“You could do it with me.”

She smiles wistfully. “I could…”

“But you won’t,” I determine, sounding dejected.

“You don’t have to look at me like that, with all that pity. I’m fine with my life. Happy, even. And I support you in your rebellion. Fight the good fight, Emmett. I’ll wholeheartedly cheer you on—from afar, that is. Are you staying in Boston long?”

“Longer than expected.”

“Oh.”

She doesn’t look too happy about the news.

“Eager to be rid of me?”

She swallows, and I watch every delicate muscle move in her neck.

“No. Of course not. I see no harm in the two of us being friends. I’m off the market, and you are…” She has to think it over for a moment before smiling. “Never going to be on the market. It’s perfect. Now, let’s look at some art, shall we?”

I extend my arm for her to take, she places her hand lightly in the crook of my elbow, and then we walk back into the main gallery, two friends.

Chapter Fourteen

Lainey

Emmett and I might have agreed on a friendship, but after his visit to the gallery, I don’t see him for two weeks. I hate that I know it’s been two weeks. In fact, it’s been a little over two weeks if I count to the exact day. I’ve been trying not to. There’s a certain ease to life if you’re careful not to open any tempting doors or fall too deeply into hypothetical thoughts. Since graduating from college and moving in with my grandmother, I’ve been careful to tame the wildness inside me. I don’t want to be anything like my mother, which means I should listen to my grandmother, let her guide me through life, keep things simple and comfortable.

After Emmett’s visit, my life continued on as if he weren’t in Boston. One night, I joined a group of forced acquaintances for an early dinner; I worked my usual shifts at Morgan’s; I volunteered at the YMCA, teaching art classes to children; I slipped into a designer dress and accompanied my grandmother to the Boston Ballet. We watched My Obsession, a collection of four ballets that explore the devotion and passion of lovers. I could barely sit still as I watched the dancers move on stage, their sinewy muscles so provocatively on display in their nude-colored costumes. I’m almost surprised my grandmother allowed me to stay through the entire performance. I could tell she hated it, that prim and proper look of disapproval likely to stay put for a full twenty-four hours.

I, however, loved it. I would have sat through it all over again as soon as it finished. More, more, more. I stood with the rest of the audience to give a round of applause, and after, as guests started to trail toward the theater exits, I looked down from the box we were perched in and froze. Emmett was there in the crowd, walking with a blonde woman. She looked pretty in her fitted navy dress. Her long curly hair tumbled down her back. They seemed, if not officially a couple, definitely headed in that direction. He dropped his hand to the small of her back to lead her through the sea of people, and I fought against my throat closing tight, emotion fighting to surface.