Page 43 of Save the Date

“I’m not just family. He literally works with my husband. They could expense the whole thing.”

“I know. I’m just…” Emma tried to put her feelings into words without disclosing how often she was still thinking aboutWill. “Trying to find my footing. Once we have the kinks worked out, and we feel more like a proper couple, I’d love for us all to get together.”

“Fine. I’ll wait,” Jackie agreed, before another brilliant idea came to her. “And then we should all go to the Hamptons for a weekend.”

“Maybe,” Emma fibbed. She wanted to make it to the wedding before committing to any group vacations. And she wanted to spend more time with Matt before committing to a wedding.

Eighteen

“I KNOW IT’S PROBABLY TOO EARLY FOR GIFTS,” MATT SAIDas they sat across from each other at a dimly lit cocktail bar that charged eight dollars for mineral-enhanced water. “But I passed by this store on my way here and I thought of you.”

He carefully extracted a beautifully wrapped clear gift bag that held a glass container filled with what looked like fancy, light purple salt. Emma panicked that he had assumed she knew how to cook well enough to use artisanal seasoning.

“They’re bath salts. One of my coworkers’ wives is also a therapist and she once told me a warm bath helps her decompress after a hard session.”

Emma felt a grin spread across her face. It was such a thoughtful gift, even if hot baths often gave her eczema. “Thank you. I love it.”

“Really? I wasn’t sure…”

“It’s perfect,” Emma assured him as she wondered if the salts would properly dissolve in lukewarm water so as not to anger her skin.

While other people thought honesty was always the best policy, Emma was a huge proponent of the white lie—why hurtsomeone’s feelings if you didn’t have to? Although this type of thinking had inadvertently led Ryan to believe Emma loved turquoise jewelry after he’d randomly gifted her a bright blue necklace early on in their relationship and she’d gushed over it. But if making Matt happy in this moment meant she would one day have a drawer full of unusable bath salts, so be it.

“I think gift giving might be one of my love languages,” Matt admitted. “I love the moment when someone is unwrapping your gift in front of you. It’s the good kind of suspense.”

“My dad is the same way. He’s always surprising my mom with random stuff. Sometimes we’ll be out shopping, she’ll casually mention she likes something and twenty minutes later my dad will reappear with it hidden in a shopping bag from another store just to throw her off. He’ll act like he bought himself something, but we all know it’s really a gift for her.”

“Sounds like my kind of guy.”

“He’s the best. Even if my mom often responds by yelling at him for wasting money.”

Matt laughed. “My mom yells at my dad all the time too. Growing up, I thought it meant they were going to get divorced, but now I realize that’s just her way of communicating. It doesn’t even faze him.”

“Boomers are built differently than the rest of us,” Emma said while holding back a laugh. Her mind had flashed to an earlier text exchange with Will where he had sent a video of him opening yet another box of his mom’s jam. The video had included him trying to stuff the jars into an already full shelf of previously gifted jam. Emma had watched it at least seven times.

“What’s your love language? Or languages?” Matt asked.

Emma didn’t have the heart to tell him the entire love language concept was created by an unlicensed homophobe who wanted women to feel guilty for not sleeping with their “physical touch” husbands more. That lesson could wait for another day.

“I fluctuate. I love quality time and acts of service. But Iprobably rely the most on words of affirmation. Anxious minds love reassurance.”

“Good to know,” Matt said with a wink. It made Emma’s stomach flip. How strange to be out with a man good-looking enough to pull off a nonironic wink.

“What about you? Other than gifts?”

“Probably physical touch. I’m a sucker for a head scratch or shoulder rub.”

“Good thing I have long nails,” Emma replied seductively, which made her realize she was on the cusp of slipping from tipsy to full-on drunk. Exorbitantly priced cocktails were apparently dangerous.

“I did notice that,” he confessed as a slight blush hit his cheeks. “I love the color.”

Matt reached out and let his fingers carefully run up and down one of Emma’s dark purple, almond-shaped nails. Even though it was impossible to really feel his touch through the gel polish, her body responded as though she could. Sure, she didn’t laugh with Matt the way she laughed with Will (or Ryan, or Tony). At least not yet. But they were still getting to know each other. Matt’s gentle, caring nature was more important in the long run than the fact she had yet to snort in his presence.

As his fingers started to make their way up her hand, she instinctively flipped her palm over so it was facing up. This allowed him to gently run his own well-buffed nails up and down the sensitive skin of her forearm. She almost shivered at his touch.

“What does this mean?” Matt asked as he traced the delicate, single-needle, black-ink tattoo that sat directly in between her wrist and elbow. It was so small she often forgot she had it.

“It’s a Hella Lacy flower,” Emma murmured, as he continued to explore a part of her skin that had clearly been underutilized until now. “They’re late-blooming flowers. It’s a reminder that the best is yet to come.”

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