Page 73 of Save the Date

Emma grabbed Will’s arm so he wouldn’t think she was rejecting him. “If we’re going to be together, we should do it the right way.”

Will looked at her, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Well, for starters, I need to break up with Matt. And youshould probably let that graphic designer know that you’re about to marry someone else.”

Will pulled away from her as if he’d been shot. Or flashed by someone he did not want to see naked. “Whoa, Emma. I think there’s been a misunderstanding.”

Emma felt a terrible sinking feeling in her chest. She wondered how many more times she would completely misread someone’s feelings for her before she died. She’d started young, mistaking her kindergarten crush’s valentine as a declaration of love when really his mom had forced him to make one for everyone in the class—including the pet hamster. Thank god no one had paid attention when she idiotically professed her love for him on the playground.

“What exactly did I misunderstand?” Emma said, with a sharp edge to her voice.

Will had the decency to look guilty. “I don’t want you to think I’ve changed my mind about the whole Save My Date thing.”

“Then why did you try to kiss me?”

“Because I like you. And I think you wanted me to.”

“Hold on, you can’t blame this on me. You know how much I care about getting married and following through with my plan. My dad literally paid the final deposit on all the flowerstoday.”

“Andyouknow how much I hate the idea of getting married just so you can have the same elaborate wedding you planned with someone else.”

“I obviously thought you had changed your mind.”

“And I thought you had changed yours. Otherwise, I would never have almost kissed you.”

Emma and Will stared at each other, neither knowing where to go from here. As the remaining drunkenness left Emma’s body, she felt a wave of relief that she hadn’t sacrificed her relationship with Matt for another failed attempt to make it workwith Will. She couldn’t keep doing this to herself. For whatever reason, this J.Crew-wearing, world-traveling, incredibly sarcastic podcast producer seemed to be her new Achilles’ heel. If she wanted to successfully move forward with her life, it wasn’t safe to be around him.

“I don’t think we should be alone together anymore.”

“Okay,” Will agreed.

“Obviously we have to finish the podcast.” The show had been in Apple’s top one hundred since it had come out, making it a runaway hit. Even in her emotional state, Emma knew it would be fiscally and professionally irresponsible to quit in the middle of the season. “But we should record the rest of it in studio. With Anika.”

“That’s a good idea.”

“And we shouldn’t text or call each other anymore. Only email.”

Will nodded.

“And I’m not going to take Laura. Because of what she represents.”

Will seemed confused about this one but Emma knew it wasn’t smart to keep such a fond memento of their time as an almost-couple. She didn’t need a constant reminder of what might have been.

“Whatever you want.”

“It’s not about what Iwant. It’s about what we need to do to finish the show and not ruin my relationship with Matt. Because he’s a great guy. Areallygreat guy.”

“And I’m not a really great guy?”

“Honestly, Will, it doesn’t matter what you are anymore.”

Twenty-Seven

WHEN HER PHONE RANG AT SEVEN FIFTEEN IN THEmorning, Emma was already awake—because she’d never fallen asleep. She’d spent the entire night beating herself up for almost kissing someone who wasn’t her fiancé. The one silver lining of her broken engagement was that everyone agreed she had the moral high ground. It was a nice and noble place to live, and she wasn’t sure if she had to give it up now that she was an almost-cheater. Out of all the agonizing emotions Emma had experienced the past few months, it turned out that guilt was the worst one.

As she reached for her phone and saw an unfamiliar number, Emma debated sending the call to voicemail. But a judgmental voice in her head told her that the least she could do was be nice to a telemarketer now that she was officially a bad person.

“Hello?” Emma croaked. She coughed to clear her morning phlegm.

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