Page 63 of You're The One
“Hey, that still counts,” Emma encourages.
“Maybe you should join our book club.” His voice is light, but there’s something behind it. “I bet Hannah would love that.”
“Maybe.”
He smiles into his glass. Emma sips her wine, then glances between us before asking, almost cautiously, “This has been good for you guys, right? I mean, you seem like… friends… now?”
The pause after “friends” hangs in the air, like she’s not quite sure what to make of us.
Neither am I.
I keep my eyes on the flickering candlelight reflecting off my water glass. “Yeah. We get along.”
Dom doesn’t say anything, but I can feel his gaze on me.
Emma’s eyes ping-pong between us. I think she’s going to let it go, but she surprises me.
“Just friends?”
She steels herself with another sip of wine.
“Forgive my bluntness.” She turns to Dom, resting her hand over his on the table. “I’m developingrealfeelings, Dominic. And maybe it’s naive, but I thought there wasn’t anything romantic between you two.”
Remember when I said I wasn’t sure about Emma’s feelings? Yeah… I was wrong. They’re pretty clear.
Her gaze flicks back to me. “Saying that out loud feels kind of foolish now. Because there’s something here. Even a blind man could see it.”
She gives a small, nervous laugh and keeps going, like she’s trying to outrun her own vulnerability—Brené Brown would be proud.“And that’s fair. I know you’re dating other women. I know how this works. This is silly. I’m sorry.”
Her voice wavers at the edges, and I’m worried she might cry.
Dom’s mouth hangs slightly open, clearly not sure how to react. Whether it’s the question or the emotion behind it that caught him off guard, I can’t tell.
He’s usually so perfectly put together, so it’s strange to see him stumbling. But it’s not my place to reassurehis girlfriend.
Ugh, how did I end up here? Oh, right, thanks a lot, Summer.
I look down at my glass, pretending to study the condensation, giving them the illusion of privacy.
My skin feels too tight as the silence stretches.
I give him a minute.
Two.
Long enough to realize he’s frozen and probably not going to offer any kind of explanation in the next sixty seconds either.
“We’re just friends,” I assure her.
“Mia.” Dom’s voice is low, jaw tight. “We should talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about, Dominic.” I meet his eye with a challenge of my own. “Tell her. Tell her we’re just friends.”
His jaw ticks.
“I can’t,” he says through clenched teeth.
“I’m sorry,” Emma interrupts. “I didn’t mean to make this weird.”
