Janie folded her arms across her chest. “That’s ridiculous. This doesn’t have anything to do with high school.” As soon as she said the words, she started to doubt the truth of them. Because there was a certain thrill to being with Emmett that had everything to do with so many years of unrequited love.
“Does he even know about high school?” Mallory asked. “Does he know you wrote the note?”
Janie shook her head. “I thought about telling him, but . . . I don’t know. It seems silly now.”
“It’s not silly. It’s important. And you should tell him. And then you should start asking yourself some adult questions about your relationship. Does it concern you that he laughed at your letter? I know it was a long time ago, but I kinda feel like that says something about his character and I don’t like that you’re giving him a free pass.” Mallory pulled a hair tie off her night stand and piled her hair on top of her head. “Also, I know you’re impressed that he has a law degree, but it’s a pretty huge red flag for me. It screams lack of commitment that he’s not willing to take the bar exam. And that makes me think there’s all kinds of messed up crap going on in his family.”
Janie pulled a pillow from the foot of Mallory’s bed onto her lap. She squeezed it tight, willing herself to swallow the defensive responses she felt like throwing back at her sister. It wasn’t the time or place. Especially when her words rang with an annoying level of truth.
“If you’re wading into that,” Mallory continued, “you at least need to do it with your eyes open. You have to get over the twitterpation and start approaching this like the logical, intelligent human that I know you are.” She huffed. “Now I’m done. Except, also you can’t miss rehearsals because I cannot afford to pay the rent by myself.”
On the bright side, her sister didn’t sound mad anymore. But Mallory’s full force call to attention almost felt worse.
Janie had some serious pondering to do.
Chapter Six
Emmett sat on his living room balcony after work and flipped through the pages of his old high school yearbook. He paused at each photo he saw of Janie. Her senior picture looked like a different person. Dark make up around her eyes, her hair dyed black. But there was a photo near the back of her playing her cello with this intense look on her face. That looked like the Janie he knew. His Janie.
“What are you looking at?” Deacon asked. He dropped into the lounge chair across from Emmett and propped his feet up on the table.
“Sure man, come on in. Don’t worry about knocking.”
Deacon smirked. “If you don’t want people walking in, maybe don’t leave your front door unlocked.” He leaned over and looked at the book in Emmett’s hands. “Is that a yearbook?”
“Yep. Senior year.” Emmett pushed the book away, leaning his head back onto his hands. “Long day? You look terrible.”
“Killer,” Deacon said. He ran his hands through his hair, mussing it even more than it already was, which was saying something. “I’ve got this case at work that keeps getting more complicated. And then . . . I don’t know. We had a final meeting with the wedding planner today.”
Emmett looked up, noting true strain in his brother’s voice. “That bad, huh?”
“I swear, if Dahlia doesn’t take out her mother by the end of this weekend, I might do it myself. If Lily hadn’t been there today, we’d have all been throwing punches. Did you pick up the tuxes?”
Emmett nodded. “It’s done. Everybody’s ready to go, except for Evan, who thought they’d hemmed his pants too short, so I guess they’re going to fix it before Saturday. Seriously, Deac. Evan Brinkley? When was the last time you even had a conversation with the guy?”
Deacon sighed heavily. “I know. But Dahlia has twelve bridesmaids and I guess the numbers have to be even.”
“But, Evan? It’s like you picked the most annoying guy in all of Charleston County.”
“It was either him or Uncle Chester.”
“I’d have gone with Chester, hands down. At least he’d be good for a laugh. Numbers have to be even, ties have to be a perfect cerulean blue, the cake has to be a perfect blend of fruity citrus with flowery undertones,” Emmett said, sarcasm lacing his words. “Your fiancée’s crazy, you know that, right?”
Deacon grinned. “She’s Charleston royalty. A Ravenel wedding is about a lot more than just what the bride wants and we both know it.” He stood up. “I’m getting a drink. You want something?”
Emmett nodded. “Sure. Whatever you’re having.”
“Who’s that?” Deacon asked, looking over his shoulder as he stood. “She looks . . . intense.”
The yearbook still lay open to the photo of Janie with her cello. “Her name is Janie Middleton. Do you remember her? She was in my grade.”
“She maybe looks familiar,” Deacon said. “Is that the girl you’ve been dating?”
“Yeah. It’s been a couple months now.”
“Well done. You bringing her to the wedding?”
“She’s playing the wedding,” Emmett said. “She’s in the quartet.”
“Well that’ll never do, Emmett,” Deacon said, his voice a perfect mockery of their mother. “You can’t date the hired help.”
“She’s a musician. It’s not the same thing.” Emmett didn’t really need to defend himself to his brother. Deacon looked the part, sure, but he didn’t hold his Charleston social standing to quite the same level of importance their parents did. Still, his tolerance only extended so far. He was constantly nagging Emmett about taking the bar already and coming to work with him. He appreciated Emmett’s musical ability but had always been firmly on the “this should be your hobby” side of the argument.
Emmett closed his yearbook and stood to lean against the railing of his balcony. He watched as a shipping barge moved off the ocean and into the harbor. He might complain about his Charleston social standing, but he’d never not love the city itself. Or the view from his third-floor apartment on East Bay Street.
Deacon reappeared, drink in hand, and set another on the table for Emmett. “Tell me about her,” he said. “What’s she like?”
“She’s great,” Emmett said. “Talented, beautiful, smart. And she’s got this quiet confidence about her. You know how some girls seem like they’re trying too hard? She’s not like that.”
“Sounds legit, man,” Deacon said. “Are you in love with her?”
Emmett raised an eyebrow, but Deacon seemed serious about the question, so he gave him a serious answer. “It’s only been a couple months.”
“That’s plenty of time to know. You can at least see it happening, right?”
An image of Janie, blanket wrapped around her shoulders, moonlight reflecting in her eyes, flashed through his mind. “Yeah. I think I can.”
Deacon smiled. “Oo-hoo, my little brother’s got himself a serious girlfriend.”
Emmett rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”
“What does she do?” Deacon tossed back the last of his drink.
“She’s a cellist,” Emmett said.
“Like, for her career?”
Emmett shot his brother a look. Was it so hard to believe someone could make a career out of music? “Yeah. For her career. She plays in the Charleston Symphony.”
“Wow. Fancy.”
“Seriously? What does that even mean?”
“Woah, down boy,” Deacon said. “No need to get defensive. That’s awesome that she plays in the symphony.”
“Then why did you sound so judgmental?”
Deacon held up his hands. “Emmett. Chill. I was not judging her. I’m sure she’s great. And I’m sure playing in the symphony isn’t an easy gig. I’m impressed. That’s all I was saying.”
Emmett dropped back into his chair. Deacon seemed sincere, so why did he feel so defensive? “Sorry, man. I don’t know where that came from.”
Deacon nudged Emmett’s drink a little closer. “Drink that. You seem like you need it.”
They sat in silence a few minut
es, long enough for Emmett to finish his drink. He put the glass on the table and leaned forward. He was tired of pretending. Tired of ignoring the truth of what he wanted. Tired of hiding from his family. Janie was right. If he wanted to make music work, he had to start doing something about it. And that meant telling his family. “Hey, Deacon?”
His brother looked up from his phone. “What’s up?”
“I’m not ever going to take the bar.”
Deacon put down his phone but didn’t respond.
“It’s not what I want and I’m not changing my mind.”
His brother scrubbed a hand across his face. “Yeah, I think I saw that one coming. What are you going to do instead?”
“I’m going to try and make the music thing work. Janie’s helping. She knows some people in Nashville, so . . . I have to try.”
Deacon nodded his head. “Look. I’m all in, all right? I’ll even back you up when you tell Mom and Dad. But so help me, if you breathe a word of this before the wedding this weekend? I’ll never speak to you again.”
“Deal,” Emmett said. He stood and slapped his brother on the back before moving inside. “I’m going for a run.”
“Hey, I’m meeting Dahlia and Lily in an hour,” his brother called to his retreating form. “You care if I just chill here until then?”
“Yeah, whatever,” Emmett said. He was only half dressed when his brother yelled at him, calling him back to the living room balcony.
“Hey, Emmett? You left yet?”
Emmett pulled on his gym shorts and walked, bare chested, back to where Deacon stood, looking over the balcony and down into the street. He followed his gaze to find Janie standing on East Bay, looking up at the balcony, her hands perched on her hips.
Her face lit up when she saw him. “Hey.”
Emmett smiled. “Hey. What are you doing here?”
“Oh, you know. I was in the neighborhood.”
Emmett looked from Janie to Deacon. “I guess you met my brother, Deacon.”
“I did,” Janie said. “Congrats on the wedding.”
Thanks,” Deacon said. “I appreciate it.”
“You want to come up?” Emmett asked.
“Actually, do you want to come down? I was hoping we could go for a walk.”
He’d gladly forgo exercise for time spent with Janie. “Sure. Give me a minute to change, then I’ll be right down.”
He glanced at his brother on his way to his room. “Please don’t say anything stupid,” he whispered to Deacon.
“Come on, little brother,” Deacon said with a grin. “What could I possibly say about you?”
Chapter Seven
Janie waited for Emmett, her nerves making her feel lightheaded and a little nauseous. She’d spent three days thinking about what Mallory had said. Three days keeping Emmett at a distance, claiming busyness and a need to fix things with her sister after her serious misstep Monday night. When she saw Emmett emerge from the front of his building, her heart did a little flutter thing and heat rushed to her cheeks. How was she going to get through this?
Not everything that Mallory had said was true. Janie wasn’t concerned about Emmett’s career. She really did believe in his music and understood the risks associated with doing something different than what your family wanted. But Mal had been right about Janie living with her head in the clouds. Missing rehearsals was so far outside of her normal. Even the symphony concert she’d played last week had been rough. She’d struggled her way through and suffered for her lack of practice. Her brain had been all Emmett, all the time. And that had to change.
Emmett was no longer shirtless, which was both a relief and a disappointment. She’d have never been able to focus on their conversation otherwise, but then, focusing on the rest of him didn’t seem like such a bad way to spend the afternoon.
He stopped in front of her, and with a hint of sheepishness she found unendingly endearing, leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. “Hey,” he said, the lilt of his soft southern accent more prominent than usual.
“Hi. You sound more Southern than you usually do. Is that Deacon’s influence?”
Emmett’s eyebrows rose. “Do I? I don’t know. Maybe it is Deacon. He’s always sounded more southern than me.”
“Says the guy who sings country music.”
“Yeah, but Charleston Southern is a whole different animal than Nashville Southern.”
“Tell me about it,” Janie said. “I chose Vanderbilt because it was in Nashville and I thought it would feel like home. It was great, but it wasn’t Charleston.”
“No place is,” Emmett said. “I couldn’t get back here fast enough.”
They headed down East Bay toward Waterfront Park. “This is a nice surprise,” Emmett said. “I was afraid I wasn’t going to see you until the wedding.”
“Actually, about that,” Janie said.
Emmett stopped in his tracks, concern etched into his features.
“Here, let’s sit.” Janie led him to a bench underneath the sprawl of a live oak. She held her hands in her lap, knowing if she were touching him, it would be harder to say everything she needed to say.
“What’s going on?” Emmett asked.
“I’m not going to be at the wedding,” Janie said. “My friend, Leslie, is an excellent cellist. She’s covering for me with the quartet and I’ve already sent her the music for your song. She’s happy to accompany you.”
“Why? Does this have something to do with Monday night? Is Mallory still mad?”
“No, she’s not mad, but I guess it does have to do with Monday.” Janie had rehearsed what she wanted to say, gone over it in her mind a hundred times. She had to dive in before she lost control. “I have something I need to tell you.”
“Okay,” he said.
It killed her to see the confusion in his eyes. She looked down at her hands. “Back in high school, right before you graduated, you got a note in your locker.” Janie’s heart pounded so hard, she worried Emmett might see the pulsing right through her skin. “It was from a girl.” She swallowed. “And it told you all the reasons why she was in love with you.” She finally looked up to meet Emmett’s gaze.
“That was you?” he said softly.
Janie nodded. “I thought by mentioning biology lab, you’d realize it was me.”
“I didn’t,” Emmett said quickly. “I had no idea.”
“Mallory told me what you did. How you read it at a party. How you . . . laughed at it.”
“Janie, had I known . . .” He shook his head. “Regardless, I shouldn’t have—”
“I know,” Janie said, cutting him off. “You don’t have to explain. It was a long time ago, and I’m not telling you because I feel like you owe me an apology. I just need you to see why I need to take a step back for a little while.”
Emmett leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I don’t understand.”
“Emmett, you were all I thought about for three years of high school. I built you up into some kind of fantasy, and then when you reappeared out of nowhere and you were actually into me, it’s like my high school self was finally getting what she’d always dreamed of. It didn’t even feel real.”
“I’m still not following.” His voice was tense, even a little shaky. “We’re not in high school anymore. And this has all felt pretty real to me.”
“You have to understand what high school was like for me. I wasn’t the girl people noticed. I didn’t turn heads. Guys didn’t flirt with me or even see me, really. It’s like I was watching life from the sidelines.”
“Watching Mallory’s life from the sidelines.”
Janie winced. He hadn’t said anything that wasn’t the truth, but it still stung to hear the words out loud.
“Yeah, I guess so. And now, it’s switched. I’m the one with the boyfriend, and she’s watching me. I feel like I need to figure out whether or not what I’m feeling is based on the time you and I have spent together now, in the present, or whether I’m clinging to the pas
t because it feels so amazing to finally have Mallory jealous of me.”
He ran a hand across his jaw. “Wow.”
The hurt was so evident in his voice, it nearly made Janie cry. But she couldn’t lose her nerve. “I know that sounds awful. And I don’t want to hurt you. I do care about you. I know that much. But Emmett, I’m not the girl who flakes and forgets important things. I don’t forget to return phone calls. I don’t ignore calls from my Dad. And yet, this past month, I’ve done all of that. I’m not playing my cello. I’m ignoring my sister. It’s like I don’t even know how to approach the relationship normally because I was in love with you before we’d even kissed for the first time.”
She almost tripped on the word love. To say it out loud felt bold and crazy and painful. Especially since she was telling Emmett she needed to walk away. “I think I fast tracked my feelings for you because they were bolstered by three years of longing. I just need to take a minute and . . . refocus. Separate the past from the present. Figure out if this is even what I want right now. If this,” she motioned between them, “is even real.”
Emmett tensed, his lips stretched in a firm line. There were things he wanted to say, she could tell. But he only grunted before saying, “And in the meantime?”
Janie wished he would say more. Disagree with her. Convince her she already knew it was real. “I don’t know. I’m not saying I don’t ever want to see you again. I’m just saying I need some time.”
Emmett sat silent for a long moment, his eyes staring out into the harbor. Finally, without even looking at Janie, he stood. “I gotta go.”
“Emmett, wait,” Janie called.
But he didn’t stop.
He didn’t even look back.
Chapter Eight
Saturday morning, Emmett stood in his bedroom and adjusted his bowtie. It was a great suit—light gray, cut just the way he liked it. And the cerulean blue bowtie wasn’t half bad. He grabbed his guitar, his stomach tightening at the thought of playing it without Janie to accompany him. Three days later, her words still echoed in his mind. I have to decide if this is even real. He wasn’t letting her off that easy. He patted the pocket of his suit coat; he’d show her real.
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