"He doesn't. Ever."
"Oh, come on. Don't tell me he never forgets to-"
"Never."
"Well, Jesus." Laurel slumped back. "Obsessive much?"
Mac raised her hand, offered a sheepish smile. "I'm just going to say I was kind of that way. Not as-okay, obsessive. I would forget things or leave things at Carter's, and he'd do the same. But that's what started me off that day you're talking about, Em. His jacket, his shaving kit, his whatever, mixed up with my stuff. It wasn't the stuff, it was what it meant. He's here. He's really here, and it's not just sex. It's not just casual. It's real." Mac shrugged, spread her hands. "I panicked. I had this amazing man in love with me, and I was scared. Jack's probably feeling some of that."
"I haven't said anything about love."
"Maybe you should." Parker shifted to tuck up her feet. "It's easier to know how the cards should be played when they're on the table. If he doesn't know what you're feeling, Emma, how can he take those feelings into consideration?"
"I don't want him to take my feelings into consideration. I want him to feel what he feels, be what he is. If he didn't and wasn't, I wouldn't be in love with him in the first place." She sighed and took a sip of wine. "Why did I ever think being in love would be wonderful?"
"It is once you work out the kinks," Mac told her.
"Part of the problem is I already know him so well I pick up on all the little . . ." She huffed out a breath, sipped more wine. "I think I have to stop being so sensitive, and stop romanticizing everything."
"You have to feel what you feel, be what you are."
When Parker tossed her words back at her, Emma blinked. "I guess I do, don't I? And I guess I should probably have an actual conversation with Jack about this."
"I like my economy-sized box of tampons better. It requires no words." Laurel shrugged. "But if you've got to be all mature about it."
"I don't really want to, but I got tired of sulking about halfway through the day. I might as well see how a reasonable conversation works out. Next week, I think. Maybe we both need a little space."
"We should have a man-free, work free night once a month."
"We pretty much do," Mac reminded Laurel.
"But that's because it just happens, which is good. But now that half of us are hooked up with men, we should formalize it. An estrogen revival."
"No men, no work." Emma nodded. "That sounds-"
Parker's phone beeped. She glanced at the display. "Willow Moran, first Saturday in June. Shouldn't take long. Hi, Willow!" she said cheerfully as she rose and stepped out of the room. "No, no problem at all. That's what I'm here for."
"Well, almost no work. And more pizza for me." Laurel took a second slice.
Despite a few interruptions, Emma thought the evening had been just what she'd needed. A little space, a little time with friends. She let herself into her house feeling pleasantly tired. As she started upstairs she went through her schedule for the next few days. She'd barely have time to catch her breath, she realized. And that, too, was just what she needed.
After crossing the room, she picked up the phone she'd deliberately left behind and saw she had a voice mail from Jack. Her spirits took a quick jump. So quick, she told herself to set the phone down again. It couldn't be anything urgent or he'd have called the main house.
It could wait until morning.
And who was she kidding?
She sat on the side of the bed to listen.
Hi. Sorry I missed you. Listen, Del and I are going to work on our further corruption of Carter and drag him to a game on Sunday. I thought I might come by sometime on Saturday. Maybe I can give you a hand. I could return this morning's favor and fix you breakfast before we kidnap Carter. Give me a call when you get a chance. I'm going to work on some drawings for your place, so . . . Thinking about you.
What are you wearing?
It made her laugh. He always could make her laugh, she thought. It was a nice message. Considerate, affectionate, funny.
What else did she want?
Everything, she admitted. She wanted it all.
SHE LET IT WAIT. EMMA TOLD HERSELF SHE WAS JUST TOO BUSY for that mature conversation. May meant a full slate of weddings, bridal showers, and Mother's Day. When she wasn't neck deep in flowers, she was planning the next design.
With her schedule, it simply made more sense for Jack to come to her, when it worked for both of them. She told herself to be grateful she was involved with a man who didn't complain about her working weekends, the long hours-and who could be counted on to lend a hand if he was around.
On a stormy afternoon in May she worked alone. Blessedly. Her ears might have been ringing from the echoes of Tink's and Tiffany's chatter, but now the rolls of thunder, the whoosh of rain and wind soothed.