Page 100 of Fighting Words

I laugh and pause, looking her over. It’s still hard to believe we’re here right now, rebuilding things. I point over my shoulder toward the couch. “I’m not sure if you need to rush home, but if you want, you could stay for a while? I just ordered Thai and Idefinitelygot enough to share.”

“Thai?” She groans playfully. “Yes.I’ve been doing this cleanse the last few weeks and all I want is something oily and sugary andfried. Please tell me you got curry.”

“I did, and shrimp dumplings, and ten other things too, I’m sure. I’m so hungry I was just clicking at random when I was ordering.”

She laughs and undoes her coat, laying it on her purse before sliding out of her shoes.

Then she joins me on the couch. “Do you think this throw pillow belongs? It’s so green compared to—”

“Emma.”

“I just think you’d be better off with something more neutral.”

“Emma.”

She throws up her hands. “Okay!Alright.You like the green. We’ll keep it.” Clearly it’s going to take her a while to change her ways, if it’s even possible.

I’m okay with that. Emma wouldn’t be Emma otherwise.

She plops down beside me and scoots close, dropping her voice. “Now, I know we can’t discuss him, but surely you can show me oneitty-bittypicture of this guy. I’m curious about the man who’s made my baby sister fall in love. Andrew said his name is Nathaniel, but he wouldn’t tell me anything else.”

Who am I to deny my sister this? Besides, it’s fun to finally feel this zing of excitement, to have a real crush I can gossip about with her. We’ve never been able to indulge in this way. I’ve never been in love. I grab my phone from the coffee table, and though my hand shakes with nerves, I put Nate’s name into Google Images. Some of the pictures are old, but once I scroll down a bit, I find one that’s recent enough. It’s from a book signing and he’s so unbelievably handsome. In the photo, he sits behind a table wearing a white button-down and a leather watch, an uncapped Sharpie in his hand. His hair is freshly trimmed by arealstylist, not a nervous girl standing between his legs in his kitchen. He’s almost in profile as he smiles at someone just out of frame. Without facial hair, his features are cutting. His sharp cheekbones and strong jaw are beautifully in focus. His dimples pop.

There’s a sudden knock on my door.

The delivery guy arrives with our food just as I turn the phone to my sister. I’m sure he hears her shocked shriek. “OH MY GOD, SUMMER! THAT’S HIM?! Jesus.Can we zoom?!”

EPILOGUE

SUMMER

I’mdeep asleep when my phone rings beside my pillow. I have it set to the highest volume and I’ve chosen a ringtone so shrill and high-pitched it could wake the dead, all so there’s never a chance I’ll sleep through Nate’s call.

He calls me at the same time every morning, rousing me from sleep and assuring that we get time to talk before I have to go to work.

I grab my phone and swipe my finger across the screen.

“7:49,” I tease. “One minute early today.”

He chuckles and it sends fire through me. “I couldn’t wait.”

I hear the smile in his voice, and I can’t help but roll over and plunge my face against my pillow, stifling a toe-curling grin of my own. Since leaving England, Nate’s effect on me hasn’t worn off in the least; it’s worse than ever. He’s the best part of my day, every day.

“Are you up yet?” he asks, prodding me.

Nate knows I like to burrow deep in my bed for as long as possible. He also knows I get annoyed if I’m late. It’s a tightrope we walk every morning.

“Fine,” I say, flinging the covers off. “I’m up now and it’s horrible. My apartment is like a freezer.”

I grab my AirPods from my bedside table and switch the call over as I walk into my bathroom. I prefer to shower at night rather than in the morning, which means I have to take a gamble on how my hair will look every morning. It’s always a toss-up between electric shock and semi-decent.

“How is it today?” Nate asks.

“Wild.”

He groans in agony. “Take a picture.”

I snap a photo and text it to him. There’s a lull and I assume he’s looking at it, because a second later, he laughs. “You’re wearing my sweatshirt. I thought it was dirty.”

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