“Well, of course you are. That’s what I’m telling you. You’re the real deal, Sarah, and your mom would be blind not to see that.”
“Now you’re just being nice.”
“I’m rarely nice, and today is not an exception.”
“Well, I respectfully have to disagree.”
There was a noticeable silence then, and Emory did the next thing she knew to do to prolong the exchange. “We should celebrate.” Not her best idea, but it was out of her mouth before she could rationalize it.
“We should?” Sarah answered weakly.
“Let’s go out somewhere.” Alarm bells were sounding, but what the hell. “What about Friday? I have season tickets to the Civic, and I’ve missed the last few shows that have come through town. I don’t know how you feel about theater, but it could be fun.”
There was a slight hesitation before Sarah answered. Emory felt her stomach muscles tighten with—what was that—nerves? She didn’t get nervous. Did she?
“I’d have to get a sitter, but I think my brother could take Grace for the night.”
“Great, give me your address. I’ll pick you up at seven.”
They squared away the details, and Emory congratulated Sarah once again on her great news. She couldn’t have been happier if it had been her own monumental achievement. In fact, she knew inherently this felt better. She hung up the phone and returned it to the counter, excited with the prospect of seeing Sarah, talking to Sarah, and going out with Sarah. The report that she skipped her way to the shower instead of walking was completely exaggerated, and the tale of her singing once she got there was probably just rumor.
*
Four days later, Emory stared at herself in the mirror of the women’s restroom at work, running her fingers through her hair to fluff it just a tad. She was scheduled to pick Sarah up for their celebratory night out in less than thirty minutes, which meant she had little time to spare, knowing traffic on the 805. But damn it, she hadn’t had more than five minutes to master a quick change at the office, and the results were leaving her underwhelmed. She wore an aquamarine dress and simple heels suitable for the theater, a sharp contrast from the no-nonsense navy business suit and white cuffed shirt she’d sported only moments ago. She applied just a tad of lip gloss and turned for the door where she came face-to-face with Lucy.
“Aha. There you are.”
“Very perceptive of you. What do you win?” Emory attempted to sidestep Lucy who, damn it, was blocking the door.
“Not so fast, young lady. You’ve been acting strange today, hyperactive, some might even say, and now you’ve changed into a very flattering, somewhat alluring outfit. Spill.”
“I have a commitment, if you insist on knowing, and I’m late, so if you’d be so kind as to—”
“Commitment? Is that code for sex? Because if we’re using codes now, I need to be updated.”
“Not code for anything.”
“So then it’s business?” Lucy took a step to her left, blocking Emory’s path. “Don’t try that again. I’m a ninja. You know this.”
Emory rolled her eyes.
“Aha. Not business at all.” Lucy studied her, smiling, enjoying this way too much. “You look all excited and dreamy. A date perhaps? Is Emory Owen going on an honest to goodness, butterflies-in-your-stomach date?”
“If I answer your very intrusive question, will you let me leave the restroom without a full-on scuffle? And please don’t forget I’m stronger than you.”
Lucy considered this. “Deal.”
“All right, I’m going to be honest with you.”
“I do prefer it to lies.”
“It might be a date; it might not be. I’m not exactly sure. Good-bye.” She patted Lucy twice on the shoulder and slipped past her, effectively escaping.
Lucy called after her down the hallway. “What does that mean? You’re not even going to give me a name?”
She walked backward, smiling. “You’re good.”
“You’re not off the hook, you know. I’m contractually required to be here Monday, and I know where you work.”
Emory turned and waved backward over her shoulder, offering nothing further.
*
Damn San Diego traffic. She was late again. Emory was beginning to think she was incapable of arriving anywhere on time. Couple that with the fact that Sarah was always early, and Emory internally cringed, secondarily taking note of the fact that it was rare that she cared. Interesting.
She double-checked the address of the apartment complex before pulling in. Her passenger was waiting outside and offered a wave and a very genuine smile as she approached the car.
“I’m so sorry I’m late. The 805 was nightmarish.”
Sarah hopped easily into the passenger seat. “No problem.”
Emory took a moment to catch her breath and took Sarah in. “So, hi.”
“Hi.”
“You look great.” An understatement. Sarah wore a simple off-red cocktail dress. Not too dressy, but just enough. “Ready to celebrate your wild success?”
Sarah grinned like a kid on her way to Disneyland, and Emory’s heart did that thing where it tugged pleasantly. “Please, let’s. I’ve always wanted to go for a night at the theater; I’ve just never gotten around to it. I’ve also always wanted to say ‘night at the theater,’ and now I have. Two birds.”
“Glad to help.”
“I’m glad you invited me.”
“Me too.” Emory stole another indulgent glance at Sarah before turning her attention to the road.
“How was the world of corporate news today?”
“Not too bad a day. We had some press releases go out for some important clients this morning and no glitches that I’ve heard about. But then again, we also had two errors on smaller accounts out of the Denver office. Unfortunately, that’s fairly normal for them. We’re working on their error rate.” She winced apologetically. “This is boring. You were probably just being polite.”
Sarah laughed. “I’ve never once thought of you as boring, you know that? Boring is one thing you can cross off the list of adjectives I use to describe you.”
“There’s a list? Now you tell me.”
“I don’t have to report everything back to you. It’s not like I work for you, you know.”
“Touché.”
Things felt easy between them and Emory relaxed, content to enjoy the evening for whatever it was. She’d be lying if she told herself she hadn’t already noticed how brightly Sarah’s eyes shone when she laughed or how her hair, when pulled partially back, was both simple and alluring.
Sarah checked her watch. They’d arrived at the theater with little time to spare before curtain, and they maneuvered the steps as quickly as they could. It was difficult for Sarah to keep pace in her I’m-trying-to-look-nice-tonight shoes. Emory seemed like she was born wearing killer pumps and took the steps like a pro. “Easy now, I don’t wear heels ten hours a day.” But she was laughing.
Emory reached out. “Take my hand.”
So she did, finding the steps infinitely easier now.
Emory smiled. “Better?”
“Much.” Sarah liked how vibrant she felt alongside Emory and how much she got a kick out of Emory’s smile. She hadn’t seen a lot of it up until this point, but it was quite possibly the most striking thing she’d ever seen.
Once they were inside, the house manager greeted them. “Good evening, Ms. Owen. The curtain is just about to rise. Let’s get you to your seats. Right this way, ladies.” He escorted them quickly down the aisle to their fifth row seats. Sarah sighed with relief that they’d made it on time.
Then she took in the view. “These are amazing seats,” she breathed.