Chapter Seven

Emma must have climbed down the stairs to the kitchen a dozen times, each time running back up to her room to change, only to tell herself she was being stupid. She finally made herself walk all the way to the kitchen, the sensation of tile floor unfamiliar beneath her bare feet.

She found Anne, dressed in a nautical-blue striped jumper, sitting at the kitchen counter digging into a container of kale salad.

Anne's eyes widened at the sight of her, and she coughed hard, beating her palm against her sternum.

"Do I look awful? I must look awful," Emma fretted. All her courage from earlier fled. She was stupid. Of course she should look her best. The way to make Knight see her was to go over-the-top, not under the table. What had she been thinking?

"You look nice! I just wasn't expecting—"

"Nice?" She groaned, dug her elbows into the island, and buried her face in her hands. Nice was the kiss of death.

"Better than nice," Anne amended. "You look… Emma, look at me."

Emma lifted her head.

"There's nothing wrong with how you look. You are beautiful. A million girls would kill to have your perfect skin and that crazy cat eye color. You could dump a tub of mud over your head and you'd still be the best thing in ten counties. But you have to admit, it's a little weird. So tell me. What's up?"

Emma glanced over her shoulder, as if expecting to see Knight appear in the kitchen. "Maybe we should go to my room."

"It's just you and me."

Emma furrowed her brow. "Where are the guys?"

"Josh met a girl at the adoption event. Convinced the guys to join him and her on a ride." Anne's lips tilted at the corners. "He's pretty good at being heartbroken over Fanny."

"Ugh, just…ugh!" Emma grabbed a fork and stabbed at Anne's kale salad. "Men! They have no idea what they want. They just twist all our feelings around. They're heartbroken when it's convenient for them."

"He's still heartbroken," Anne insisted. "He just deals with it differently. In fairness to him, you tried to mend my broken heart by setting me up, too. He's doing the same thing."

"No, he isn't. My plan had class."

"No arguing there." They clinked forks. "It's nice with just the two of us, though. I like it."

Knight rounded into the kitchen. "Sorry to disappoint." He was freshly showered, his hair still wet.

Emma's fork clattered to the counter. She picked it up and put it in her mouth, realized there was no food on it, and set it back down.

Knight stopped short as he saw her. He blinked twice. His mouth fell open.

She'd wanted him to see her. She'd asked for it. Now she was getting it.

She fought the urge to smooth back her hair. "What… Why… You're here. Not with them." She bit down on her tongue before she said something really dumb.

"Uh, yeahhh…" Knight glanced from Emma to Anne back to Emma. "Is this some kind of girl's-night thing?"

Emma blinked at him. She was standing in front of him, soul bared, stripped to basics, and he thought it was a girl's-night thing?

"I can head back to the pool house," he said. "I just want dinner. Anything else in the fridge?"

"You have eyes. Check," Emma blurted. She wanted to swallow the words as soon as they came out. Annoyed as she was, she knew better than to be a jerk to someone you wanted to like you. You were nice to people you wanted to be nice to you. It was a simple rule—the golden rule, actually.

Before she could take back her retort, Anne stood up and opened the fridge. "There's some leftover roast chicken," Anne offered.

"Thanks, Anne. I'd love some." Knight raised his brows at Emma as if to say, See, civilized behavior. Take notes.

Anne took out the roast chicken , and Knight cozied up next to her, elbows on the counter. He reached over to squeeze Anne's right shoulder. "Looks delicious."

"No night out for you?" Anne asked.

Emma's tongue felt swollen and turgid. Where were her witty remarks? Her center stage presence? She was supposed to bring out the big guns, and instead of being larger than life and beautiful, she was a mute in a sweatshirt.

"Looks like you guys are stuck with me for the night. Josh rented some fancy convertible. Bucket seats. Room for four. And Knight makes five."

Emma quickly glanced to Anne to see how she was taking the news. Room for four meant there were two girls with them—one for Josh and one for Rick.

Anne had stopped chewing.

Crushing on Knight or not, Emma was annoyed he'd brought up Rick going out with someone else without realizing the effect it would have on Anne. Didn't Knight have a clue about anything? About Anne's feelings? About her own?

"I'll be right back," Anne mumbled, shuffling away.

Emma was torn before wanting to follow Anne to see if she was okay and wanting to make Knight see, once and for all, that they were meant to be together. Even now, watching him, she wanted to be next to him. Close to him. They were often like that. Her head on his shoulder. His arm around her waist. But the thought of it now that she knew her true feelings sent a flush through her body.

"Want some?" Knight asked, gesturing toward the chicken.

Be brave, she thought to herself. Emma nodded and leaned closer, then opened her mouth and waited.

Knight dropped his fork. Blinking quickly, his eyes on her mouth, he licked his lips then looked away and cleared his throat.

Emma waited patiently. Each beat of her heart felt like an eternity as she waited for Knight to turn back and look at her. He studied her face then reached out his hand. He cupped her cheek with his palm. As he ran a thumb over her bottom lip, a hum lit up her insides. Her breath came in short, quick spurts.

"You're not wearing lipstick," he said.

"Do I need to?" She leaned into his hand as his thumb caressed her cheek.

"No."

This is where she should tell him. Knight was looking at her, really looking at her, in a way he never had before. She could see the signs of desire, the tightness of his throat, the way his dark eyes fixated on her mouth. But desire was easy. She'd probably always had that from Knight. But now he wasn't dismissing it, and she needed to make sure he never dismissed her again.

"Knight—"

He pulled away. "What's going on with you, Emma?"

Why did he have to say it like that? YOU, she wanted to scream. You are what is going on with me!

"It's like I don't even know you anymore," he said.

Emma took a shuddered breath and felt her belly contract coldly. "You do know me."

"I thought I did. But this weekend? You're hot and cold. Nice and mean. And now this?"

"You think I look bad?"

"No! Emma, God. I'd never— There's no way. It's not about that, but if there's something you want to say, if there's something you want to tell me. Just. Tell. Me."

The words were there at the tip of her tongue: I love you.

That should be simple.

But Knight was looking at her, confused, and what if he just became even more confused? What if confusion turned to disgust? She could barely handle the disappointment of him not liking how she'd dressed.

Before Emma could say anything, Anne returned to the kitchen. She didn't look like she'd been crying. She didn't seem to notice anything between them. In fact, she took up her spot next to Knight at the counter and dug back into her salad.

When Anne reached for some chicken, Knight picked up his fork to stop her, and they engaged in quick fork fight, using them like swords.

Emma watched the scene unfold, that coldness in her belly turning bitter. Knight was being nice to Anne. Really nice to Anne. Well, everyone was nice to Anne. But there was nice and there was nice.

"Let's dine alfresco," Emma said. "It's gorgeous outside, and the sun is setting." Maybe if they moved outside, Knight wouldn't be leaning over the counter so the side of his body pressed up against Anne's and their shoulders rubbed together. Her kitchen island was the size of Manhattan; they didn't need to be falling all over each other.

 

* * *

 

Emma had never had the misfortune of trying to eat while she was in love.

Tacos on the beach with Josh simply hadn't counted. That had been easy, exhilarating, and fun. But now she realized that had been the sensation of fame, of riding her first motorcycle, of sneaking out. It had nothing to do with the man himself. Whereas eating with Knight, now, was absolute torture.

Chewing felt self-conscious. She was aware of every crunch, worried something might be caught in her teeth, or worse yet made its way to her cheek. Anne and Knight easily chatted about the people who had come to the adoption event. Had Anne noticed how that balding man and the pit bull he chose had the exact same facial expression? Had Knight seen the Chihuahua who managed to pull along her beanpole of a new mom? Every one of Emma's witty thoughts and observations came too late, so she mainly sat in silence, chewing, then wondering whether she was chewing too loudly.

If you want to tell me something, just tell me.

What could she tell him…and how? She couldn't say it first. She couldn't be the one. What if she ruined everything? She'd simply have to make him say it first. She'd have to make Knight realize how much he loved her so he declared it. But how?

It wasn't as if Knight had done anything in particular to make her realize she loved him. It had felt rather like light switch flicking on. But now, as she thought back on their relationship, it all seemed so obvious. He had never been far from her thoughts. He must feel the same way about her.

She just needed to make him see it. Remind him how fun and fantastic she was to be around.

Emma set down her fork and walked to the edge of the pool.

"Emma?" Anne asked uncertainly.

Emma tossed a devilish smile over her shoulder. Before she could lose her nerve, she unbuttoned and kicked off her jeans and peeled her sweatshirt over her head. She was wearing a simple, matching baby-blue full-coverage bra and hipster bikini briefs—way more coverage than her bikini afforded her—but she felt absolutely daring.

With a stolen glance at Knight's shocked face, she turned and dove into the pool. She surfaced and tread water. "Join me?" she asked.

Anne stared at her, slack-jawed. "I guess but…I should change. Unless…" She shook her head. "Actually, I'm okay without a swim."

Emma turned a flirtatious eye to Knight. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Then abruptly stood. "I'm still hungry for dessert." Then he practically jogged back to the kitchen.

Despite the sun and her heated pool, goose bumps rose up Emma's arms and neck. A frigid chill shot down her spine. She climbed out of the pool, her face red with embarrassment. Anne was standing by the ladder to hand her a towel.

"Are you feeling okay?" Anne asked. "You look a little feverish. I could run to the drugstore to get you something."

Emma's teeth chattered as she wrapped the plush blanket around her body. She pulled the sweatshirt back over her head but couldn't get the jeans up her wet calves, so she tossed them aside and wrapped the towel around her waist.

She could see Knight standing at her kitchen island, staring dumbly at the floor. It would be so much easier to lie and say she was sick, that she was running a fever. That would explain her draggy appearance and her sudden need to cool off in the pool. This weekend could become a blip on the radar of impulsive Emma behavior.

But as she watched Knight, she knew she couldn't go back to the way things were. Knight rested his fists against the island and seemed to be clenching them as he leaned forward.

If he wanted dessert then she'd give him dessert.

"Emma?" Anne prodded. She rested her hand against Emma's forehead.

"I'm fine," Emma insisted, tugging Anne's wrist away. "I think I just need something sweet to eat, too." She stalked back inside the kitchen with Anne in tow.

Knight jumped back from the island as she threw open the French doors. Emma marched past him and opened the fridge.

"What shall we eat?" she asked.

Anne and Knight joined her, arms and feet crossed, contemplative frowns on their faces.

"Brownies?" Knight suggested.

Anne rubbed her stomach. "Totally not in the mood for chocolate."

"How about banana cream pie?" he asked.

Emma sighed. "Not quite what I want."

"You two are welcome to come up with your own ideas for me to naysay."

"I know what." Emma shut the fridge door and pulled open the freezer. "Ice cream. Just the thing for being in the heat all day."

They pulled out tubs of vanilla, chocolate, and cookies and cream. Emma ran through the pantry to find chocolate sauce and stemmed maraschino cherries. Knight went back into the fridge for whipped cream. Anne pulled ice cream dishes from the cupboard, and they made an ice cream sundae buffet across the length of the island.

Emma rubbed her hands together. Yes, this was what she wanted.

They dug in, and for a few moments, the only sound was their spoons clinking against their ice cream bowls. Then Emma noticed that Anne was not just quiet. It wasn't unusual for Anne to be quiet, but Anne was also completely still. Her cheeks were puffed, her lips pursed, her brow furrowed in concentration.

"Anne, are you okay?"

Anne nodded but didn't answer.

Emma set down her bowl and rose up on her toes. "Are you choking? Anne?" She took a step forward. Knight's hand held her still at her shoulder.

"Nothing's wrong," Knight said, patting her on the back before leaning against the island. "Can't you see what she's trying to do?"

Emma looked at Anne. She didn't look like she was choking. Her color was normal. She wasn't gasping for breath. But she kept her lips pursed, her forehead crinkled. Then a wide grin broke out on her face. She reached her fingers into her mouth and fished out something that she held over her head in triumph.

"Ha! Got it!"

Knight slow-clapped and then whistled.

Emma, confused, peered closer at Anne's fingers. Between her thumb and forefinger, she held a cherry stem, tied into a little knot.

"Hot, Anne. Real hot," Knight said.

"I've always wanted to try that." Anne tossed the cherry stem beside her bowl. "You try it, Emma. It's not that hard."

But Emma couldn't try it—not now. It was an old trick now. Not new and novel and fun, which is what it would have to be for her to try it. And how is it that Anne beat her to being new and fun and hot. Had the universe upended?

"What's the matter, Greene?" Knight taunted. "Not up for it?"

Emma's cheeks flushed. "I'm not in the mood."

"Ah, well, that was something special, Anne."

Emma didn't think it was possible for ice cream to stick in your throat but it did, as hard as a rock and as scratchy as asphalt. She tried another spoonful because she needed something sweet to sooth the bitterness that had taken root at the back of her teeth. A subtle ache pulsed through her as Knight grinned at Anne.

How awful that something as wonderful as liking someone, how a feeling supposedly as pure as love, could turn a person dark.

She looked away from Knight to Anne and stopped short.

Anne was smiling at Knight, her face lit up, and even while Emma felt those bitter seeds at the back of her throat, she felt something else…. Anne looked happy and carefree. But instead of feeling happy for her friend, Emma felt uneasy.

Didn't she want Anne to be happy? Wasn't that the whole point of this weekend? Maybe it hadn't come from setting her up with Josh, but Knight was making Anne feel good. Emma had wanted to be the one to put that smile on Anne's face; she had wanted the credit and the glory.

But now that the moment was here, it wasn't that she needed credit. It wasn't about that anymore. This was Anne's weekend. This was Anne's turn to be happy.

But as Knight and Anne continued to grin at each other, Emma felt that maybe she'd paid an unfair price for her friend's happiness. She couldn't stand here anymore and watch Knight look at Anne with that special, tender look that was supposed to be directed at Emma. But she also couldn't bear to pull the attention back to herself. She had too much pride to beg for Knight's attention, and she didn't want to hurt Anne the same way she'd hurt that girl at the taco shop.

It seemed that the easiest thing to do would be to leave, but that felt like quitting. She wasn't ready to quit on Knight. She couldn't. He was her best friend.

They heard the front door open with a click—Josh and Rick returning from their ride. She saw an out, and coward she was, she took it. "You two hang out in here," she said. "I'm going to take some ice cream to the guys. Come on, last chance to scoop another round."

Knight gave her a questioning frown as she gathered the tubs of ice cream on a tray and left the room.

 

* * *

 

The pool house was Emma's least favorite place in the house, which was why she had given it to the boys for the weekend. The decor was a nice enough nautical theme with blue-and-white striped paint, slate-gray paintings of skippers and ships, but no matter where you were in the studio, you could not escape the sharp smell of chlorine from the pool.

It didn't seem to bother Rick, who Emma could see through the clear sliding glass door from where she stood poolside. He was wrapped in a blanket in the far corner of the white tatami mat, totally knocked out.

"Did he even brush his teeth?" Emma asked as she set down the ice cream on the round patio table where Josh was sitting with a pile of papers and what looked like a script on his lap.

"Yeah. He can pass out stone-cold sober." Josh shrugged. "Military and all that."

"Ice cream?" Emma pulled up the chair across from him.

"No, thanks." Josh shook his head and patted his stomach. "Filming over the summer."

"Which movie?"

"Haven't picked it yet." Josh grinned. "I have a few offers. The usual hot guy on the sideline stuff but a few great scripts. Plus an Anderson! Don't get me wrong, it's half a line in a bit part but I'd give my left nut for it. My agent thinks I have a shot, but I want to make sure I get the whole script, the whole vision. You know what I mean?"

"Sure, sure I do. That's so great." Emma let out a breath. Josh had dumped her for fame, but now she realized it was more than fame. It was his lifeblood. He loved acting. It made him who he was. It wasn't that he didn't choose her; he had just chosen himself. "I'm happy for you, Josh."

"I think you actually mean that, Emma."

"I always mean it when I'm happy for my friends."

"Are we friends now?" Josh set the script down on the table and crossed his arms. "I know I've gotten in with the other girls, but I'm still not sure about you."

She dug deep, searching for any remaining bitterness toward Josh. For any lingering sadness over their breakup. For any heartache. And when she realized there was none, her mood lightened, as did her smile. "You and I are doing just fine."

He reached his hand across the table, and she shook it. "Glad to hear it, Greene."

Emma was relieved she'd finally, somehow, gotten over her issues with Josh. Just in time, too, because she had other issues she could barely handle. At least sitting out here with Josh she felt at ease, unlike being with Knight right now. She attacked one of the ice cream tubs with a spoon. "How was the drive?"

"Not bad. One of the scripts is for a race car driver so I wanted to get behind one of the cars, get the feel of it."

"Having two girls in the car probably didn't hurt."

Josh grinned. "Whatever helps the character. Rick was kind of a downer, though. Terrible wingman."

"How so?"

"Naw, no. That's not happening." Josh glanced back over his shoulder through the sliding glass door to Rick's sleeping form. "I'm not going to give you girls any more ammunition against Rick. You guys already talk trash all over him. And for what? Getting dumped? You would be all over me if we pulled the same crap with you."

Emma resisted the tart retort at her lips. Instead, she held up her hands, fingers spread wide. "Fair enough. Consider me Switzerland. No more agenda regarding Rick."

"Good. Let's do you instead. How was your night?"

A total failure, so far, in securing Knight's affections. Going natural hadn't worked. Being wild and daring hadn't worked. What else was there to do?

When she didn't answer, Josh let out a whistle. "That bad, huh?"

"How do you know it was bad?"

"Because you always have something to say when life is good. You don't really talk about the bad stuff."

"Yes, I do."

"No, you don't." Josh leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Things are always fun and exciting and so fab." His impression of her was dead-on, although she wasn't sure that spoke to him as a great actor or to her as a caricature. "I've been thinking about you a lot, Emma."

"Ha, what I would have given to hear that from you a few months ago."

"What can I say? I'm a heartbreaker. But stay with me, Emma. I have been thinking about you. Just as a character study, you know? Trying to figure out what makes you tick."

"That warrants a thank-you from you when you accept your first Oscar."

"I'll put you at the end of a long list."

"What did you figure out then? That all this—" Emma gestured toward her face and body "—is a magic that can't be figured out?"

"No. Actually, I think you're really insecure."

"What? Me? Huh?" Emma's mouth dropped open, and she immediately scooped another round of ice cream. "I am, without a doubt, the most confident person you know. I am beautiful and blessed and smart and fun and popular and—"

"I get it, I get it. But that's not what's really happening. You might believe these things about yourself, but you say them, over and over, so other people will believe them. You think that if you're not fun, for even one moment, people will stop liking you. Or if you make it hard for people to like you, they'll leave. You think people only like fun, sexy, awesome Emma. Don't get me wrong—" he held out his hand to stop her protest "—everyone does like fun, sexy, awesome Emma. But you think that if you stop being amazing, just for one moment, that people will walk away."

He stood up and took two steps back toward the sliding door to the pool house.

Could she do nothing right? Would no one want her? Even being fun, sexy, awesome Emma was driving everyone away. Didn't he see that? "No, wait—"

"Don't freak out, Emma. This isn't me walking away. This is me giving you some time to think. Maybe if you weren't so scared that rocking the boat meant people would run away, you'd actually do yourself the favor of being inconvenient and unpopular, of making things difficult for your friends instead of so easy. Maybe you'd actually go for what you really want instead of letting it slip away."