Chapter 9

nine

Regan Freaking Gallagher – 2:33 PM

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Regan Freaking Gallagher – 2:33 PM

had the most genuinely delightful tourists come in today. Guess where they're from (no, really, you will never guess)

Emma glanced down at her phone surreptitiously as possible as she sat next to Allegra in the backseat of her boss's town car. And then choked on her laughter when she saw the picture Regan had sent to her. A family of six, all with identical mullets, wearing neon-colored I 3 NY t-shirts. Regan had blocked out their faces with emojis, but if anything, it added to the amusing quality of the photo.

Quickly, she darkened her phone screen, doing her very best to smother any sounds of amusement as she shot a look toward Allegra.

Her attempt to hide that she'd clearly looked at something amusing on her phone was futile, as her boss had already turned her sharp gaze from where it had been focused on her tablet to stare at Emma.

"Are the follow-up emails from our meeting all that entertaining?" Allegra drawled, winging an eyebrow up at her in question.

Emma slowly shook her head, feeling her cheeks burn. Honestly, she'd love to blame Regan for sending that picture to her, but the reality was that it was on Emma for looking at it.

Growth.

"No. Sorry. That was… personal. But I've already sent all of the follow-up emails and forwarded the notes to Renee," she quickly added, needing Allegra to know that despite Emma's foot-in-mouth syndrome, she hadn't been bagging off on her responsibilities.

Allegra hmm 'd under her breath before she waved her hand in Emma's direction. "Then, by all means, use the rest of the drive back to the office for personal correspondence."

Emma's eyebrows shot up in obvious surprise.

"You've been by my side in nonstop meetings since eight-thirty this morning; I'm counting this as your lunch break." Allegra turned her attention back to her tablet.

Willing herself not to snort in laughter again, Emma took a deep breath and unlocked her phone.

Emma – 2:35 PM

And… you HAD to send me that in the middle of the work day…

Regan Freaking Gallagher – 2:35 PM

Emma, I would have sent you that at three in the morning if need be. If you were on death's door, even

Emma pursed her lips, fighting off another snort of laughter at Regan's ridiculousness.

Regan Freaking Gallagher – 2:36 PM

But the main reason I needed to text you is because I need to know – chicken or steak?

Emma couldn't help her first, cautious, instinct.

Emma – 2:36 PM

For what?

Regan Freaking Gallagher – 2:36 PM

For a surprise!

Without allowing herself to dive too deep into the question, Emma answered.

Emma – 2:37 PM

Chicken

Regan Freaking Gallagher – 2:37 PM

Amazing! I'll see you later

Won't bother you at work again (today) unless I come across another undeniable must-see'

Wait – seriously, guess where they're from!!

Emma – 2:38PM

Ummmm Idaho

Regan Freaking Gallagher – 2:38 PM

NEW JERSEY!!!! LIKE WTF!!! Lmao

Emma shook her head, finding that she was annoyingly amused. She shouldn't be surprised, she knew, because Regan was amusing. Emma had known that for the past couple of years. It had just been an easy personality trait to overlook because she hadn't wanted to get sucked in.

It had been a few days since their bonding time over the weekend – Emma hated referring to it like that, but there was simply no other word for it. They'd bonded . First over the cupcakes, and then over watching that damn reality show Regan had put on that Emma was forced to admit she'd gotten sucked into – and she really did feel like they'd started to turn a corner.

Regan had been trying with Emma for a while, and it was now up to her to reciprocate that effort.

Emma was finding that it was startlingly and disconcertingly easy to do so.

So, she'd been doing little things. Like answering Regan's texts when she had a break. She'd ignored them before because… she didn't even really know – to prove a point, maybe? That they didn't have to be friends even if they were roommates?

Regan's messages were often dramatic or hyperbolic, for sure. But now that Emma wasn't dismissing Regan's attempts at communication, she found that Regan's texts – under the theatrics – fell into two categories: either it was something unfailingly amusing, much like the text she'd just received, or it was something thoughtful.

Like asking Emma what her favorite brand of tissues were because they were out, and she was going to run to the store on her way home. Or if Emma needed any menstrual products because Regan had – somewhere along the way – clocked that they were synced up, and she was grabbing herself tampons.

It was… nice. Emma had to admit it.

As if summoned by her thoughts, her phone buzzed again.

Sutton Spencer – 2:40 PM

So – how's it going? Regan told me you two baked together??

Emma shook her head slightly, noting that the car was turning onto the block Olly was located on.

Emma – 2:40 PM

It's good. Unsurprisingly, Sutton, you may have been right.

Emma wasn't surprised to find Regan in the kitchen when she got home after work. After the question Regan had asked her, she also wasn't surprised to find that Regan had made them chicken for dinner.

She was surprised as she came to a slow stop in the doorway to the kitchen to see the extent to which Regan had gone to.

A whole roasted chicken was on the counter, fresh out of the oven, accompanied by mashed potatoes, stuffing, brussels sprouts, rolls, and gravy.

She blinked, trying to take it in. "Am I missing something? It is July, right?"

Regan turned, her mouth falling open in faux shock. "Emma, what are you talking about?! It's November! This is our Thanksgiving spread!"

"You know, if I hadn't just walked from the subway to our apartment in cloying heat, I might be tempted to believe you," she dryly shot back.

Regan's expression easily melted into a smile, and she shrugged. "Yeah, well, I had to try."

Emma tentatively took a few steps into the kitchen, lured by the incredible smell. "Just to be clear – I'm not missing some sort of major holiday, right?"

"As far as I know, the only major holiday in July is the Fourth, and we don't celebrate with roasted chicken," Regan returned.

"Right," she cautiously agreed. "So, the meal is for?"

Regan's large, expressive eyes stared into Emma's, the playful hint falling away from them as she answered, "I told you before: I really do like to cook. I just hate cooking for one. So… I figured this could be a do-over?" There was a hopeful edge in her tone, something so earnest that it grabbed onto something inside of Emma. "I know I totally fucked up the last time I did this for us. But this is one hundred percent nut-free."

Regan reached up and quickly drew a little x over her heart.

Emma slowly blew out a breath, eyebrows lifted on her forehead as she looked around the kitchen. Taking in the food before looking at Regan herself. Her dark hair was tousled, half-up and half-down, and her cheeks were slightly pink from having been cooking for likely the last few hours.

She then dropped her gaze down to the table. Where Regan had set them plates and silverware, as well as… pieces of paper?

"What is this?" She asked, walking over to the table so she could grab it.

Regan jumped forward to answer, obviously excited. "Oh! I totally forgot I put those out already. It's a little get-to-know-you game. I figured we could play over dinner. You know, since we're becoming friends and all."

Both papers were identical – one for Emma, one for Regan – with lists written in Regan's neat scrawl.

Birthday, favorite/least holiday, color, TV show/movie, day of the week, animal…

… Emma scanned her gaze over the paper quickly before lifting it to look at Regan skeptically.

"Over dinner, I figured we could both fill these out and then we could guess the other person's answer!" Regan explained as if it were obvious that this was going to be a guessing game.

Emma scoffed out a laugh because this was so Regan . Even if she hadn't anticipated that they'd be playing 20 Questions over dinner, she wasn't surprised.

She took a deep breath, finding that more than anything, she felt… amused.

"Sure," she agreed after several moments.

After all, she imagined that this – dinner together, little getting-to-know-you games – was exactly the kind of thing Regan had envisioned for them when Emma had moved in. It seemed fair.

Regan pumped her fist in an absurdly adorable celebration.

"I already know your birthday, though," Emma stated unthinkingly as she reviewed the list again.

Regan's little happy dance paused as she tilted her head up at Emma in obvious surprise. "You do?"

"May seventeenth," Emma informed her, almost slightly insulted. "Regan, we've been in the same small friend circle for over two years; I know your birthday."

"Well, I didn't want to assume. We can cross that one off because I know yours, too."

Emma bit the inside of her cheek, debating if she should say the thought that popped into her mind. But because they were trying , she forced the words out. "I got you a birthday gift."

All of Regan's movements stopped as she spun quickly around to look at Emma, baffled. "No, you didn't."

At the memory, Emma's stomach twisted uncomfortably. "Uh… yeah. I did."

Regan shook her head, her eyebrows furrowing in thought. "No, you didn't . I would have remembered because it was only a few days after you moved in. And we barely spoke that day."

Ugh , yeah, Emma did not enjoy this feeling in the pit of her stomach at the reminder. "Yeah, well, at the time, you'd just broken my gram's hummingbird figurines, and I wasn't feeling particularly…"

"Celebratory," Regan supplied kindly.

"Right," Emma latched onto it. "So, I didn't give it to you. And I'm sorry. But I'll grab it for you after dinner."

"What is it?" Regan asked, walking a few steps closer to Emma as if she were magnetized toward her.

It was disconcerting how close Regan came to her. Emma drew in a sharp breath, wondering if Regan had any concept of personal space. Because she only stopped inches before their chests brushed together.

But those dark eyes were so wide, so curious, affixed to Emma's, and… she really didn't think Regan had any conscious thought to how close they were standing.

Emma wondered if Regan even knew she did this if she was aware of her lack of personal space. It had always been something Emma had noted about Regan, even before they'd made peace. The way Regan never moved out of her way or the casual touching she engaged in. But ever since last weekend, it seemed to be more intense. Like when they sat on the couch together to watch tv, Regan always took the seat immediately to Emma's side, so their legs and arms brushed.

"Um." Emma cleared her throat, her cheeks flushing as she stepped a few inches back. "It's just a blanket. I was there when you and Sutton debated who got to keep that Helene Pierce sherpa throw blanket, and Sutton ultimately ended up bringing it to Rome, so…"

Emma honestly hadn't thought much about buying the blanket for Regan. She'd been at the store later that day, buying a few necessities for her move, and had seen the exact blanket Regan and Sutton had debated about on the shelf. Even if she hadn't had any desire to befriend Regan, she felt it would be a little shitty to move in with her two days before Regan's birthday and then totally ignore the occasion.

Which… had ended up being exactly what Emma had done.

"The Helene Pierce blanket?!" Regan gasped, reaching out to grasp Emma's wrist. A wide smile played on her ridiculously full lips as she bounced onto her tiptoes. "Seriously?"

"It's just a blanket," Emma muttered, embarrassment filtering through her. "Don't make it a big deal."

Regan's gaze stayed solidly on Emma's eyes wide and alarmingly soft. "You got me a birthday present."

That feeling in the pit of Emma's stomach fluttered again, and she deliberately stepped away from Regan in the direction of the food. " Anyway , let's eat before you make it weird."

"Too late!"