The Snowball Effect chapters 9-11 (Patreon)

Finally, we're getting somewhere! the story is officially reaching about the halfway point...

It is three chapters, but it also is ~20k words, so... be prepared! (pdf at the bottom, text printed here in this post)

A note* I do edit past chapters as I write, and have edited a little bit into their makeup of their argument, in which Regan likens them to Tom and Jerry (or, Thom and Geri, if you will). Only adding for some context in these chapters!

-------------------------The Snowball Effect------------------------

Chapter Nine

“Not to be too graphic, but I could feel my own asshole puckering just from being able to see the look on Allegra’s face when she was dressing down Henry earlier,” Brynn commented as the elevator doors shut behind them to leave the office Thursday night.

Dubiously, Emma shot a look at her co-worker. “That was you not being too graphic?”

Brynn didn’t blink. “Did you feel differently?”

Emma, admittedly, did not. Brynn had done her job and scoured through all of Henry’s articles for the last several months, making notes on them, and landing them on Allegra’s desk a few days ago.

She hadn’t been pleased with the findings, and Henry had heard all about it today. He was on very, very thin ice at Olly, and now everyone knew it. At least, Emma, Brynn, and Henry all did.

“There’s always an upside to a staff writer getting fired, though,” Brynn stated brightly as they stepped off the elevator together, walking through the lobby. “It means that Allegra is going to be farming out for replacement pieces in the meantime before hiring a new one. Opportunity.”

Emma’s ears perked up at that, even as doubt followed quickly on its heels as she dug through her bag for her sunglasses. Even though it was after six, it was still the dead of summer and would be several more hours before the blaring sun went down. “Do you really think we’d have an opportunity for that?”

Her skepticism was clear in her tone, but she couldn’t help it. Emma was just starting to really find her feet here as an assistant – as of today, it had been the first whole week without her putting her foot in her fucking mouth in front of Allegra. She wasn’t even sure she had the right to dream about having an opportunity for writing right now.

But she couldn’t deny that there was that piece of excitement trilling inside of her at the very idea. Because while being an assistant to Allegra Pantone was a big fucking deal, a job she was lucky to have, Emma had never dreamed of being an assistant; she dreamed of being a writer.

“I don’t know for sure,” Brynn answered. “But I do know that the lead assistant before I was here was Abigail Talle, so…”

Emma did a double-take. “Like, the woman writing in the food section, Abigail Talle?”

“The very one. All I’m saying is that Henry’s ass getting fired in the near future could be a potential boon for one of us.” Brynn smartly finished, as they walked through the revolving glass doors and out onto the sidewalk.

Now that July had rolled in, they were in the thick of the summer humidity, which Emma had never been a fan of. But she supposed she had something to be grateful for – the disgusting heat wave that had attacked for most of June had finally abated. Now, they were living in normal city swamp temperatures.

Before she could say her goodbyes to Brynn, she heard her own name being called from behind her. “Emma! What perfect timing.”

Baffled, she spun around to spot Regan quickly approaching. As always, an exuberantly large smile split her wide, plush lips and revealed the picture-perfect dentistry Emma was sure Regan’s wealthy parents had paid for. Granted, it paid off. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen a more beautiful smile than Regan’s, nor had she ever met someone who wore it more.

Emma lifted a finger up to slide her sunglasses slightly down the bridge of her nose to peer at Regan over the top. “Regan? What are you doing here? At my work?”

“Regan?” Brynn echoed her name, amusement dripping from her tone.

Emma had somehow forgotten Brynn was still there in the last thirty seconds amidst her confusion. She turned back to look at her coworker just as Regan reached them, standing right against Emma, their bare arms touching.

“You must be Brynn,” Regan assessed, still with that large grin. She offered her hand, which Brynn took, shaking it firmly.

Emma was staring in confusion at Regan, because she didn’t recall telling Regan much about her job. Sure, she’d mentioned work here and there, and had definitely brought up Brynn’s name in passing, but it wasn’t like she’d regaled Regan with tales about her. Was Regan just that observant?

When she turned her attention back to Brynn, she absolutely did not trust the mischievous look in her eyes. “Ah… roommate drama has all been worked out, then?”

“Yes,” Regan answered for her, leaning into Emma’s side.

Emma wondered if Regan even knew she did this, if she was aware of her lack of personal space. It had always been something Emma had noted about Regan, even before they’d made peace. The way Regan never moved out of her way or the casual touching she engaged in. But ever since last weekend, when they’d started exploring this middle ground, it had gotten even more… intense.

This, being a perfect example. Even though it was over eighty degrees, Regan seemed to take no issue standing right against Emma’s body heat.

“We’re doing better than ever,” Regan informed Brynn, bringing Emma back to reality.

The reality of Brynn staring between the two of them – the smug expression on her face telling Emma that she continued to not believe they were literally just roommates.

The sincerity with which Regan said those words – that they were doing better than ever – didn’t help the case. Nor did their proximity to each other. Especially given Regan’s attire.

Wearing denim cutoffs that just barely covered the bottom curve of her butt and a red crop top, Regan’s outfit was appropriate for the weather. It was slightly less so for the way she miscalculated physical boundaries.

Emma deliberately side-stepped, putting a couple of inches between them as she slid her sunglasses pointedly back up as she stared at Brynn. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Can’t wait,” Brynn sing-songed back. “Nice to meet you, Regan.”

“You, too!” Regan called after her, immediately turning her attention to Emma and staring up at her, expectantly.

Emma stared back, also expectantly. “I’m still waiting for the answer?”

“What answer?”

“About what you’re doing here?” She repeated her question from minutes ago, exasperated.

She took a deep breath through her nose, before slowly blowing it out. This was the sort of thing that may have annoyed her about Regan, before. That she would do something like randomly show up at Emma’s office, unprompted, acting obtuse and dodgy about the reason why.

But ever since last week, Emma really was trying to get some perspective in moments like these.

Which genuinely was going well. As Regan had said, things between them were better than they’d ever been.

For example, it was far more difficult to get annoyed when Regan did things like leave the dishes in the sink after she’d been up baking Tuesday night, when she’d left Emma a homemade chocolate croissant for breakfast and a little note promising to clean everything up before Emma returned from work. And, true to the note, Emma had returned to a spotless home that evening.

They’d even found a bathroom rhythm that was surprisingly… seamless. Even when they’d both had to get ready in the morning, Emma found that communicating very simply and concisely with Regan really did go a long way.

Sure, Regan still did silly little teasing things – like when Emma went to grab her toothbrush from the holder and found that it was missing, as Regan gave her big, too-innocent doe eyes… but before Emma could get truly exasperated, Regan offered her toothbrush that she’d held in her free hand, already prepared with their toothpaste. “I knew you’d be coming in sooner rather than later,” Regan had easily commented around her own toothbrush in her mouth. She’d proceeded to effortlessly list off the precise order in which Emma got ready every morning.

“Ahh, right! I realized that my shift ended, like, a half hour before you said you were likely going to be coming home, tonight,” Regan began.

And that was another thing that Emma had made simple – but effective – changes to.

Answering Regan’s texts whenever she had a break wasn’t a big deal or difficult. She’d ignored them before to… she didn’t even know – prove a point? That they didn’t have to be friends even as they were roommates?

But, much to Emma’s chagrin, her life was better when she answered them. Like, on the three nights off this week that her evening schedule aligned with Regan’s, Regan had cooked them dinner and had it ready for when Emma reported she’d be home.

And to Regan’s credit, everything she cooked was delicious – and nut free.

Even when Regan texted her non-logistical messages, Emma found herself – damningly – amused by them. Like when Regan had texted Emma a picture she’d snuck of a family of six that had gone to Topped Off, and she’d put emojis over all of their faces, but had highlighted the fact that they all – regardless of age or gender – wore identical mullets, and had asked Emma: had the most delightful tourists come in today. Guess where they’re from (no really, you will never guess)

“Which is basically the amount of time it takes to meet you here, obviously.” Regan continued, gesturing around them as if to emphasize her point.

“Obviously,” Emma parroted.

“So, I thought – well, it would be kind of fun to see where you work! Plus, since we’re both out at the same time and we’re down the street from one of my favorite diners, I figured we could grab dinner together?” There was a clear hopeful edge in her voice, reflected in the way Regan was biting her lip as she looked up at her, awaiting her answer.

It seemed that the literal seconds it took Emma to process put Regan on-edge, as she rambled on, “I know we haven’t, you know, debuted our friendship anywhere beyond the apartment yet. And our home hangouts have been great, don’t get me wrong,” she rushed to say. “But… meeting you out and about because we have similar schedules is what friends would do.”

“Not in my experience,” Emma stated, but she wasn’t trying to be difficult.

Emma had always held her friends an arm’s length away.

But, as she eyed Regan, she was forced to admit that she wasn’t sure keeping Regan at a distance was a possibility. Regan was essentially a puppy, Emma had been slow to learn. Now that she had, though, it was almost impossible for her to do anything that would make Regan give her those big, sad eyes.

And, she found as she stared at Regan’s absurdly optimistic expression, she found that she really had no desire to say no, anyway. Regan was right: their home hangouts had been fun. It… it was nice to come home to someone that wanted to talk to Emma about her day, to share about theirs.

Something she was unfamiliar with, other than her Gram, but it was true.

“All right,” she acquiesced. “Where’s the diner?”

It really was only a few blocks away, which Emma was grateful for as they stepped inside the blissful air conditioning. The slightly dingy sign outside proclaimed a 24-hour breakfast, which Regan had assured her was the best she’d ever had.

“Regan! Hi, honey!” A woman that appeared to be in her sixties that was leaning back against the next to the kitchen spotted them, immediately. “Sit anywhere you like; I’ll be over in a minute!”

“Thanks, Patty!”

Emma stared back and forth at the interaction, before following Regan to a booth on the far side of the restaurant. “You really are a regular here.”

“Yeah, I worked here for the first three months that I was in New York,” Regan informed her as she gestured for Emma to slide into the seat.

Surprised by that information, Emma opened her mouth to question it.

Only to change gears, as Regan slid into the same side of the booth she was sitting in.

Slowly, Emma made a point of looking at Regan, before sliding her gaze to the empty side of the booth across from them, then back. “You know people normally sit on the opposite side, unless we’re expecting other people?”

“I figured you knew by now I’m not normal,” Regan cheekily retorted, her dark eyes twinkling up at Emma as she slid a laminated menu at her.

“You make a very good point,” Emma was forced to concede.

Still, though. It felt weird. The sort of thing that would have made Emma double-take when she’d gone out with Felicity, as her ex would have undoubtedly commented some snarky remark about couples being so clingy.

But, she reasoned with herself as she felt her cheeks heat, she and Regan weren’t a couple.

“I like it better this way,” Regan said, her voice taking on a quieter, more thoughtful tone. “When the dinner rush hits – which will be any minute now – it’s going to get way louder. This way, we can hear each other so much more easily.”

She was so earnest in her defense of sitting on the same side that, again, Emma’s argument against it folded. Was it so wrong that Regan wanted to be close enough for them to actually converse without shouting? Besides, Regan very clearly felt no embarrassment at anyone possibly giving them a second look, so… why should Emma?

“I’ll move to the other side, if you want me to,” Regan offered.

But Emma found herself shaking her head. “You’re lucky you smell nice,” she muttered, looking down at the menu.

Her tone was sardonic, but the comment was true. Regan used a peppermint shampoo and conditioner – it was in their shower – that always left her hair smelling minty and fresh, and whatever perfume or products she used complimented it perfectly. When Regan ignored normal societal personal boundary rules, it really did make Emma feel as though she was taking a breath of fresh air.

Emma found it enjoyable, and far more appealing than something floral or cloying.

“Why, thank you!” Regan fluttered her eyelashes exaggeratedly at her. “Might be the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Besides, given the chill of the air conditioning, having the solid, warm press of Regan’s thigh against her own was kind of nice.

“How the heck are you? It’s been a couple of months,” Patty’s loud voice boomed as she neared them, staring down at Regan with a broad grin.

“I’m good! Been busy – Sutton’s in Rome. This is Emma, my new roommate,” Regan tilted her head in Emma’s direction, as if she could possibly be introducing anyone else.

The bells above the entrance jingled and Patty looked up, grimacing. “Ah, shit. I can’t stay and catch up, but I’ll throw your order in before the kitchen gets crazy. What’ll you have?”

“I’ll have my usual,” Regan answered without having spent a second looking at the menu. Which, Emma supposed, made sense, given that she’d worked here. “Pancakes,” Regan turned to inform her, “With a side of bacon and home fries. Literally the best pancakes in the city.”

Emma was sold. “I’ll just take the same, then.”

“Making it easy for me, I like you already.” Patty nodded at her approvingly.

She’d take it, because getting the approval from waiters was one of Emma’s favorite things.

Regan’s eyes widened, as she reached out to put her hand over Patty’s before she could walk away. “Wait – there’s no nuts of any kind that go into the pancakes, right? Not even in the flour? Emma’s allergic. Let Johnny know that he has to be careful.”

There was a demanding urgency in her tone that Emma had never heard from Regan. And with it came a deep, warm appreciation for her.

“Will do, sweets.” Patty nodded diligently, before walking away.

Regan turned back to face her, sliding a hand through her hair. Before she froze, her eyebrows sliding high on her forehead as she stared at Emma.

“What?” Emma asked, Regan’s expression making her feel alarmed. “What is it?”

“Um… nothing,” Regan hedged, sliding her fingertips along the metal edge of the table. “You were smiling at me, is all. You don’t normally do that, unless I say something mildly amusing.”

Emma hadn’t even realized she’d been grinning at Regan, but she guessed it wasn’t a surprise. She felt herself flush from having it pointed out. “I just – people don’t normally do that.” She gestured at where Patty had stood moments ago. “Make a point of my allergy. I usually do it for myself.”

“Most people probably haven’t hospitalized you, either,” Regan allowed, a guilty expression creeping up on her face.

For the first time, though, the memory of it didn’t frustrate Emma. Didn’t make her feel annoyed or irritated at Regan having lied about reading their contract.

“True. But still.”

Unbidden, she thought about how the only time she’d had to go to the hospital for her allergy in her adult life had been when she’d been dating Felicity. One of the desserts that were in the “nut free” zone on the table clearly hadn’t been truthful, and instead of spending the remainder of the evening at Felicity’s Friendsgiving, she’d been in the ER. Her ex had looked conflicted, but ultimately hadn’t joined her, because she’d been hosting the party at her apartment, and Emma hadn’t held that against her.

But she’d been lonely and felt like shit in the hospital by herself.

Something told her that even if Regan hadn’t been the one responsible for hospitalizing her, Regan would have done exactly what she’d done that night – spend the entire time by Emma’s side – if Emma had an allergic reaction while they were out somewhere.

And she supposed that was the benefit of having Regan in your corner. After all, she’d seen the ferocity with which Regan had defended Sutton over the years. Emma supposed it was extended to most people Regan cared about.

Which, wildly, seemed to include her.

She studied Regan closely.

There really were a lot of sides to Regan. Positives Emma wouldn’t allow herself to see in her own stubbornness.

And now that she was opening her eyes, she found that she was curious.

Curious about these aspects of Regan that she really didn’t know. Even though Regan was the first person to claim she was an open book, Emma had a lot of gaps in her knowledge.

Which brought her back to, “You worked here? I always thought you started at Topped Off as soon as you moved here?”

“I basically did. I moved seven years ago in May, started at Topped Off in August, and have been there ever since,” Regan explained, running her eyes slowly over the restaurant. A small smile played on her lips by the time she returned her gaze to Emma. “I discovered that I wasn’t quite the best waitress.”

Easily recalling their first encounter, Emma dryly stated, “You don’t say.”

But, again, for the first time in a long time, she felt no malice. Didn’t feel the pull of that grudge.

Regan laughed her full-bodied laugh. “Yeah. There was a lot of carnage; it was my first-ever job. I got relegated to making the coffee by the end of my first month. And I realized that I was really good at it. So, going to Topped Off made a lot more sense.”

Seemed simple enough. Emma accepted the explanation with a nod. Still, her curiosity wasn’t satisfied, and she stared closely at Regan trying to make sense of the knowledge she did have. “I still don’t understand why you moved here. As a native, I’ve seen it all. People from small towns looking for the big change. People hustling to make it big in some industry or other. But… all you said when I asked you before was because Sutton lived here?”

Really, Regan was such an oddity in that sense. And Emma wanted to understand.

Regan nodded, looking at Emma as quizzically as Emma was looking at her. “Yes? We’ve already talked about this.”

Emma couldn’t help the incredulous frown that tugged at her mouth. “I just… moved to one of the most expensive cities in the world with no plans because – your best friend lived here?”

She didn’t mean to sound judgmental. Really, she didn’t. But Emma’s logic-driven brain simply couldn’t compute that answer, though. Not when Regan had her life set up for her back in Massachusetts. She’d known Regan had attended Brandeis University for a year, that she could have finished her education without a single student loan.

Regan was frowning back at her. “Yes,” she doubled down on, firmly. “That’s exactly what I did.”

Emma bit the inside of her cheek to hold back any of the thoughts she had that could possibly come out that weren’t very positive. Literally, she bit down and averted her gaze from Regan’s to stare down at the table and mind her own business.

The sigh that Regan let out was full of obvious frustration, though, as she dropped her hand down to the table and tapped her fingertips against it. “Just say it.”

Emma cleared her throat as she shot Regan a look. “Say what?”

Regan’s stare alone demanded Emma cut through the bullshit. “Whatever you’re obviously thinking but not saying. Just say it so you aren’t stewing on it.”

“I shouldn’t,” Emma disagreed. “Because I’m trying, remember?”

“You putting in effort to our friendship doesn’t mean you don’t have opinions; I’m fully aware that you have them. And we’re not ever going to really get anywhere if we aren’t being ourselves.” Regan squared her shoulders as she turned in the booth to fully look at Emma. “So, I will tell you again: just say it.”

“You really are as persistent as I am stubborn,” Emma muttered as she turned sideways to face Regan as well. If Regan could take criticism head-on, Emma could deliver it the same way. “Look, I’m sorry, but that’s something I’ve always found really frustrating about you. If you want the spirit of honesty between us as friends, then… there it is.”

The way Regan’s eyebrows furrowed made her confusion clear.

Emma elaborated, “The fact that you could have had that path in life! College completely paid for, a bright future that you don’t have to beg, borrow, and steal anything to achieve. I don’t hold it against Sutton that doors were opened for her in life because she was born into a wealthy family, because I can respect that she understands how privileged she is, and she’s using it to work toward her own dreams.”

She shook her head slightly, staring at Regan, feeling just as baffled as she’d been a minute ago. Feeling echoes of frustration she’d had with Regan for years.

“Do you even understand how lucky you were in life? To go to the school system you were in, to have the doors opened to you that you did?” She searched Regan’s gaze, really wanting to know; this wasn’t rhetorical to Emma.

“Do you know how hard I’ve had to work to get to where I am? How many jobs I’ve had to work to put myself through college, to pay the tuition I owed even after maxing out all of my student loans that I now have to pay back? Do you think I wanted to graduate and start my career only a few months shy of turning thirty? A career in which I’m currently spending my days sifting through applications for the Alton Writing Fellowship, and every single one is a giant reminder that I earned one of those Fellowship spots myself – and then couldn’t go. Because I couldn’t afford it.”

The words burst from her, from a place so far down, Emma hadn’t expected it to bubble up to the surface. She blinked in surprise, embarrassment quickly on its heels to tie knots in her stomach.

And Regan’s gaze – which had gone from confused to defensive to curious, and had now settled on sympathetic – held hers, refusing to let go. “I never knew you got into the Alton program thing.”

Emma shrugged, the movement jerky as she reached up a fidgeting hand and swiped her hair behind her ear. “Yeah, it was before I met you. Er, before I met Sutton, I guess,” she corrected, feeling her cheeks burn under Regan’s watchful gaze.

What she wasn’t going to say to Regan was that Emma didn’t discuss the brief moment in time that she’d been accepted into the Alton Fellowship with anyone. She’d been utterly elated when she’d gotten accepted, had wanted to shout it from the rooftops. She’d already been gripping her phone so she could call her grandmother and tell her the news…

But then she’d finished going through the envelope and realized that while she had a spot in the program, she hadn’t received any grant money.

Meaning that to partake in the four-month long California-based fellowship, Emma would have to somehow find the money to get herself across the country, find a new place to live, and try to find a job that would allow her to work around the fellowship hours. All while living away from the only supports she had, in the forms of her grandmother and her girlfriend.

And the fact that she’d factored how much she’d miss Felicity and their stable relationship, only for Felicity to turn around and unceremoniously dump Emma and their discussions of the future had been a retroactive slap in the face, on top of it all.

She cleared her throat. “Anyway, I wasn’t trying to be an asshole to you, about the decisions you make in your own life. Because – it is your life. I just… it’s… hard to see someone have access to so many opportunities, like you have, when I would have killed to have half of that access.”

She still felt embarrassed, saying it aloud. Because saying it aloud brought Emma back, viscerally, to the memory of when she was the only kid in her middle school class that was there on scholarship. Being poor and feeling ashamed of being poor. Then, on top of that, feeling ashamed of being ashamed, because she knew how fucking hard her grandmother worked to provide for her.

Emma couldn’t even remember the last time she’d talked about any of these feelings, the last time those core memories had felt so present in her mind. And she couldn’t understand why the hell she’d just laid out so much about herself to Regan in a diner booth.

Regan’s hand landed softly on top of Emma’s own, soft and warm, and when she squeezed Emma’s wrist, Emma forced herself to look up at Regan.

Much like in middle school, she’d put on a brave, defiant expression, even if it didn’t match what she was feeling.

But Regan’s expression didn’t match the middle school bullies, not at all. It was sweet, and filled with an understanding Emma hadn’t anticipated. “I really appreciate you telling me all of that.”

Emma arched a doubtful eyebrow at her. “Really?”

Regan was glad Emma had spilled her deep-seated, bitter feelings on Regan’s privilege?

Still, Regan’s guileless face didn’t lie. “Yeah, because I feel like I actually get it, now. Why you’ve always been so grr towards me. And…” Regan’s white teeth dug into her lip as she dropped her gaze for the first time. “I understand why you feel that way. It makes sense.”

“It does.” Emma knew she wasn’t adding anything helpful to the conversation, but she couldn’t help it.

She’d expected Regan to jump right back at her, defending her own life choices. It would have probably been what Emma would have done, if the roles were reversed.

Regan took in a deep breath, her shoulders lifting with it, before she slowly blew it out, then turned back to Emma. There was a lightness in her eyes, again, as she said, “Yup, it does. And now that it’s been voiced aloud, I feel like we can finally move beyond it, right?”

Emma didn’t immediately agree. She took a second to think it over, but ultimately nodded. “I guess so. I mean, we were already on that path.”

“Exactly.” Regan squeezed Emma’s wrist twice, letting go of it just as Patty returned with their food.

Emma had to admit after taking a bite – they were pretty damn good. And judging by the knowing grin Regan had on her face as Emma chewed, she knew exactly what she was thinking.

Emma rolled her eyes in response, before she quite literally gasped at the way Regan was haphazardly scraping her knife through the stack of pancakes on her own plate. “Oh my god, has anyone ever taught you how to hold a knife?”

“Ha-ha,” Regan mimicked a laugh, before gesturing at Emma’s own plate. “Has anyone ever told you that this isn’t a math class, and you don’t have to cut your pancakes into equally sized pieces?”

Emma brought her hand up, protectively cupping it around the side of her plate. Where she had, indeed, methodically, neatly cubed her pancakes a minute ago. “You’re literally sawing at them.”

Regan made a dramatic point of using her knife like a saw, then, and Emma couldn’t help but laugh, even as the image of the mangled pancakes looked like the result of an angry toddler.

“So,” Regan said, pointedly changing the subject. “Why did you want to get into publishing?”

Emma rolled her lips like she had to think about the answer, even though she didn’t. The truth was immediate and clear in her memory, but… sharing those memories felt vulnerable.

But she looked back at Regan, at her shameless mushy pancake mess and wide, genuinely curious eyes. At how she had a smudge of maple syrup right at the edge of her full lips.

And she realized – that was it.

Something about Regan’s blatantly open, honest approach to life may be loud and chaotic, but it was always honest and accepting.

Emma spoke before she even realized what she was doing. “It was because of magazines,” she admitted with a self-deprecating laugh. “I was obsessed with magazines when I was little. My grandma would bring me to the store, and I would wander away from her as soon as we walked in, grabbing a handful of whatever the latest ones were, and then sequester myself away in a quiet aisle, trying to read as many articles as I could before we had to leave. She’d let me buy one, so I’d always pick the thickest one – whatever it was – to take home.”

A small smile played on her lips at the memory. Even though they hadn’t had much money to spare, and her grandma considered magazines a frivolous expense, she’d always given in and gotten Emma one.

“God, I loved reading celebrity gossip in the glossy papers at the supermarket,” Regan agreed, exhaling a dreamy, exaggerated sigh. She cut her gaze to Emma’s. “But I didn’t read all of the articles in them; I was more of a picture-speaks-a-thousand-words girl.”

“Unsurprising,” Emma deadpanned, amused.

It felt – good? Sharing this with Regan? God, that was weird. But, Regan was weird – in a good way, Emma was coming to see. So, she supposed it made sense.

“And?” Regan prompted.

Emma sent her questioning look as she took a bite out of a piece of bacon.

Regan used her fork to gesture at Emma. “When did you know you wanted to be a part of their world? Like, I loved reading magazines, but I never thought I wanted to write in them.”

“Almost immediately.” Emma scoffed out a laugh at her young self. “I’d write articles for my grandmother constantly.”

Regan’s interest was apparent, as she set her elbow on the table, resting her chin on her fist as she looked at Emma with her full attention. “Do you still write? I mean – I know that’s the goal, right? But, like, your days at work aren’t filled with writing.”

Emma’s chewing slowed, that creeping self-consciousness returning. “Uh, not… really.” She hedged after she swallowed.

 “Ohhhh,” Regan sang out, eyebrows lifting as she leaned in even closer to Emma. “Not really also means yes, a little.”

Regan stared at her, unwaveringly. Emma stared back, that squirmy nervous feeling in her stomach.

“Fine,” she gave in after a few seconds. “I don’t really write. Like, I’m not writing books or articles or anything. I…” She licked her lips, before admitting, “I have a bookstagram. Where I write reviews of the novels I read.”

Regan reeled back, her face filled with shock and delight. “Emma!”

She narrowed her eyes. “Why is that so crazy?” She demanded, even though, admittedly, she’d just been reluctant to confess to it. “I love to read, and I have a lot of opinions.”

“Yeah, that part isn’t shocking.” Regan laughed. “What’s shocking is that – I follow you on all of your socials. And you hardly ever post on them! It’s hard to believe you care enough about any social media to keep up with it.”

“Well, I wasn’t doing it for a following or whatever,” she muttered, shrugging. “Look, I started it when I was in undergrad, when I didn’t have any time to write anything other than essays. It was just a fun idea to write out my thoughts on books.”

Regan was already sliding out her phone. “Emma, you don’t have to convince me that you aren’t here for the clout.” She looked at Emma over her phone. “Now, what’s your name? How do I find you?”

Cheeks burning, Emma pointedly turned away from Regan. “Yeah, that is not happening.”

Mouth falling open in offense, Regan demanded, “Why! You’ll let strangers follow you, but not your literal roommate?!”

“Yes.”

“That’s crazy.”

“Isn’t bonding supposed to be a two-way street?” Emma asked, turning the tables on Regan before they could dig in any deeper.

Honestly, Regan was the only person in her real life that knew about Emma’s book reviewing social media life at all. Emma felt like that was plenty of sharing on her end.

With obvious reluctance, Regan set down her phone. “Indeed it is. What do you want to know about me?”

Of course, Regan offered herself to Emma without hesitation.

Instead of finding that annoying, though, Emma found it almost… admirable.

And even though Regan was freely inviting Emma to ask anything, Emma found that she didn’t know what, exactly, to ask. There was so much she didn’t know, and she didn’t know where to even start.

“Tell me something other people don’t know,” she challenged, mostly because she’d just spent the entire dinner so far telling Regan things that she never talked about with anyone else. Leveling the playing field would be nice.

Regan’s lips twisted to the side in thought as she pondered Emma’s comment.

“I like to draw maps.”

The sheer randomness of that statement made Emma choke on her water. Coughing, she blinked at Regan. “What?”

But the grin on Regan’s face wasn’t joking or teasing. If anything, it was a little sheepish. “Maps. I like to draw them.”

Emma’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. “Like… of New York? The subway? The country?”

“Of made-up countries,” Regan corrected, staring at Emma incredulously. “The subway?”

Emma mirrored her expression. “How are made-up countries less wild than the subway?”

“Who do you know that draws subway maps?”

“I don’t know anyone that draws maps at all,” Emma countered, then paused as she slid her gaze to Regan. “Well, I didn’t think I did, anyway. How did you get into the world of fictional cartography?”

Regan chuckled. “Fictional cartography. I like that. Um, it wasn’t planned. Much like baking – I started hanging out more with some of the people at the café last fall, and I tagged along with Dustin to one of his D&D games, just to see what it was like.”

Unexpectedly fascinated, Emma nodded along. “And you got into it?”

“No,” Regan’s response was so flat, it stole a harsh, ugly laugh from Emma’s throat. “Turns out I’m not super into the game play. But I did love the world building stuff! So I spent the couple of hours that I was there drawing up a map for them.” She shrugged, toying with the end of her napkin. “They seemed to really like it, and so did I. So now I draw them maps for every new campaign, and they’ve passed my name along to some of the other people they know. You’d be surprised at the size of the fantasy roleplaying community that are interested in having a map made for them.”

“I’d love to see these maps.” Really, she was utterly fascinated.

“And I’d love to see your bookstagram,” Regan countered with a devilish grin.

***

Nearly two hours later, they walked down the hall toward their apartment, and Emma barely even noticed the way Regan leaned into her side as she laughed.

Cackled, more like, as Regan defensively was telling her about an unfortunate road trip she’d taken with Sutton back in high school.

“And then, by the time we got back to the car – it had been towed!” Regan said the word as if the very existence of a tow truck was offensive to her. “So, you see, even though the trip was my idea, the fact that we were stranded in the middle of Nowhere, Maine really was the result of freak accident after freak accident!”

“That’s not the way I heard it from Sutton.” Emma was unable to stop chuckling at the outrage in Regan’s tone.

“And that’s because Sutton was traumatized by the series of events, and that’s fine and all, but it did mess with her ability to recount the tale correctly,” Regan countered.

Before Emma could respond, she felt her phone buzzing in her pocket and pulled it out. It was a little late for either her grandmother or Allegra to be contacting her, but –

Emma honestly hadn’t realized what a genuinely good mood she’d been in until that moment, when the laughter died on her lips and her stomach churned as she read Kimberly’s name on her screen.

Regan seemed to notice the change in her body language immediately, pausing a few feet away from their door as she, too, glanced down at Emma’s phone. “Everything okay?”

“It’s fine,” Emma claimed, and it mostly wasn’t a lie.

She hesitated with her thumb over the red decline option, unable to bring herself to actually turn the call down.

She’d dodged Kimberly’s attempts to reach out for the last week, even more doggedly than she’d been doing before. And it had nothing to do with Regan or her mom’s belief that they were together.

For some reason, the return of Mr. Cuddles to her life and the insistent image of her mom’s desperately earnest expression as she’d offered it to Emma had made this need to avoid her become even more intense. Even more vital.

And yet, conversely and bafflingly, it also made Emma feel terribly about her avoidance. The watchful eyes of Mr. Cuddles sitting on her bookshelf made her think about the times her mom would puppet the bear and sing ridiculous songs until Emma laughed so hard she could barely breathe.

That feeling took over as she flicked her gaze to Regan. “I think I need to take this.”

Regan watched her carefully, nodding. “Sure. Whatever you need to do.”

Emma took a deep breath, held it for a few moments trying to quell the nerves in her stomach… then answered.

Before she could say a word, her mom spoke. “Emma?! Did I catch you on the first try?!”

Despite the fact that Regan had started to meander forward, tugging out her keys to unlock their door, Emma knew that she could still hear everything Kimberly said, given the decibel her mom talked at.

Still, she supposed she would give it to Regan – she was fiddling with her keys and making it appear somewhat like she wasn’t absolutely interested in what was going to play out on the call.

“Yeah. Seems like you did.” Emma replied, feeling the way she often did with her mom – painfully stilted.  She almost wished she knew some other way to be. She did when she’d been younger, but over time, that had shifted. Leaving… this.

“I won’t keep you long – unless you want to chat?” Kimberly asked but then continued on without waiting for an answer. “It’s just been over a week since I saw you, and I didn’t want to let too much time pass before we confirmed those dinner plans! So, like I said, I won’t keep you; I just wanted to know when you and Regan would be available? Maybe sometime this weekend? I could even do tomorrow, if you’re free?”

So much for pretending like she wasn’t eavesdropping. Regan immediately zipped her gaze up to stare at Emma, as soon as she’d heard her name.

Emma froze where she stood, her stomach twisting at the reminder. Right. Her mom – and her grandma – still believed she was in her non-existent relationship.

And Emma had been so focused on everything else playing out with Regan – their argument then subsequent friendship formation – that she hadn’t exactly had the time or energy to think of what the hell she was going to say to her family about it.

The stupidest, most ridiculous lie, honestly. And the stupidest, most ridiculous thing was it still seemed easier to let her mom believe than tell her the truth.

Shaking her head at that thought, Emma slowly started speaking, “Uh. You know. About that. Regan and I – we actually aren’t…” She heaved a sigh, her stress mounting as she dragged her hand through her hair and blinked up at the ceiling.

Should she tell her mom she and Regan broke up? Was the truth – that she’d lied in order to find another excuse to put off spending time with Kimberly – even a viable option? It felt too cruel, at this point. Especially since Kimberly had seen them with her own eyes, keeping up the charade.

“We aren’t available tomorrow, unfortunately, because I have work,” Regan answered, her voice coming from right next to Emma.

She snapped her eyes open, looking down at Regan, who was pushing up onto her tiptoes to get her mouth closer to Emma’s phone.

 “But maybe Saturday?” Regan suggested, sliding her gaze to Emma, eyebrows lifted in question, waiting for her to give her agreement.

“Uh… I guess Saturday works for me, too,” she slowly conceded.

Okay, so, they were doing this, still.

Kimberly’s answering squeal of excitement was piercing. “Saturday is perfect! I’ll see you both then!”

The silence in the hallway sounded deafening around them when Kimberly hung up.

She was still trying to process, when Regan tentatively spoke. “That was, kind of, my act-first, think-later mentality. It seemed like you were in a pickle, still, so I’m sor–”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Emma cut in, not needing or wanting to hear Regan’s apology.

Sure, maybe Regan had jumped into her crazy lie. But Emma was the one that had made this situation unnecessarily complicated by avoiding telling the truth in the first place.

“This weird lie is what got us into that… predicament last week,” Emma said, instead. Because it was the truth. She’d spiraled and accidentally insulted Regan because her grandmother had found out about the lie. “So, I’m not holding you to it or anything; it’s not the reason I’m doing this,” she gestured between them.

“I know. But if it makes your life a little easier right now with your complicated-mom-stuff, then, why wouldn’t I do it? I already told you that I love a little scheme. This is what friends are for. Besides, I really don’t have any plans Saturday night.”

Regan said the words so simply, so easily, as she unlocked their apartment door.

As if she wasn’t doing Emma a giant favor, as if she wasn’t going along with this lie and helping Emma out and giving up her own weekend night off to do so.

And Emma stared at Regan, feeling like she finally – finally – understood. Like everything really was clicking into place.

She’d wondered for years why Sutton was such a ride-or-die friend to Regan, even when Regan did crazy things like message women on her behalf on dating apps or got them lost on road trips. Why Sutton wasn’t bothered by Regan’s eccentricities or lack of ambition.

But this was why.

Because Regan did things like show up to take her friends out to dinner, listened to every story with intent, and remembered every detail. Because she was willing to throw her own lot in with someone she cared about and ride out the storm together.

She felt like she’d put in the final puzzle piece.

And she didn’t realize how intently she’d been staring at Regan until Regan turned to face her. “Do I have something on my face?” She asked, already reaching up and brushing the back of her hand over her cheek.

Emma flushed, shaking her head intently as she dropped her gaze. “No. You’re good.”

But Emma wasn’t – she was getting pulled into Regan’s crazy orbit! If she wasn’t careful, the next thing she knew, she’d be the one getting traumatized on impromptu weekend road trips!

“It’s EditorialEmma,” she said, deliberately averting her gaze as she shut the door behind her.

“What is?”

“My book reviewing name,” she explained, breathing through the weird feeling in the pit of her stomach at being vulnerable. But Regan was doing her a favor, and Emma liked to replay favors to make sure everything was level.

Regan’s face absolutely lit up at the information, and her obvious excitement helped quell Emma’s embarrassment. “You just saved me so much time I’d already mentally set aside for tonight to find your secret social medias!”

Oh no. It really was happening. She should have found Regan’s determination to find Emma’s private accounts annoying, an invasion of privacy.

Instead, she found it… was this endearment?

It was, she realized, as she watched Regan do a little excited dance as she walked down the hallway.

God help her.

Chapter Ten

Kennedy L. Gallagher – 5:00PMThe dress fitting for my bridal shower is in ten days – Opal’s Bridal Boutique in the West Village, at noon. Be there by eleven forty-five.

Regan grimaced down at her phone. Her sister even texted on the hour.

For a few seconds, she debated not even answering; after all, Kennedy wasn’t looking for Regan’s response. Not really.

Heaving a sigh, she picked up her phone because she knew she wouldn’t hear the end of it if she didn’t.

Regan – 5:01PMYes… you already sent this memo to me via email… twice… and it’s in the Kennedy and Armando wedding calendar that you added me to…

Kennedy L. Gallagher – 5:01PMThat is not the appropriate usage of ellipses, Regan, you ARE aware of that?

Kennedy L. Gallagher – 5:02PMI know how often you’ve been reminded of the event, Regan. But I don’t want you to mess this up. The entire wedding party is going to be there, and the last thing I need is for you to show up late with an asinine excuse.

Kennedy L. Gallagher – 5:02PMOr worse, miss it completely, meaning it would fall to ME to reschedule you a fitting. Do you know how far out I had to book this appointment at Opal’s? It’s not a department store, Regan. We can’t just show up whenever we feel like it.

She pulled a face. God, she hated how frequently her sister said her name. Like, there was no one else in this text thread – Regan knew she was the one being addressed, here.

Regan – 5:03PM… why are you talking to me like I’ve already fucked up? Shouldn’t we at least wait for it to happen, before I’m on the receiving end of your disappointment?

Kennedy L. Gallagher – 5:04PMThat’s the entire point, Regan. So that you DON’T fuck up.

“That’s the entire point, Regan,” she mimicked under her breath, giving the thumbs up to the message in response before tossing her phone onto her bed.

Kennedy would hate that response, which was somewhat satisfying.

She remembered – easily, as it was only four months ago – Sutton’s older brother’s wedding, and how excited Sutton had been to be a bridesmaid for her future sister-in-law. Sutton’s experience being in the wedding party for a family member had been so fun and exciting for her. Phone calls about the planning and wedding events had been plentiful in their apartment, and Sutton had been swept up with it.

Regan’s current experience with her sister was… different.

So, her sister believed Regan was going to fuck up her entire wedding day before the day even happened – what else was new?

Right now, that was unimportant.

Emma’s family was the focal point of the evening. She took a deep breath, trying to shake Kennedy off as she looked in her full-length mirror.

She ruffled her hair a bit, the dark strands falling in their natural waves down to her shoulders. She was wearing minimal makeup, but she figured that was a good decision. Even though Regan hadn’t typically gotten to the stage of relationships where meeting the family was a thing, she wasn’t an idiot. She was aiming for the sweet spot – looking good, but not looking like she was trying too hard.

With her hands on her hips, she turned to look at the outfit options she had laid out on her bed.

The thing Regan needed to concern herself about not fucking up, was this.

Because things with Emma had been going so well lately. Like, really well.

Like – Emma actually smiled at her, all cute and sleepy, when they were in the kitchen to get coffee at the same time in the morning.

Like – Emma was even getting into watching The One with her, and not only did she not get annoyed when Regan paused the episode to make her commentary about each of the candidates, Emma liked to make it, too.

“Now, that guy definitely poses with a fish on dating apps,” Emma scoffed derisively about a contestant the night before.

Regan had giggled, settling down deeper into the cushion next to her as she’d gestured to the other guy on screen. “And he takes all of his pictures from an angle beneath his chin.”

Like – she’d literally shared her secret book reviewing social media page with Regan!

Regan couldn’t – wouldn’t – blow this newfound friendship tonight by not making a good impression at family dinner.

With that thought in mind, Regan strutted to her bedroom door and tossed it open. “Emma! Can you come here? I need you.”

She stared intently at Emma’s adjacent bedroom door, itching to walk over and open it herself.

She didn’t, though, because Emma wasn’t Sutton, and she wouldn’t like that. Even with all of their progress.

Thankfully, a few seconds later, Emma opened the door. “Is everything okay?” She asked, looking down at her phone, her thumbs moving over the screen.

The question that had been on Regan’s lips died, falling back down her throat as Emma stood in front of her in high-waisted black shorts, with a baby blue button-up tucked into them. But the buttons weren’t all done-up just yet.

No, the top … five? Six? Were still undone, and her breasts were being showcased in the seriously incredible white bra she wore.

Regan didn’t know what it was about Emma’s breasts that she found so fascinating, she really didn’t. But it was an undeniable fact by now, something she’d simply had to come to accept.

Maybe it was because the sight brought Regan back to their first time they’d met at the café, when Regan had ripped her shirt open, and Emma’s prodigious chest had been there, right in front of her face. Maybe it was because her breasts were so much bigger than Regan’s own – or Sutton’s or… any woman’s that Regan had ever seen in real life.

They were mesmerizing.

“All right, I ordered the Uber,” Emma commented as she tapped once more on her phone, finally lowering it. “What did you–”

Emma abruptly cut herself off, mirroring Regan’s wide-eyed stare. Those blue eyes traced down Regan’s body, then back up, before Emma promptly dropped her gaze pointedly to the floor.

“Regan! Why did you call me out here? You’re naked!”

Finally shaking herself out of her stupor, Regan glanced down at herself to double check before she defended, “I am not.”

She wasn’t; she was wearing one of her favorite lingerie sets. A lacey purple pair that showcased her breasts as best as was possible. Though, as she looked at Emma’s, she felt very humbled as she looked back at her own chest.

Amused, she took a closer look at Emma. “Are you blushing?”

“Well, you called me out here so that I could apparently look at you in your underwear,” Emma scolded, her tone scalding. “Which – you know we need to leave in like five minutes, right?”

“I know, that’s why I called for you. Come,” she ordered, waving Emma to follow her into her room.

She could hear Emma sigh, before several seconds passed… and finally, Emma followed into her room.

She still was pointedly avoiding looking at Regan, though, Regan noted with no small amount of amusement. Instead, Emma was intently looking around at her bedroom.

“I thought you’d be way more chill about seeing a woman in her underwear, given that you’re bisexual and all. I’ve literally met your ex-girlfriend,” she pointed out, poking Emma lightly in the arm. She frowned, as the thought hit her. “Wait, are you asexual?”

Emma aimed a frown in her general direction. “No, I’m not. But,” she tipped her head back, sighing up at the ceiling. “On an average day, I don’t see women… especially like you… walking around, like this.”

It was Regan’s turn to frown – women like her?

“Women like me?” She echoed.

Yes, the blush on Emma’s cheeks most definitely deepened, as she steadfastly avoided looking at Regan. “Mhmm.”

“Who are women like me?” She pressed, taking a step closer to Emma. “Women you’ve lived with? Baristas? Your friends? Your ex-nemeses? Your–”

“Women who look like they’ve stepped out of a lingerie ad, literally wearing that lingerie,” Emma explained, her voice tight as she frowned down at the clothing options on the bed.

Whatever other goading words Regan was going to say fell back down her throat, as she felt herself flush, butterflies erupting in her stomach. Again, she gave herself a cursory glance down at her own body, before looking back at Emma. “You think I look like I could have stepped out of a lingerie ad?”

Emma finally looked at her, exasperated. “Are you fishing for compliments?”

Equally exasperated, Regan tossed her hands up into the air. “No! That was, like, the last thing I expected you to say.”

“Regan, look at yourself,” Emma retorted, her forehead crinkling in what looked like genuine confusion. “You look… good.”

Regan did look back down at herself. Even though she was never shy around her own nudity, she felt – well, she felt different in this moment, as her stomach squirmed, pleasantly. “I guess I’m just used to standing next to Sutton,” she murmured, without thinking too much about it.

But the first time they’d gone to buy bras and underwear by themselves as teenagers was a memory Regan could easily recall. Sutton had emerged from her fitting room, far more self-conscious than Regan had been, but utterly statuesque.

“You’re both thin and very… traditionally attractive,” Emma said, quietly, still clearly confused, even as she was still blushing.

Regan rolled her lips. “I mean, I know that. But – look. Spending my entire life standing next to Sutton, who’s tall and has all of her muscle-tone and the flame-red hair… people notice Sutton first. Even me,” she added with a self-deprecating laugh.

Saying that aloud made her stomach churn unpleasantly, especially when Emma stared at her as if she was trying to read Regan’s mind.

“Anyway,” Regan cleared her throat uncomfortably – wow, her texts with her sister really did get into her head so easily. “I am ready – except for the outfit.” She made a sweeping gesture at her bed, where her top contenders were laid out.

Emma slowly dropped her gaze from Regan’s face, and Regan wasn’t sure she’d ever be so pleased that Emma was ingrained to never pry. She stared, instead, at the clothing on the bed, her expression scrunching up, adorably. “Regan, you’re the one doing me a favor. Wear whatever you want.”

But Regan shook her head. “No way! We’re doing this as a ruse for your family, and I’m not going to half-ass it. If I’m going to full-ass it, I need your input on what will impress the most.”

Grandly, she gestured to the clothing closest to the head of the bed. “We have option number one: the dark blue sundress with the flowers on it.”

“It doesn’t really feel like you,” Emma commented, staring down at the dress with a skeptical look on her face.

Regan studied Emma’s profile, surprise sliding through her. “That’s because it’s not; this is Sutton’s dress. I think it reads: yes, I’m dating your daughter, but I’m a very sweet girl. Don’t worry, I don’t do unspeakable things to her at night.”

The color rose high on Emma’s cheeks at that, before she vehemently shook her head. “Not that dress.”

Regan pulled her lips to the side, nodding in agreement. “All right; so we aren’t going for politician’s daughter.”

“No, and we aren’t going for option number three, either,” Emma vetoed, as she eyed the mint green cocktail dress. “It looks like we’re going to a five-star restaurant, instead of my mom’s house in the New Jersey suburbs. Unless that’s what you want to wear, of course.”

Regan shook her head. “No, I just wanted to have every option available. Granted, the one meeting I had with your mom didn’t really make it seem like she’d be super… fancy.”

She thought about the woman that had shown up on her doorstep with the short skirt and animal print blouse. Yeah, okay, that dress would definitely be overkill.

“The one in the middle is good; it looks like you.” Emma commented, looking at the winning pick.

It was one of Regan’s summer usuals – denim shorts and a band tee – and she found a sweet warmth moving through her at Emma’s comment. Emma’s comment that clearly hadn’t even been intended to be a compliment, but Regan felt like it was one.

Moving quickly – they were on a deadline – she tugged on the outfit. “Thanks.”

Finally, Emma looked at her. “For helping you pick out clothing?”

Breathing out a slightly embarrassed laugh, Regan shook her head. “For wanting me to be… me.”

The blush on Emma’s cheeks deepened as she cleared her throat. “It’s not a big deal. In terms of what you’re doing for me, actually, it’s miniscule.”

It wasn’t to Regan, but she wasn’t going to push it.

“Uh, anyway. The car is outside.” Emma held up her phone, where the app, indeed, informed them that their driver was waiting.

“In that case, you might want to button up your own shirt,” Regan commented, letting her eyes drift down to her cleavage once more. “Unless you planned on wearing it that way to your mom’s house.”

Emma’s gaze darted down to her top, before she cursed under her breath. She shot Regan a dark look as she quickly brought her hands up to do up enough buttons to cover up her bra. “I got distracted from dressing myself to help someone else.”

Regan merely shot her an unbothered grin. “I wasn’t complaining.”

Emma had already turned on her heel. “Let’s go before the driver leaves.”

***

Kennedy L. Gallagher – 5:20PMYou know I hate when you do that ridiculous thumbs up response, Regan. Can you acknowledge my message like an adult?

Regan stared dismally down at her phone in her lap as their uber set off through their neighborhood in the direction of Englewood.

Well, Regan hated when her sister talked to her like she was a misbehaving pet instead of a person, so…

Because she could, she sent her sister another thumbs up in response, before turning off text notifications and sliding her phone under her thigh as she stared out the window of the car.

“Are you still okay about doing this?” Emma asked, her voice quiet and intent.

Regan turned to look at Emma in confusion. “Yeah? Why? Because I’m being quiet for once?”

She’d intended for the words to be joking, but she winced as soon as she said them aloud.

All right, so maybe Kennedy’s texts had made her a little… sharp. It wasn’t often that she interacted with her sister, so whenever it happened, it left her feeling a little – off.

“Sorry,” she sighed, folding her arms around her waist, not offering any further explanation.

Not only did she not want to get into talk about her sister at all, but she was also still treading lightly on certain topics with Emma. The last thing she wanted when she was wanting to completely win Emma over was to let Emma know that Regan’s sister totally agreed with every negative belief Emma had ever held about her.

 Emma’s eyebrows furrowed as she watched Regan closely, before she slowly shook her head. “Honestly, it’s fine. I’ve said way worse to you,” she added, tilting her lips up in a teasing smile.

Admittedly, it did make Regan chuckle, breaking into her mood. “True. I take my apology back, because I believe in equality.”

Now, Emma breathed out a laugh, but she still watched Regan closely. Disarmingly closely. “I was asking because you’re the one that told me you love partaking in a little scheme, so I figured you’d be more excited right now. In the last two days, you’ve texted me four times about our relationship details. And that’s not even counting how you spent last night making a batch of cookies, because you didn’t want to show up tonight empty handed.”

Regan tilted her head in acknowledgement. “True and fair points.”

“Listen, if you aren’t up to this, it’s not too late. We can go back home, and I can tell my mother that you aren’t feeling well,” Emma offered.

The eagerness in her voice snagged Regan’s attention, and she shifted to face Emma in the back of the car. “Why do I get the feeling that you’d like that you’d like to do that more than I would?”

Emma’s generous lips drew together tightly and she turned away from Regan’s gaze to look out the window, herself.

Her own family issues completely pushed aside, Regan couldn’t help the question that escaped her. “Can I ask – what is the story here? Between you and your mom?”

She knew that Emma didn’t want to talk about it; Emma was the way she was because she valued her privacy so deeply. Regan had learned that about her – finally – given everything that had happened since they’d moved in together.

But, god, she was so fucking curious. Since the morning Kimberly had shown up on their doorstep weeks ago, she’d been ravenous for the truth.

“I’m not asking because of, like, wanting to gossip or anything like that,” she swore, holding up two fingers. “Scout’s honor. This stays between you and me – all of it. Even if you don’t tell me the whole story.”

She really hoped Emma could hear her sincerity, because it was all true.

Regan had taken some of what Emma had said to heart. Regan did like to gossip – not out of malice, but because she fucking loved a good story, and she loved regaling them to others. But… she understood that Emma didn’t like people knowing her personal business, and she could honor that.

She had been honoring that.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I get it; family stuff can be complicated.” With the texts from Kennedy sitting on her phone, Regan really, really understood the truth of that statement. “But I want you to know, especially before we see your family, that I haven’t said anything about this, to anyone. Not even to Sutton.”

And she’d really, really wanted to tell Sutton; she told Sutton just about everything. And Sutton had been texting very regularly, pointedly asking how everything was going with Emma, so it had taken Regan more than a little restraint.

As Emma slid her gaze from the passing cityscape to Regan, she fully expected Emma to not answer.

“You’re right – I don’t have to tell you,” Emma allowed, several seconds later, seeming as if she’d come to terms with some internal debate. “But you are going out of your way to help me out, which you’ve been doing since the second you’ve been thrown into this mess. You didn’t have to do any of this, but here you are.” She used her hand to gesture at Regan, up and down.

Regan found herself sitting at attention, eager anticipation working through her. She was so, so wanting to know, she was practically vibrating with excitement.

Emma’s dark eyebrows drew together as she took a deep breath. “My mom had me when she was fifteen,” she began, and Regan’s eyebrows shot up in surprise – not where she’d expected the story to start.

Then again, as she pictured Kimberly, she could connect the image with this information easily.

“My grandpa – her dad – had died the year before that, and she… obviously, didn’t handle it that well.” Emma shrugged. “So, she was not ready for me. In any way.”

Regan nodded. “Sure. What teenager could be?”

“Right. So, we lived with my grandma, and my gram… well, she did everything for me. She’s amazing,” Emma informed Regan, so seriously and with such a warmth in her voice, Regan couldn’t help but smile.

“Makes sense why you’re more worried about what she thinks about me than your mom, then,” she commented, without any bite. Regardless of how that had been the starting point of their argument, Regan understood the root of it now, at least.

Emma’s face was full of consternation as she hummed softly, clearly thinking over what to say, next.

Regan almost told her that she didn’t have to say anything more, that she understood the fundamental parts of this, now. But like hell was she going to stop Emma from sharing with her, not when she was so ready to soak up every drop of information.

“Kimberly… was unreliable, I guess, is the best way to say it. She’d dropped out of high school, and she lived with us, on and off. And when she was there, it was – it could be great,” Emma whispered, and Regan wasn’t sure if Emma even realized it.

“Like when she took you for bagels at the deli,” Regan slipped in, quietly, thinking about Kimberly clutching those bagels like a lifeline.

Emma blinked several times, as if coming back to reality in the back of the car. “Right. Anyway. If she wasn’t with me and Gram, she was staying with some guy. Kimberly always had a… sketchy dating life. But when I was thirteen, she met Ted. And I don’t know what it was about him or if she was just finally ready, but – she grew up. They got married when I was fourteen, and he got offered a job in Miami soon after that.”

She gave these details perfunctorily, as if she’d decided that she’d given enough emotion into the story, and was over it.

Regan was completely invested, as she found herself scooting closer to Emma. “You didn’t go with her,” she filled in, expectantly.

Emma snorted from laughter. “Uh, no.” Still, the look on her face grew pensive, as she quietly said, “She asked me if I would, if I’d even consider it. A lot. But I didn’t want to. I couldn’t imagine living away from my grandma, and I’d already started high school. So, she went with Ted. Then she had my sisters.”

Regan blinked, shaking her head as she held up a hand to hit pause. “Wait – there are going to be sisters there tonight?” Had she known this? She didn’t think so.

Questioning amusement etched into Emma’s face. “Yes. Eden’s twelve, and Everly’s… eight? Yeah, eight.”

“Are they fun?” Regan asked.

“I don’t really know,” Emma admitted after a few beats. “I’m not close to them. Obviously.”

Contrite, Regan nodded. “Right. Obviously.”

Emma shrugged, exhaling deeply. “I’ve only ever met them a couple of times, whenever my mom brought them up here for visits. But they all moved up here in March. And Kimberly’s been… intent… on trying to bond ever since.” Emma turned to stare intently out the window once more as she murmured, “And you saw about how well that went when she came to the apartment.”

Regan had a million more questions. She wanted to know everything, and questions nearly started spilling past her lips.

But, as she looked closely at Emma, the anxiety she was feeling was clear as day. And Regan found that the questions she would normally ask fell right back down her throat.  

She didn’t need verbal confirmation to tell her what she could see with her own eyes.

They arrived only minutes later, and both came to a halting stop on the sidewalk as soon as the uber drove away behind them.

Regan let out a low whistle as she stared up at the house before them. The house itself was sprawling, with a large, well-maintained front lawn, and a long stone walkway in front of them, leading up to the front door.

“So… I didn’t expect a McMansion to be our final destination,” she finally said, turning to look at Emma as she gestured up at the house.

Emma’s expression was grim, as she, too, made no move to conquer the walkway up to the front door. “Yeah. Me, neither.”

The emotion in her words made Regan wince, as she dragged her gaze back to the house. “I’d expected something… different.”

Maybe she’d been relying too heavily on stereotypes, based on the way Kimberly had been dressed and how much makeup she’d worn. Which, no judgment on Regan’s part! But Regan had grown up in a neighborhood very similar to this one, and none of her neighbors styled themselves the way Kimberly had.

Also, there’d been that whole thing about how Emma hadn’t been able to afford the Alton Writing Fellowship, so she’d made some assumptions about money…

Which this home did not align with.

Emma sighed, capturing Regan’s attention once more. She watched as Emma swallowed, heavily. And still made no attempt to move closer to the house.

“You know, we haven’t even knocked yet,” Regan lowered her voice, conspiratorially. “We don’t have to.”

Finally, Emma’s stare tore itself away from the house to blink down at Regan in confusion. “What?”

She wiggled her eyebrows as she whispered, “We can go. Call another Uber. Go get a pizza. Hang out at home. I’ll let you pick the entertainment tonight, even though I’m terrified of what you might choose.”

Last weekend, when Regan had extended Emma the option of picking what they’d watch for the first time since they’d started their hangouts, Emma had simply shrugged and informed Regan that she didn’t really watch many shows or movies. When Regan had pressed, baffled, Emma had informed her that she’d been so busy between school and work in the last few years, she hadn’t kept up with anything current, and that she hadn’t wanted to pay for any subscriptions.

Terrifying, really.  

Emma rolled her eyes, scoffing out a laugh as she pushed Regan’s shoulder with her own.

And that reaction – so normal, a little bit of color returning to Emma’s cheeks – gave Regan a rush of relief.

“No… it’s fine. We’re here. We’re finally here. Now, we just go in and… it won’t be so bad, probably,” Emma muttered, as she returned her attention to the imposing Stepford-like home in front of them.

“It won’t be,” Regan assured her, feeling certain of the fact. “I’ll be here with you the whole time, running general interference. I’ll be the best buffer you’ve ever seen. When we go in there, we’re a team,” she promised. She didn’t hesitate as she offered Emma her hand. “Thom and Geri?”

Emma breathed out a laugh, staring at Regan for a few seconds as she slid her fingers firmly and warmly between Regan’s. “Thom and Geri.”

Chapter Eleven

Weird.

It was the only word Emma could properly think of to describe this evening.

So, so weird.

From the literal moment that Kimberly pulled the front door open when she and Regan were halfway up the winding walkway.

Her mom was dressed in a satin cocktail dress, and she waved at them exuberantly as she wore the widest smile on her face. “Look at you two!”

“I thought you said my cocktail dress wasn’t the appropriate attire tonight?” Regan whispered to her, laughter in her voice, as she squeezed Emma’s hand.

And it was that hand squeeze – warm, firm, coaxing – that kept Emma going. One foot in front of the other into the belly of the beast, so-to-speak.

“Oh, my Emma Bo Bemma,” Kimberly murmured, as she pulled Emma into a hug as soon as she and Regan were on the porch. Her arms bracketed Emma tightly, and she felt the way she always did when her mom hugged her – comforted and uncertain at the same time. A disconcerting feeling. “Look at you!” She reached out and ran her fingers lightly over the collar of Emma’s shirt, then over the cotton fabric of the shoulders. “So sharp.”

“I thought the exact same thing,” Regan cut in from beside her, immediately snagging her mom’s attention.

“And Regan, just as cute as the last time I saw you.” Kimberly released Emma entirely and moved to pull Regan against her.

And Regan shot her a wink over her mom’s shoulder, which somehow, bafflingly, loosened the knots in Emma’s stomach.

Regan let Kimberly hug her for entirely too long as was normal, and Emma’s stomach churned again, wondering… was this how long her mom wished she could have hugged her for? Only she knew Emma wouldn’t have liked it?

“Mom, you have to, like, let her breathe.” A voice commented from a few feet back.

Kimberly laughed as she pulled away from Regan, and all three of them looked toward the doorway.

And there they were.

Eden, Everly, and Ted, completing the perfect family that fit into this perfect home.

Emma thought she might be sick.

Kimberly clasped her hands as she stood in the gap between Emma-and-Regan and everyone else. “Regan, these are Emma’s sisters. Eden.” She pointed at the frowning preteen – at Emma’s sister – that had made the snarky comment, then at the shorter, grinning girl. “And Everly.”

It always took Emma aback, seeing both Eden and Everly. Seeing these girls that looked like her – at least a little. Emma got her height and her build from her unknown father’s side of the family, but she shared the same features as these girls. It never failed to serve as a jarring feeling.

“And this is Ted, my husband,” she finished, taking a few steps toward the doorway, before she paused and looked unsure if she should continue closing the distance to stand with her actual family, or if she should stand in the middle.

“Everyone, this is Regan, Emma’s partner,” she stressed the word, throwing a proudly beaming smile in Emma’s direction.

And she found herself smiling back, even though the movement felt awkward.

She never knew how to do this. How to greet her… family? These girls shared half of her DNA, when Emma looked at their little faces, she saw herself. And yet, she didn’t know what to do with that fact. She didn’t know what they thought when they saw her, either. She couldn’t imagine they loved her; they barely knew her.

“Uh, hey, everyone. It’s nice to see you, again.” Emma offered a wave.

Was that stupid? She felt stupid. And she felt annoyed at feeling stupid.

Regan stepped in closer to her, their sides brushing firmly together as she smiled that bright, brilliant, breathtaking smile. And it wasn’t awkward or stilted looking at all, as she easily greeted, “Oh my god, you all look so much like Emma!” She looked back at Emma briefly, before leaning in toward the doorway. “The crazy blue eyes, those cheekbones. That’s amazing; I don’t look like my sister all that much.” She paused, tilting her head toward Ted. “Except for you; you don’t have the striking family features. But I think it’s a good thing you don’t resemble your wife!”

She laughed, then, and Emma wondered if making a joke about… incest? Should be normal or funny when first meeting someone, but for some Regan-reason, it worked. She found her own smile melting into one that felt natural, as Ted – serious, quiet Ted – laughed as well.

“You guys took forever to walk up here,” Eden cut in, who wasn’t laughing or smiling.

Instead, she arched a blonde eyebrow up at Emma. Eden was different than the last time Emma had seen her – older, naturally, as it had been… two years? Yeah, almost two years since Kimberly had brought the girls on a visit up to New York. The last time she’d seen her sisters, Eden had been ten and curious, asking Emma a million questions about her life. Emma answered as readily and honestly as she could, figuring that the best way to handle the conversation was to act the way she would if Eden were a kid she was babysitting, which had been her main gig throughout high school and into undergrad.

But she seemed more serious right now, more direct. Direct enough for Emma to know that she was no longer the same curious kid that she could talk to as a babysitter.

“What, were you watching us?” Regan asked, teasingly.

“Yeah, mom’s been staring out the window for like an hour!” Everly added, giggling.

Emma could imagine, easily, her mother pacing. Likely wondering if Emma was even going to come, or if she’d get a text that excused her and Regan’s absence at the last minute. She knew, as she scanned her gaze over everyone else’s expressions – well, everyone over ten – that they all knew that to be true, too.

Kimberly’s lips twitched up into a forced smile, but before she could speak, Regan was already chatting, “Well, this house is absolutely gorgeous.” She used the hand that wasn’t holding onto Emma’s to gesticulate dramatically around them. “Honestly, I needed Emma – miss punctual over here – to allow me to take a minute and marvel at it. The front gardens are really incredible; do you upkeep them, Kimberly?”

“She does,” Ted asserted. Well, as much as Ted ever asserted, in his heartily soft-spoken voice.

Her mom flushed as she waved her hand in front of her. “It’s not a big deal. The last owners left very detailed instructions on how to maintain the grounds when we moved.”

“Trust me, it’s a big deal,” Regan doubled down with a serious nod.

“Do you garden?” Kimberly asked, looking for all she was worth like having a shared interest with Regan was a dream come true.

Regan made a pfft sound. “Not really. I mean, you saw our apartment; we don’t really have a yard,” she laughed, easily.

Still, Emma frowned and shook her head as she looked at Regan. “No, wait. You do have a ton of plants.”

There were a handful of plants artfully arranged in the living room, near the bay windows that were always lush and thriving. And, on top of that, Emma had seen earlier tonight that Regan’s room held several more plants.

There were a variety – a couple of hanging ones, a large potted standing plant, one on her desk – but they were all plush and green, and had made Regan’s room look so… fresh. Alive. Inviting.

She’d never been in there before Regan had called her in, insisting she needed help choosing an outfit. After all, she granted Regan the same privacy she’d like to be afforded. And she’d imagined that Regan’s room would be a little chaotic, much like the woman herself.

But she’d been pleasantly surprised.

No, it wasn’t as organized as Emma’s own space was. But it fit her large bed, desk, dresser, and plants with some extra space to spare. It was bigger than Emma’s room was, which she’d found surprising – because that meant that between Regan and Sutton, Regan had the larger room – but it felt cozy. There were a litany of knick-knacks, which she’d expected from Regan, but from what she’d taken note of, it wasn’t insanity incarnate.

Granted, she hadn’t studied anything too closely.

Not when Regan had stood only feet away from her in that lingerie. Looking absolutely, ridiculously sexy.

It didn’t shock her that Regan was so forward, so unassuming about herself. It shouldn’t have shocked her that Regan would summon her, while looking like… well, like an underwear model, not an ounce of shame in her body.

And, in fairness, Regan had nothing to be ashamed of.

Emma knew that Regan Gallagher was beautiful; she had eyes. Emma even knew that she was attracted to Regan; she wasn’t crazy.

But it was one thing to know those things to be true, and another entirely to be faced with the most attractive person she knew, that happened to be her roommate, wearing basically nothing.

She could feel herself blush, as Regan smiled up at her. Even though she was doing exactly as she’d promised and acting as a world-class buffer, the look in her eyes was nothing short of genuine.

“I do love my plants,” Regan confirmed, tilting her head slightly up at Emma, before she turned her attention back to Kimberly.

Emma was able to take a real, deep breath again, as alarm bells – ones that had nothing to do with Kimberly or her sisters – rang in the back of her mind.

“But it’s not the same thing as keeping up this kind of yard.”

“I think keeping your plants thriving when you live in an apartment like that might be even more impressive,” Kimberly readily disagreed.

“I think you said that dinner was supposed to be ready in ten minutes, fifteen minutes ago,” Eden cut in, obviously bored by the conversation about greenery.

Kimberly’s eyes widened in surprise. “You’re right, honey!” She clapped her hands together. “Let’s head in. I’ll give you a tour before we settle at the table.”

Emma let out her first easy breath since they’d arrived once her mom’s back was turned to them.

“Anything you need me to change? I can be adaptable,” Regan whispered to her, dark eyes staring up into her own.

Looking down at Regan, Emma took comfort in the sincere look she wore, and she was already shaking her head before she realized it. “No. Please, keep doing what you’re doing.”

She was certain she was going to need it.

***

Yes. Weird was the most fitting word.

It was weird getting a tour of the three-thousand square foot home her mom now lived in, with her husband and two children. Weird being told that there was a guest room upstairs that Kimberly would just love for Emma and Regan to stay in, sometime.

It was weird to be on the receiving end of so many dirty looks and snarky remarks from Eden.

It was weird to be seated across from Everly, who basically bounced in her chair and looked at Emma like she was a celebrity.

She supposed the only thing that wasn’t weird was Ted. As his mostly silent presence was the same as she’d remembered since meeting him as a teenager.

And it was the weirdest thing of all that the biggest comfort she had was in having Regan by her side.

Never in a million fucking years would she have thought that Regan Gallagher would be her savior, especially not when it came to Kimberly, but… she was living in proof of it.

Regan kept up conversation with Kimberly, asking about the food she’d cooked, about what it was like living in Miami. She talked about dance trends and a popular children’s show – something Emma had never even heard of – with Everly. She’d easily and brightly responded to every remark that Eden had made.

Especially as Eden had stared at them from across the table as they’d sat down, and remarked, “You’re still holding hands? It’s been, like, forever.” Her gaze had fallen defiantly to Emma. “What’s that about?”

Emma had felt simultaneously like she wanted to laugh at the idea of a twelve-year-old trying to shame her, at the same time that she felt embarrassed at the fact that she was holding Regan’s hand like a lifeline.

Rather than let go, though as they pulled out their chairs with their free hands, Regan had made a point to flex her fingers around Emma’s. The touch was firm and grounding, and Emma found herself holding tighter.

She’d never been a big hand-holder, not even when she’d been with Felicity, but the constant reminder that she wasn’t alone tonight felt… it felt remarkably, insanely good.

“I just love to hold her hand,” Regan had commented back, humming contentedly as she’d stroked her thumb over the back of Emma’s hand.

Emma felt herself shiver at it, the touch feeling like some sort of casual intimacy that she shouldn’t have with Regan. But, in this moment, she did. And it was the least uncomfortable occurrence happening to her.

“Sometimes, holding someone’s hand can feel so comfortable. Like second nature. It might be something you enjoy with your future partner,” Regan had said, her voice so warm.

And it hadn’t mattered to Emma that Regan’s words were a lie. They’d felt true enough in the moment.

She even drew Ted out of his shell, as she asked him about his job as a senior accountant at the firm he worked at. “I don’t know much about numbers, but I do know that I once had to take a basic accounting class as part of the managerial program at the café, and it taught me that no matter where I end up in life – it won’t be in finance.”

Emma grinned at Regan’s dramatic expression, as she moved the food around on her plate.

“You said you’re a barista, right?” Kimberly asked, leaning in with interest from where she sat at the head of the table. “Where, exactly, is that?”

“Topped Off. It’s right near the NYU campus that most of Emma’s classes were at.” Regan answered, tossing her a large, deliberately cheesy smile. “It’s how we met.”

“Ohhh, a meet cute?” The excitement in Kimberly’s voice was undeniable.

“Absolutely,” Regan confirmed, heartily.

Emma couldn’t stop herself from scoffing. “I don’t know about that.”

“I do,” Regan defended, narrowing her eyes at Emma.

Emma held her ground. “A meet cute is something charming.”

“It’s a memorable, exciting first interaction,” Regan argued, turning to face everyone else, who were staring with undeniably rapt attention. “I accidentally spilled coffee all over Emma’s shirt–”

“Which she then proceeded to literally tear off of me,” Emma cut in, dryly, garnering laughter from around the table.

Being the cause of the laughter, of that light moment, made her feel strangely… proud, and she found herself sitting up straighter in her chair.

“Not all the way off,” Regan attempted to reason. “I just had to open it, to make sure she didn’t get burned!”

“Liquid burns are no joke,” Ted added with a firm nod.

Emma couldn’t help the incredulous laugh that left her throat. “Oh my god!”

Regan’s grin was sheer triumph, as she tossed a look at Emma. “Thank you, Ted. I agree.”

Emma stared back, a ridiculous smile working onto her face at Regan’s self-righteous expression. A smile she could get rid of, even as she explained herself, “There were dozens of people there. Watching this happen.”

“But, I promptly took her back to the break room, and gave her my favorite sweatshirt to change into.” Regan tsked at her, eyes gleaming with laughter. “You always forget that part.”

“It is a very comfy sweatshirt,” Emma admitted on a defeated sigh. That much, she would give Regan.

She didn’t realize what exactly she’d said to make the sweet playfulness drop from Regan’s expression, shifting to something that looked curious.

And she didn’t have much time to think about it, before Kimberly let out an aww. “That is a meet cute! You don’t really ever hear about people meeting in person like that too much, these days.”

“Um… yeah,” Regan mused, still looking so intently at Emma.

So intently, it made her stomach clench. But not with nerves.

Finally, Regan shook her head, looking back at Kimberly. “It’s so true, not in the day and age of dating apps.”

Eden cleared her throat. “Can I start clearing plates? I’m done… and it looks like Emma is, too.”

Emma’s attention – along with everyone else’s – went to her own plate. Where she’d been pushing around the same carrot in the beef stew Kimberly had made for a while.

“Did you not like it?” Kimberly asked, her voice quiet. “I know it’s summer, so this is a bit out of season, but I thought – well, I remembered that you always loved Gram’s beef stew, and this is her recipe.”

There it was again, that hopeful edge in her tone.

Emma had always loved her gram’s beef stew, and Regan’s effusive compliments toward Kimberly when they’d first sat down were true – it was delicious. At least, the few bites Emma had managed to take of it.

But she felt so uncomfortable, her stomach so tight, she hadn’t been able to eat much at all.

“No, it’s good. I’m just, um, I’m not super hungry tonight, I guess,” she muttered.

“Maybe for dessert, then?” Kimberly asked, ever optimistic, as she looked between Emma and Regan. “I know it’s a Saturday night, and you two probably have some other plans, but–”

“But every Saturday we have dessert during family movie night,” Everly eagerly interrupted, grinning widely. “It’s my turn to pick the movie!”

“If you’re able to stay?” Kimberly finished, focusing on Emma, her eyes so bright.

Emma’s stomach churned again, and she placed her fork down in her bowl, steadfastly avoiding her mom’s gaze. “I actually need to use the bathroom. Excuse me.”

She stood and blindly made her way from the dining room to the full bathroom down the hall, not able to take a real breath until she had the door shut behind her.

God, why was this so hard?

She sat down on the lip of the bathtub, dropping her head into her hands.

She shouldn’t be surprised, right? Because this feeling had been exactly what she’d been trying to outrun by avoiding Kimberly for the last few months.

Even if she wasn’t surprised, though, it was suffocating. It made her face feel too hot and her chest feel too tight, and Emma squeezed her eyes closed against the sensations.

Panic arced through her when the door to the bathroom opened, and she snapped her head up. “Occupied. A little privacy, please.”

If she couldn’t get privacy in the bathroom, where could she?!

“Emma, if I have to try to find another bathroom in this house, I might get lost!” Regan whisper-shouted, dramatically, as she shut the door behind her. “Besides, next time you need privacy, you should make sure you hit the lock.” As if to demonstrate, Regan did, indeed, lock the door.

Emma tried to summon some frustration. Really, she did.

But when she was faced with Regan and her gentle smile, Emma deflated.

In this house, somehow, Regan was her biggest ally. And she had taken up that mantle as if Emma was paying her handsomely to do so.

“I’ll leave you alone.” Regan’s voice was surprisingly soft and soothing – a tone Emma had never heard from her before. “You’ve just been gone for, like, almost ten minutes, and I… well, I got a little worried. I’m still a little worried, honestly.”

Emma managed to take a deep breath, even as surprised worked through her. It had been ten minutes?!

She swallowed thickly, shaking her head. “I’m fine.”

Across the bathroom, Regan leaned against the door, shooting her a disbelieving look. “Wow. I kind of thought you’d be a better liar than that.”

Again, she wished she could summon up the energy to glare at Regan for the gently teasing tone.

“I’ll be fine,” she amended, her cheeks still feeling too warm.

“I’m sure you will be,” Regan readily agreed. “But, as your girlfriend,” she added with a cheeky smile. One that – insanely – made the tightness in Emma’s chest relax a little. “It’s my job to make sure you’re okay in the moment.”

Emma closed her eyes again, needing to take a second.

“I turned down family movie night, even though Everly seems quite distraught that we won’t be here to watch the latest Pixar release. I cited the fact that I promised to take you to the bookstore before they close so you can enjoy a relaxing Sunday tomorrow with a new book.”

Emma felt Regan sit on the lip of the tub next to her, her solid warmth feeling like an anchor.

“It’s a good lie,” she whispered, still keeping her eyes closed. “If you were my girlfriend, that would be a perfect way to end a bad night.” She frowned, consideringly, “And a good night.”

Regan scoffed, “I know, I’ve seen the bookshelves in your room. You know those things are digitized now, right?” As she spoke, she dropped her hand to Emma’s forearm, stroking up and down.

The shockingly soothing sensation of Regan’s touch, mixed with Emma’s visceral internal reaction to that comment had her opening her eyes. “A digital book doesn’t come close to capturing the magic of physical one. You can never convince me.”

“Hey, I’m not the person raking in money from e-readers.” Regan held up her free hand defensively.

Emma merely sighed, leaning sideways against the wall.

“Look, Emma. I know that things – as you told me originally – are complicated, here. And I’m not going to tell you that you should be grateful or whatever, because… your feelings, whatever they may be, are valid. But you’re usually so straightforward, at least, you are with me,” Regan added, a grin flashing over her face, as she stroked her thumb over Emma’s wrist.

“Because talking to you is a lot easier than talking to Kimberly,” Emma retorted. At least, she’d meant to. But her words came out a lot softer than she’d intended.

What alternate universe had she found herself in, she wondered, as she stared at the woman next to her. Surely, something had to have happened in the fabric of time and space in the last few weeks that meant she was here in her mom’s house, taking comfort from Regan.

Regan’s smile grew impossibly brighter. “I just think that maybe, if you can try to talk to her with half of the brutal honesty you’ve used with me? Things might get resolved – one way or the other – a lot… neater. Without you needing to hide in the bathroom like you’re skipping third period chemistry.”

She wanted to tell Regan that her advice was a lot easier said than done.

But a much bigger part of her wanted to take Regan’s advice. Wanted to lean into it. Wanted, desperately, to move beyond this limbo she was in with her mother. The one she had been in for months, maybe even years, though it had been easier to avoid, then.

“All right.” Regan sighed, slowly sliding her hand from Emma’s arm. “I’ll get back to it; a fake girlfriend’s work is never done.”

Her put-upon tone pulled a hoarse laugh from the back of Emma’s throat.

Regan paused with her hand on the doorknob as she looked back at Emma. “You got this, Thom.”

She stared at the spot Regan had been standing in for several long moments, before clearing her throat and dragging her hands through her hair. If nothing else, Regan had already bought them a ticket out of here, and Emma held onto that as she let herself out of the bathroom.

As she quietly pulled the door closed behind her, her eyes latched onto the photos that lined the wall of the hallway.

She’d glimpsed them during her tour, but she hadn’t looked too closely.

There were, perhaps, too many photos for it to look truly balanced or artistic or whatever it was that interior designers aimed for. But all of them reflected happy, grinning faces of the family that lived in this house.

The family that had movie nights together every Saturday. The family that had bickered, playfully, over how big of a pool was big enough to have in their new house, after leaving Miami.

There were photos of her mom and Ted together, a whole smattering of Eden and Everly – individually and together. Birthday photos, school pictures, family photoshoots. So many pictures of her mom with both Eden and Everly, living their clearly quintessential childhoods. Not in any way reflective of the childhood she’d experienced with their mother, nor had she been a part it of when this new family had been built.

Yeah, there was that sickening feeling again.

Everything inside of Emma froze as her eyes landed on a photo of herself. On… a few photos of her, actually, she realized as she looked closer.

The biggest, most prominent photo of her was Emma from her senior yearbook. Hair done up, posing as directed by the school photographer, a muted smile on her lips.

There she was at her seventh birthday, where Kimberly had surprised her by not only showing up, but also lugging a box of beginner chapter books – Emma had been elated by both things.

There she was, again, at her seventh-grade science fair. Kimberly had, again, shocked her by showing up. By twelve, Emma had learned not to expect her mom to make it to school events. And when she did, she knew her mom would show up – the only parent from Emma’s middle school that was still in her twenties – wearing bright, flashy clothing, cut inappropriately short. Kimberly beamed in the photo, her arm slung over Emma’s shoulders. At twelve, she’d been hitting her growth spurt, so she and Kimberly had been nearly the same height. She was smiling, but adult Emma could see the strain starting to form, there.

There was a selfie Emma had taken with her gram, when she’d been accepted into NYU. That one, at the very least, made her lips curl into the ghost of a smile. Gram’s grin in the picture was as big as Emma’s.

And then, the smile froze in place. There she and Kimberly were, in the hospital after Kimberly had given birth to her. Emma couldn’t recognize herself in the photo – to her untrained eye, she, Eden, and Everly all looked exactly the same in these freshly-born pictures. But she knew this one was her. Because Kimberly was just so young, compared to the other two. She looked like… like a kid. Which, she had been.

Emma had no idea when Kimberly had gotten all of these photos from Gram, but – obviously – she had, at some point over the years.

“Emma,” Kimberly’s voice startled her as she stood a few feet away, pausing at the other end of the hall. “I,” she flicked her eyes to the photos Emma had clearly been staring at. “I, um, see that you’ve found the family photo wall.”

“Yeah.” Emma clasped her hands together, feeling distinctly like she’d been caught doing something wrong. “Sorry.”

Kimberly nearly tripped over herself as she jumped forward. “No! No, please don’t be sorry. It’s okay – it’s better than okay! You should look.”

But Emma didn’t want to look, anymore. She wanted, more than anything, to leave. In fact, she wanted – shockingly – very badly for Regan to return to her side, for her to swoop in and save the conversation.

She didn’t know how to hide her discomfort. She knew Kimberly could feel it – it was oppressively strong – and she hoped, senselessly, that her mom would just let it go. Would just let Emma leave, without another word.

Emma had never been that lucky.

“I know Regan said you two have plans. And it’s really sweet of her to take you to the bookstore; you’ve always loved a new book.” A wide, soft grin slid over Kimberly’s face, as she gestured without needing to look at the picture of her bringing Emma books for her birthday. “But – maybe you can stay for dessert? Just, a little while longer? You don’t have to stay for family movie night.”

Not only could she hear her mother’s hopeful tone, she could feel it, and it cut like a knife.

Unable to stop herself, she looked again at the slew of pictures on the wall. At the family that did family movie night every weekend.  

“Sorry, but we can’t stay,” Emma’s voice was rough as the words escaped her.

Because she wasn’t a part of this family. Not in that way. It was a truth that stung when she was confronted by it so blatantly. But it was a truth nonetheless.

“I know you don’t want to be here,” Kimberly’s voice was tight with sadness and disappointment and a whole host of emotion that Emma didn’t want to try to decipher.

Not when the shock of her mom’s words was still rushing through her. She opened her mouth, unsure of what to say. Even though she knew she hadn’t hidden her feelings – Regan was right; she’d never lied well – she’d never expected Kimberly to call her out on it.

Kimberly waved any possible comment away, her lips tugging into a small, unhappy smile. “You don’t need to say anything; it’s very clear. And I hate pushing you so much, I really do. Every time I call or text, it feels awful, because I know you don’t want to answer. But I can’t stop,” her mom confessed, taking in a trembling breath.

Emma’s stomach tightened into the biggest, tightest knot of the night, making her feel sick, but also making her feel like she wanted to cry. And she hated it, she hated every second that was crawling by.

“I just – I love you, so much, Emma Bo Bemma. I know it might be hard for you to believe. But I do. I know you hate it when I call you that name, too, and I can’t help it. Because I miss the days when I’d come to see you, and your little face would just light up. When you were so excited to see me, and you wanted me around.” Her voice went reedy, “When you loved me, too. And I regret everything from back then. Every time I flaked out. Every time I didn’t call. Every time I left.”

Emma’s throat was so tight with every word her mom spoke, she couldn’t have possibly responded even if she wanted to. It was so tight, she struggled to simply breathe through it.

“I know that our relationship is the way it is entirely because of me. But that’s why I haven’t been able to give up trying to get you over here for the last few months. I’ve – I’ve had this hope that if you just… if you came here, if I could have you here with your sisters, as a family, it would feel right.” There was a desperation in her words, one that burrowed deep into Emma’s chest.

“I thought – I hoped – that maybe it would feel right for you, too. Being here.” She took in a deep, shaking breath, as she lifted her wide, sad eyes to Emma’s. “But I can see that it doesn’t,” she conceded, bowing her head with the words. As if just saying that she was going to give up pained her.

“I understand why you hate me, Emma.” The tears that had been brimming in her mom’s eyes – the same blue as her own – spilled over in thick trails down her cheeks. “I wasn’t a good mom to you, not even close to the mother you deserved. And I don’t want you to resent me even more, so I… I’ll back off.”

Kimberly sniffled, reaching up to press her hand over her mouth, and Emma felt like her chest had been cracked open. It could no longer contain the tightness, the pain. The pain that she wished felt hollow, but it didn’t; it would be easier if this pain was hollow.

It was so, achingly, full.

“I don’t hate you,” she managed to push out, trying her best to blink back her own tears. The backs of her eyes burned with them.

“You – you don’t?” Kimberly asked, an undeniable hope in her voice as she searched Emma’s face.

God, Emma wished she did. She couldn’t say that, she couldn’t summon that kind of cruelty. But this would be so much simpler if she hated Kimberly.

“I don’t know how to feel, around you,” she confessed the truth in a whisper, dropping her gaze away from her mom’s. It felt like it was far too much to handle. “Because I do… love you.” The words nearly stuck in her throat, feeling so heavy.

What Kimberly had said minutes ago was true – throughout her childhood, Emma had been utterly thrilled every time her mom returned home. Every time she’d taken Emma out for bagels, every time she’d surprised her by simply being there. But it got harder as the years went on. And then the wall had been built, solid and nearly impenetrable, when her mom had moved to Florida, starting her family anew.

She hastily reached up to swipe the back of her hand over her eyes, trying to take a deep, stabilizing breath.

She did not want to break down here, in this hallway, surrounded by the family photos.

It took effort to clear her throat, trying to rid some of the tightness there, as she blinked her eyes open. “You – you don’t need to stop texting or calling. But… maybe less? Just – I need to be able to breathe.”

Kimberly’s eyes were wide, and she nodded along as if soaking in every word Emma said. “I can do that.”

“And please stop calling me during the workday.”

“Yes, absolutely. I’ll stop,” she promptly responded, breathing out a watery laugh.

As Emma took in a deep breath, she realized that she didn’t feel like she was drowning, anymore. She could do this; she could try with Kimberly.

After all, trying with Regan had been working wonders. Maybe it could work here, too.

***

The last thing Emma had expected to come from her night was actually browsing through the bookshelves at On the Same Page, the bookshop a block away from their apartment.

Regan had been the one to call for their Uber, which had dropped them off here, twenty minutes ago.

Even though she was mentally and emotionally exhausted from the emotions that had wrung her dry tonight, being here, surrounded by the stacks of one of her favorite bookshops gave her an immediate sense of calm. A soothing balm over the jagged edges inside of her that had been exposed tonight.

But right now, she was in her happy place. She’d combed through the general fiction section and had taken ten books from her TBR list, settling in one of the comfortable, worn chairs to go through her process of deciding which ones she was going to purchase.

Regan had disappeared when they’d walked through the doors, but Emma figured she would hear a commotion somewhere in the store, and find Regan eventually.

As if summoned by Emma’s thoughts, Regan appeared next to her.

“There you are!” In her hand was one of the little white paper bags from the small café at the back of the store.

Emma placed her hand over her small stack of books. “You know, I didn’t actually expect you to take me to the bookstore tonight.”

Regan shrugged as she walked closer, wedging herself between the little round display of books so that she could perch on the arm of Emma’s chair. “I know. But you said that this is the best way for you to end a bad night, so I figured… why not?”

The rush of appreciation that she felt for the woman taking up far too much of her personal space was alarming. But after the emotional toll of the night, Emma didn’t have it in her to fight it.

“You don’t have to buy my books, though,” she commented, leaning her head back and tilting it up to look at Regan properly.

Who was already looking down at her.

It was annoying, honestly, that Regan’s jaw looked so good from this angle; no one was supposed to look good from an angle under their chin.

Emma figured it had something to do with that radiant grin.

“Emma, what kind of girlfriend would I be if I didn’t buy your books?” Regan’s gaze dropped to the books in question, her eyes widening. “Wow. I leave you alone to go to the café, and you amassed half an aisle.”

Before Emma could respond, Regan’s eyes widened as if just remembering something, as she lifted the bag.

“Right! The bakery.” She opened the bag, reaching into it, before emerging with a double-chocolate cookie and a triumphant grin. “Here you go!”

Emma hadn’t even realized how hungry she actually was until presented with the treat. Still, she hesitated before taking it. “I can wait until we get home to have something else.”

Regan frowned, first at the cookie, then at her. “I thought it looked good.”

“It does,” she agreed.

Regan pushed it toward her, again, insistently. “Between the enormous stack of books in your lap and then the walk home, it’s going to be at least another half hour or so. Take the cookie.”

Emma pursed her lips as she reached out for the dessert, giving into her body’s demands. “It’s a dangerous thing, living with you,” she grumbled. “The desserts you’re always baking. The stuff you like to bring home from the café. This cookie.” She held it up, waving it in front of Regan’s face as if she needed the reminder.

Playfully, Regan leaned forward and took a bite of it. Her dark eyes grinned down at Emma as she flicked her tongue out and licked a wayward crumb from her bottom lip.

Emma diverted her gaze. Yes; it had been a long night.

“Emma, you hardly ate anything at dinner. Like, you ate nothing tonight. Besides, you have a great body. A little dessert is fine.”

She glanced up at Regan, dubiously. “You know, we’re not actually at my mom’s house anymore. You don’t have to keep up the compliments and adoring girlfriend thing.”

Regan’s eyebrows knitted together as she turned even more inward on the arm of the chair. Her thigh settled firmly against Emma’s side, as she asked, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Emma stared at her, feeling the burning sensation in her cheeks returning. “The comment about my body,” she muttered.

But Regan didn’t back down. “No, I got that; I still don’t understand what you mean.”

“Regan,” she grit out, exasperated.

“Emma,” Regan mirrored.

It pushed her enough to gesture down at herself. “I mean that I’m not… fun-sized like you are. Obviously.”

“And?” Regan immediately asked, her stare intent. Demanding.  

Emma squirmed where she sat. “You’ve seen me without my shirt on multiple times,” she reminded her, frustrated with how embarrassed she felt. “Not by my choice, I might add.”

“Uh, yeah? I think that actually makes me a great qualified source.”

Emma groaned, dropping her head back against the chair, leaving her eye-level with Regan’s chest. Which she immediately looked away from, staring straight up at the ceiling.

Honestly, she didn’t hate her body; she’d come a long way from the issues she’d had with herself in school. She’d towered over most of her classmates when she’d hit her growth spurt at thirteen, pushing her to nearly her full height. Her breasts had grown, insanely fast, as well as her butt, hips, and thighs, and her skin still had the stretch marks from that growth.  

“Regan, come on. I’m five-ten, and I’m not a waif, like Sutton is. We both know that.”

Still, Regan stared down at her, confusion clear. “Yeah, I obviously know you aren’t a waif.” She frowned, then, muttering, “What a word to use.”

Before Emma could interject, Regan’s gaze returned to her. And not her face, either.

No, Regan’s intent stare started at her thighs. “I really like your body, though. Why do you think I’m being disingenuous?”

Emma really wanted to make an easy quip back. But she found herself incapable of doing so, as Regan’s eyes slowly took her in, moving up her body as if studying a piece of art.

As if Emma were that piece of art.

And it felt – it felt damningly uncomfortable. But not in the same way she’d been uncomfortable at Kimberly’s. This was far more… aware.

“You have an incredible figure,” Regan’s voice was quiet. Thoughtful. Slightly raspy. “Which you have to know; most of your outfits highlight the curve of your waist.”

When those dark eyes fell to her chest, she shivered. Then cursed herself for it, before she silently cursed Regan. Because, why was Regan looking at her like that?!

It was – it was wildly, insanely inappropriate.

And it was very, very wrong for a straight woman to stare at another woman like this, a voice said in the back of Emma’s mind.

Before she thought… well, this was Regan. So.

“And your breasts are so incredible. Just – so impressive. They look soft,” Regan finally said, staring –

Emma followed her gaze, feeling her own breathing grow more erratic at the way she was being watched, as she realized that from Regan’s vantage point, she had a great view.

“Are you staring down my shirt?” She found herself asking, baffled by the fact that it really did seem like Regan was doing so.

Baffled and heated. Emma tried to tell herself the heat was from frustration, but –

“Oh my god!” Regan shouted out, as her solid presence disappeared from Emma’s side.

She watched, wide-eyed, as Regan fell off the side of the chair she’d perched herself on, knocking into the small display of books behind her. All of the books joined Regan on the descent to the floor.

Emma jumped up, herself, in alarm, sending her own potential book purchases falling to the floor.

If she was any other customer, she’d be annoyed by the chaos. But, as it was, she could only be grateful for it, for cutting through whatever dangerous place her mind had started to go to.

“Are you okay?” She asked, genuine concern starting to set in when Regan didn’t immediately pop up.

Instead, she stared dazedly up at Emma, blinking several times, her mouth agape but not saying anything.

“Did you hit your head?” She pressed, leaning down next to Regan as her concern grew.

Regan looked at her, eyes moving over her face slowly, before she slowly shook her head. “I’m fine. I’m – I’m totally good.”

Emma offered her a hand, which Regan stared at with wide eyes for several long moments. Long enough that Emma really started getting concerned that it would be her turn to escort Regan to the hospital. Finally, she hesitantly reached out and slid her palm against Emma’s.

Yes. Weird was the appropriate word for the evening, indeed.

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spoiler protection

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