The result? Definitely buzzed and on her way to slightly drunk, at least if she kept up this pace. Charlie took a seat next to Kyra. Dusk was settling down on their little gathering, but Emma could still make out Charlie’s face across the fire. She looked uncertain. Nervous. Hesitant.
Good. She should.
Emma grimaced as soon as the words flew through her head. They weren’t her. They weren’t the kind of person she was…or wanted to be. No, Emma Catherine Grier was not a mean-spirited person. She didn’t believe in deserves. Nobody deserved to have bad things happen to them, no matter what. Everybody was human. Everybody did things they shouldn’t have. Everybody made choices they’d go back and change if they could.
Charlie met her eyes and their gazes held.
Did Charlie have regrets?
The question had tortured Emma for way too long. Months. Years. Hell, still. She still wondered.
Pulling her focus away, she glanced down at her empty glass, then found the wine bottle on the small plastic table between her chair and Dani’s. Refilled.
The mood was warm. Friendly. A quieter gathering, a wind down. Levi had the fire blazing and it was throwing off almost too much heat on the warm evening. Emma moved her chair back a few inches, and Levi tossed her a lopsided grin that said oops.
“Okay, gang.” Amber appeared then, carrying a tray filled with small paper plates. On each plate was a slice of chocolate peanut butter pie. “Charlie was nice enough to bring this pie, and I was ungrateful enough to put it in my refrigerator and forget about it. So here. Eat.” She walked around and each person took a plate. She set the tray aside. “Well.” Amber didn’t so much sit as drop into the one open chair left. She blew out a long, loud breath of what sounded like relief, set her pie down, then reached toward the wine bottle near Emma and wiggled her fingers. “Gimme.” She filled her plastic cup, then took a sip, sat back, and smiled wide. “That was fun. Did everybody have a good time?”
Nods and murmurs of agreement went around the circle.
“Nobody leaves here without taking something home. I have enough food left to feed a marching band.”
Darkness had settled, but the fire allowed Emma to clearly see the slice of pie on her plate. It was gorgeous, almost didn’t seem real. Too perfect not to be a plastic version, the kind they use for photo shoots of food.
“Oh my God.” It was Dani and she held her fingers in front of her mouth as she spoke. “This pie is so good. You said Charlie brought it?” Dani looked toward Charlie. “Where did you get it?”
“She made it.” The words were out of Emma’s mouth before she even realized she’d been thinking them, as if her tongue had a mind of its own and no regard for what her brain thought. Why wasn’t it possible to grab them out of the air and stuff them back in? That should be a thing.
“You did?” Dani’s tone of disbelief was a bit over-the-top as far as Emma was concerned, her normally exuberant personality only magnified by alcohol. Across the fire, she could see Charlie’s cheeks redden as she cast her eyes down.
“I did,” Charlie said.
“Charlie’s a master at pies,” Emma said, again wondering how the hell words were being spoken without her permission. “She’s been making them since we were teenagers.”
“Oh,” Kyra said, sitting up straighter. She pointed her fork at Charlie, then Amber, then Emma. “So you all went to school together?”
Dani and Ryan exchanged a look. Emma closed her eyes and silently counted down. Three…two…one…
“Wait a minute, is Charlie the one who…?” Dani stopped midquestion, pressed her lips together.
An awkward silence dropped over the group.
Her past with Charlie wasn’t a subject she talked much about. Her friendships with both Dani and Ryan had only begun since her return to Shaker Falls a few years ago, and it wasn’t like she sat with them over dinner and said, Hey, let me tell you about the girl who shattered my heart into a million pieces because I love reliving that story. She’d given them a bare-bones version—that there had been a girl all through high school and much of college, that she’d left Emma to pursue a career in New York City, that it had hurt. Badly. She never got into just how broken she had been or why or for how long. Amber knew because she’d been around to see it. Emma’s mother knew, as did Charlie’s family. But it wasn’t a subject she brought up and chatted about.
Until now.
Across the fire, Charlie was looking down at her pie, a bite on her fork that didn’t seem like it was going anywhere near her mouth now. “Yeah,” Charlie said quietly as she looked back up and at Dani. “I was the one who.”
“Oh,” Dani said, drawing out the word. “So you live in New York?”
“I…well, I did.” Charlie nodded slowly as she gazed into the fire.
She did? Not she does? Emma’s inebriated brain tried to comprehend the words. She concentrated hard as Amber spoke.
“But you’re home now.” Amber took a bite of pie.
Charlie kept nodding, nibbled the inside of her cheek.
“What made you leave New York?” Dani asked. “It’s such a cool city. If I had a job there, I don’t think I’d leave.” Her eyes went wide and she clamped a hand over her mouth for a moment. With a wrinkled nose, she asked in a small voice, “You didn’t lose a job, did you?”
Even after all these years, Emma still knew Charlie well. She could read her face, take one look and know what she was thinking. And right now, Charlie was feeling frustrated and cornered.
Those things occurred to Emma mere seconds before Charlie blurted, “I did. I lost my job, my home, and my girlfriend. Not necessarily in that order. And now I live in my parents’ basement.”
Silence fell and lasted for a very uncomfortable moment before Charlie took a big breath and said, “Well, that was awkward. And super TMI. Sorry about that.” Then she laughed. It wasn’t a genuine laugh—Emma knew that. But it was Charlie’s attempt to ease the discomfort. “So. How about that pie, you guys?”
Chuckles went around the fire and the mood elevated considerably, the discomfort dissipating. Gradually, but dissipating. Conversation started up again about the pie, the wine, the fire. Emma met Charlie’s gaze across the fire, and Charlie subtly lifted a shoulder as she made a face, and Emma couldn’t decide if it was a half grin or a grimace. Maybe a little of both.
Either way, this was new information. Charlie had apparently come home with her tail between her legs after being dumped. It was excellent news, right? The karma Emma had been waiting for for more than four years, right? Charlie had gotten exactly what Emma was sure she deserved, right? But as she studied her, she noticed things. Mainly that Charlie was playing it off, acting light and breezy, nonchalant, no big deal. But her eyes held much more. They held pain. They held shame. They were sad. Maybe nobody else could see that, but Emma could.
Not that she wanted to. She didn’t. What she wanted was to laugh. To point at Charlie and shout, Ha! I told you that would happen! Serves you right! To be glad that she’d been correct in her predictions. To tell Charlie that’s what she got for leaving behind what they had and barely looking back.
But those eyes.
Those soft, sad hazel eyes.
Emma wanted to feel satisfied. Vindicated.
So how come she didn’t?
* * *
Charlie braced both hands on Amber’s bathroom sink, dropped her head down, and leaned. Added a little rocking in there for good measure. Forced herself to breathe in through her nose, out through her mouth, slowly. Deliberately. Lifting her head so she faced the mirror, she spoke quietly to her reflection.
“Well. That was fun. What the hell were you thinking?” She stared for a beat longer, then washed her hands, dried them, and pulled open the door.
Emma stood there.
“Oh. Hey.”
“Hi.” Emma studied her. She had always done that, looked at Charlie with such an intensity it made her want to squirm. Some things never changed, and Cha
rlie shifted from one foot to the other, uncomfortable.
“Just do it,” she said, not meeting Emma’s eyes. “You might as well.”
“Do what?”
“Say I told you so. It’s got to be killing you not to.”
Emma was quiet, and Charlie braced. After several seconds, Charlie did look at her. Emma’s dark eyes were soft. Kind. Everything about her was. Unexpected, to say the least. “I’ve never wanted you to be unhappy, Charlie.”
Charlie merely tipped her head to one side, eyebrows raised, and Emma chuckled.
“Okay, maybe for a hot minute or two, way, way back.” Charlie joined her in the light laughter and Emma spoke again. “But I’m sorry. That you went through that. I mean…” Emma’s gaze drifted up toward the ceiling, something she’d always done when searching for what she wanted to say. When she brought her eyes back to meet Charlie’s, she shrugged. “I’m sorry you’re hurting is what I’m trying to say.”
“Thanks.”
A second or two passed, and Emma sidled around Charlie so she could use the bathroom. The door clicked shut as Charlie headed for the kitchen to collect her things and call her Uber. It was time to go home.
* * *
Charlie was getting used to staring at the ceiling or out the window as she lay in her basement bedroom. Her cell told her it was nearing one a.m. She was going to be a zombie at work if she didn’t sleep for at least a couple of hours. But her mind wouldn’t shut off. She kept going over the barbecue in her head. The people, the conversations. It had been…surprising.
She liked everybody she’d met for the first time. Ryan Kim was going to give her a golf lesson, and she was looking forward to that. Kyra was fun, somebody Charlie would like to know better. Dani was super high-energy, but entertaining. Levi seemed like a really nice guy, and she loved the way he looked at Amber as if she hung the moon and the sun and was responsible for everything else wonderful in the world. She remembered when she’d looked at Darcy that way.
Had Darcy ever looked at her like that?
Charlie scoffed. “Yeah, right,” she muttered into the night. Showing that kind of love for another person? Darcy would see that as weak, akin to exposing her jugular to an enemy, too vulnerable. If there was one thing Darcy Wells was not, it was weak.
She didn’t want to spend time thinking about Darcy—a glance at her phone made it very clear that Darcy wasn’t spending any time thinking about her—but her mind seemed determined to keep her stuck in that place as it replayed some of the last things they’d said to each other.
“You used to have…I don’t know…spark.” Darcy threw up her hands as she said it. “You were open and exciting and like a sponge, just ready to absorb anything and everything. That’s what drew me to you in the first place.”
Charlie stood there with tears in her eyes, not believing what she was hearing. “Seriously? That’s your excuse for sleeping with somebody else? I wasn’t exciting enough for you?”
“That’s not what I meant.” Darcy sighed as if they’d had this very conversation a hundred times, rather than this being the first and only discussion.
“No? Because that’s sure what it sounded like. How about you explain it to me then?”
And Darcy shut down. Right then and there, Charlie watched it happen, watched any and all emotion leave her face. The walls went up. Doors slammed shut. There would be no explanations, no more conversation. It was over. Charlie knew it in an instant.
“This isn’t working for me anymore. You should be out by the end of the week. I’ll go stay at Tatiana’s.”
Charlie gaped at the casualness of it all. The casual dismissal of four years of her life. The casual use of the name of the woman she was being left for. Tatiana. God, could she have more of a stripper name? The combination of anger and pain that mixed inside Charlie’s body was bitter and awful and the tears spilled over as she watched Darcy pick up her purse, her heels clicking across the hardwood.
“That’s it?” Charlie felt her blood begin to boil. “Seriously? That’s it?”
Darcy turned around one last time with her hand on the doorknob, tipped her head slightly, and gave Charlie a small, sad smile. “Yes. I’m afraid that’s it.” She pulled the door open.
“You know what, Darcy? Fuck you.”
The door shut.
Charlie sighed into the dark of the basement. There was something so horrifically degrading about being dismissed like that. She’d felt worthless. Ashamed. And so incredibly small and insignificant. She had always been pretty strong, a go-getter, someone who knew what she wanted. Trying to figure out what happened to that girl had taken a toll over the past weeks, and she seemed no closer to finding her. In a flash of anger, she picked up her phone again, scrolled to Darcy’s number, and deleted it.
There. That felt better. Sort of. Maybe. A little.
With a shake of her head, she told herself she needed to try and clear her mind, get some sleep. Did her mind listen?
Oh no. Instead, it tossed her an image of Emma at the barbecue. Because apparently, that’s who she needed to think about now. She sighed loudly and flipped onto her side, tucked her hands up under her pillow as she pictured Emma in her jeans and black tank. Her dark hair was pulled back, and Charlie once again noticed how long it was, how much she liked it that way. She looked terrific—not that Emma Grier ever didn’t. She could dress in ratty sweats and a beat-up T-shirt and still look adorably sexy. Charlie knew this from experience, and though time had passed, some things hadn’t changed.
Her eyes, though.
Emma had a great stoic face, but her eyes revealed everything. Charlie knew that if Emma wouldn’t look at her, it was because she was trying to hide the way she felt and knew Charlie would take one look in her eyes and know what that was.
That’s how she knew Emma was being genuine earlier that night, near the bathroom. When she’d said she was sorry Charlie was hurting, she’d looked her in the eyes, and Charlie could see that she meant it.
Those eyes held something else, though. A sadness. A sadness that surprised Charlie. From what that girl who delivered lunch had said, Emma had no shortage of women. The date from last week. The bartender. Seemed like she did okay.
Charlie groaned and shifted positions again, pulled the covers up over her shoulder. Then she did that thing she’d learned in yoga class, where you thought about each body part individually, thought about it melting into the mattress and relaxing, so you could fall asleep. She needed to do that. She needed to sleep.
What she did not need to do was dwell on Emma, who was doing just fine and probably laughed at Charlie all the way home.
But why did her eyes seem so sad?
Chapter Twelve
Charlie used her back to push open the door from the kitchen to the front of The Muffin Top, tray of almond cookies in her hand, and stopped short in surprise.
Emma stood on the other side of the display case talking to Sandy. They both looked up, and for the first time since she’d returned home, Charlie realized that Emma was not looking at her with any hint of disdain or irritation or impatience. She simply smiled in her direction and gave a nod.
“Hey,” Charlie said, sliding the cookies into the display case.
“Emma has requested chocolate peanut butter pie for tonight’s dessert menu,” Sandy said, her smile wide as she waited for Charlie to look up from her task.
She did. In surprise. What was happening? “She has?” She asked the question as if Emma wasn’t standing right there, a small smile on her face.
“I have. I was telling Sandy how good the pie was you brought to Amber’s yesterday. I’d like to offer it for tonight’s dessert at the restaurant. I think it would sell well.” She turned to Sandy. “And I will pay.” When Sandy opened her mouth to protest, Emma held up a hand. “No, if we’re going to do this, I want to do it right.”
Sandy turned to Charlie. “You up for it?”
“For making pie?” She snorted as if that was the sil
liest thing she’d ever heard. “It’s what I do.”
“Awesome. Bring ’em by when they’re ready.” Emma knocked on the counter once, smiled at Charlie again, and left.
What just happened? Charlie wondered. Sandy had a wide smile on her face and looked like she wanted to say something, but there were customers in line, and a timer was going off in the kitchen. Instead, she held out her fist and Charlie bumped it. Then she got to work.
Wanting to mix things up a bit, she decided to make four pies with two different crusts—two with graham cracker crust, and two with an Oreo crust. Sandy sent Bethany out for Oreos, and when she came back, she shyly asked Charlie if she could watch.
“Oh my God, of course,” Charlie said, feeling flattered for some reason. “Chocolate peanut butter pie is actually pretty simple. There’s no baking, just some mixing and some melting.”
“But people love it,” Bethany said.
“They do. It’s the flavor combination. It’s why Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups are the most popular candy at Halloween. I mean, how can you go wrong with chocolate and peanut butter?”
“Right?”
She had Bethany make the Oreo crusts while she took care of the graham crackers, and they pressed each into pans, then put them in the freezer to set while Charlie worked on the filling.
“You can do these two ways,” she explained to Bethany. “You can just have the chocolate crust and then the peanut butter filling, but I like putting a layer of chocolate on top as well. Makes it richer.”
Bethany nodded and watched as Charlie blended a huge bowl of butter, peanut butter, powdered sugar, and vanilla. “Oh my God, that smells so good.”
Charlie grinned as she stopped the mixer, retrieved the crusts, and filled them all. They went into the fridge this time. “Okay. Time for the ganache.”
Bethany made a low sound in her throat that was almost a growl, and it made Charlie laugh.
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