She opened the door, an apology on her lips. That apology died, though, when Emma realized that Mandy and Sophie had brought a guest. She ushered the women into her apartment, staring at her shoes wordlessly as they entered.
They would judge, she told herself. They couldn’t help it. She was used to people judging.
“This is Ally,” Mandy said, introducing the striking brunette she hadn’t met yet. “She’s Finn’s sister.”
Emma’s head snapped up. Finn’s sister? Oh, crap.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Ally said, smiling warmly. “Mandy has told me all about you.”
What was that supposed to mean? “She has?” Emma was worried.
Ally smiled. “Don’t worry. It was all good.”
Emma exhaled nervously. “Oh, okay.”
Sophie handed a grocery bag to Emma. “We brought drinks.”
Emma glanced into the bag, not recognizing the bottles inside. There were a lot of them. “What is this?”
“It’s Skinny Girl margaritas,” Ally replied. “They’re low-fat and awesome. Since they’re low-calorie, though, we need a lot of them.”
“I’ve never had them before,” Emma admitted. “How do you mix them?”
“You just pour them over ice,” Mandy said. “That’s why they’re so easy.”
Emma froze. “I don’t have any ice. I mean, I don’t have an ice machine or anything.”
Ally lifted her left hand, which was holding a plastic bag filled with square, frozen cubes. “We thought ahead.”
Emma smiled, the first real smile she’d mustered all day. “I guess you’ve done this before.”
Mandy patted her shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t worry. You’ll catch on pretty quickly. There’s not much of a learning curve here.”
TWO HOURS later, Emma wondered how she’d ever lived without Skinny Girl margaritas. “These are amazing.”
“They’re good,” Ally agreed. “I’ve tried to make my brothers drink them, but they say they won’t drink chick liquor.”
“Men are stupid,” Sophie said, slurring her words slightly. “If you don’t lead them to the trough, they won’t eat.”
Ally giggled. “Trough? Did you grow up on a farm?”
“No. That’s a saying,” Sophie said. “One of my co-workers always says it. He’s from Armada or something. He always says weird things like that.”
“Do you like being a reporter?” Emma asked, stretching her legs out in front of her. Everyone was sitting on the floor around her small coffee table. And, while Emma had initially worried about the lack of seating in her apartment, the drinks had eradicated her fear.
“Yeah,” Sophie said. “I really like it. I like to get in people’s faces.”
“Does it pay well?”
“Not at all.”
“That’s too bad.”
Sophie shrugged. “I get by. I have a trust fund from when my parents died. I try not to dip into it too often, though, in case I need it down the road.”
Emma was horrified. “Oh, God, your parents died? That’s awful.”
“It was a long time ago,” Sophie said. “I don’t even really remember them. I don’t even have a picture of them.”
Emma glanced up at the frame on her dresser, Mandy following her gaze. Mandy got to her feet and shuffled over so she could get a better look at the photograph. “Is this your mother?”
“Yeah. It’s the only picture I have of her.”
“She’s pretty,” Mandy said. “You look like her.”
“She left when my dad was charged,” Emma said. “I don’t even know why I keep the photo.”
“That’s sad,” Ally said. “You don’t talk to her?”
Emma bit her lip, unsure of what Mandy had told Ally.
“It’s okay,” Ally said. “I know about your family. You don’t have any reason to be ashamed.”
“I have every reason to be ashamed,” Emma bit back.
Mandy returned the frame to the dresser and moved back toward the group. “Why do you think that?”
“My father raped and abused more than fifty boys,” Emma said. “What am I supposed to think?”
“Yeah, but you didn’t do that, Emma,” Mandy argued. “Why do you blame yourself?”
“Who else am I supposed to blame?”
“Your father,” Sophie said. “He was the bad man. You were a kid.”
“I was a teenager at some point,” Emma countered. “I should have known what he was doing.”
“Why? Did he do it in front of you?” Ally prodded.