went by while she looked in the mirror, deciding who she wanted to be that day.
Sam had never understood.
Emily can picture her sister now, flitting in and out of the reflection with a scarf thrown dramatically around her neck and a brush before her lips like a microphone while she belted out Lady Gaga without a care in the world. But that was Sam. Loud. Boisterous. Born to be the center of attention. Emily had always been different—the quiet twin, the introspective one. They were like two sides of the same coin.
“Why me?” she finally whispers into the phone. “I mean, I know I still live in our hometown, and sure, when I have a moment to stop and think about it and actually breathe, I might be a bit lonely. I haven’t gone on a date in I don’t even know how long. But I’m focusing on trying to build my business. Mom knows that. I mean, am I really this…pathetic? I know she worries, especially about me, after everything, but surely I’m not in such desperate territory that Mom had to do, well,that? And what about you! You’re—”
“I’m what?”
Emily rolls her eyes at the snark in her sister’s tone and flattens her palm against the cushion with a sigh. “You’re alone, too.”
“I went on a date last night, thank you very much.”
“And what happened?”
“I got mine and then I sent him home.”
Despite herself, Emily smiles.
“Em?”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t take it personally. Mom’s just…Mom. She wants what’s best for us. And honestly, if she had thought of a witty catchphrase that rhymed withSamantha, it would have been my name on that board—along with my photo. You know the woman is wedding-crazed.”
Emily snorts and relaxes into the plush velvet. Her sister has a way of making everything seem better. “Can she really not tell us apart?”
“We both know I’m more photogenic.”
“We’re identical.”
“Not to the camera.” Sam’s grin is somehow audible.
Emily rolls her eyes, ready to retort before her phone buzzes. “Wait, I—”
It buzzes again.
And again.
And again.
The vibrations continue as she switches her sister’s call to speaker and frowns down at the screen. Messages pour in, one after another after another. Some of the names belong to people she hasn’t spoken to in a decade.
“Sam. Something’s happening.”
“Oh shit.”
“What shit?”
“Shit shit.”
“Shit shit what?”
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.Emily doesn’t know whether to throw her phone across the room or unlock it.
