Chapter 10

ten

"Not to be too graphic, but I could feel my own asshole puckering just from being able to see the look on Allegra's face when she was dressing down Henry earlier," Brynn commented as the elevator doors shut behind them to bring them to the lobby.

Dubiously, Emma shot a look at her coworker. " That was you not being too graphic?"

Brynn didn't blink. "Did you feel differently?"

Emma, admittedly, did not. Brynn had done her job and scoured through Henry's articles for the last several months, making notes on them and landing them on Allegra's desk last week.

She hadn't been pleased with the findings; Henry had heard all about it today. He was on very, very thin ice at Olly , and now everyone knew it. At least Emma, Brynn, and Henry all did.

"There's always an upside to a staff writer getting fired, though," Brynn stated brightly as they stepped off the elevator together, walking toward the exit. "It means that Allegra will be farming out for replacement pieces in the meantime before hiring a new one. Opportunity."

Emma's ears perked up at that, and doubt followed quickly on its heels as she dug through her bag for her sunglasses. Even though it was nearly six in the evening, it was still the dead of summer and would be several more hours before the blaring sun went down. "Do you really think we'd have a chance for that?"

Her skepticism was clear in her tone, but she stood by it. Emma was just starting to really find her feet here as an assistant – as of today, it had been the first whole week without her putting her foot in her fucking mouth in front of Allegra. She wasn't even sure she had the right to dream about having an opportunity to write right now.

But she couldn't deny that there was a sense of excitement trilling inside of her at the very idea. Because while being an assistant to Allegra Pantone was a big fucking deal, a job she was lucky to have, Emma had never dreamed of being an assistant; she dreamed of being a writer.

"I don't know for sure," Brynn answered. "But I do know that the lead assistant before I was here was Abigail Talle, so…"

Emma did a double-take. "Like, the staff writer in the food section, Abigail Talle?"

"The very one. All I'm saying is that Henry's ass getting fired in the near future could be a potential boon for one of us." Brynn smartly finished as they walked through the revolving glass doors and onto the sidewalk.

Now that July had rolled in, they were in the thick of the summer humidity, which Emma had never been a fan of. But she supposed she had something to be grateful for – the disgusting heat wave that had attacked for most of June had finally abated. Now, they were living in normal city swamp temperatures.

Before she could say her goodbyes to Brynn, she heard her own name being called from behind her. "Emma! Perfect timing."

Baffled, she spun around to spot Regan quickly approaching. As always, an exuberantly large smile split her wide, plush lips and revealed the picture-perfect dentistry Emma was sure Regan's wealthy parents had paid for.

Granted, it paid off. She wasn't sure she'd ever seen a more beautiful smile than Regan's, nor had she ever met someone who wore it more. It had certainly been on display around their apartment near-constantly in the last two weeks.

Emma lifted a finger to slide her sunglasses slightly down the bridge of her nose to peer at Regan over the top. "Regan? What are you doing here? At my work?"

" Regan ?" Brynn echoed her name, amusement dripping from her tone.

Emma had somehow forgotten Brynn was still there amidst her confusion in the last thirty seconds. She turned back to look at her just as Regan reached them, standing right against Emma, their bare arms touching.

"You must be Brynn," Regan assessed, still with that large grin. She offered her hand, which Brynn took and shook it firmly.

Emma was staring in confusion at Regan because she didn't recall telling Regan much about her job. Sure, she'd mentioned work here and there and had definitely brought up Brynn's name in passing, but it wasn't like she'd regaled Regan with tales about her. Then again, she'd found that she'd been continuously surprised by how observant Regan truly was.

She turned her attention back to Brynn, absolutely not trusting the mischievous look in her eyes. "Ah… roommate drama has all been worked out, then?"

"Yes," Regan answered, leaning into Emma's side. Even though it was over eighty degrees, Regan seemed to take no issue standing right against Emma's body heat.

"We're doing better than ever," Regan informed Brynn, bringing Emma back to reality.

The reality of Brynn staring between the two of them – the smug expression on her face telling Emma that she continued not to believe they were literally just roommates.

The sincerity with which Regan said those words – that they were doing better than ever – didn't help the case. Nor did their proximity to each other, especially given Regan's attire.

Wearing denim cutoffs that just barely covered the bottom curve of her butt and a red crop top, Regan's outfit was appropriate for the weather.

It also appropriately showed off the fact that Regan was undeniably attractive.

It was less appropriate for the way Regan miscalculated physical boundaries. Emma had started to get used to it in the privacy of their apartment in the last two weeks – at times, to even find some strange enjoyment from it. But with Brynn staring at them like this? And in public ?

Emma deliberately side-stepped, putting a couple of inches between them as she slid her sunglasses pointedly back up. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Can't wait," Brynn sing-songed back. "Nice to meet you, Regan."

"You, too!" Regan called after her, immediately turning her attention to Emma and staring up at her expectantly.

Emma matched her stare. "I'm still waiting for the answer?"

"What answer?"

"About what you're doing here?" She repeated her question from minutes ago, exasperated.

This was the sort of thing that may have annoyed her about Regan before. That she would do something like randomly show up at Emma's office unprompted, acting obtuse and dodgy about the reason why.

But it was far more difficult to get annoyed when Regan did things like leave the dishes in the sink after she'd been up baking last Thursday night, when she'd left Emma a homemade chocolate croissant for breakfast and a little note promising to clean everything up before Emma returned from work. And, true to the note, Emma had returned to a spotless home that evening.

The note also had a little elephant doodled on it – Regan had learned that was Emma's favorite animal, via their questionnaire, whereas Emma had learned that Regan's was a shark . So, so strange – which Emma had found disarmingly sweet. For some reason, she'd kept that little note. Maybe it was because Emma couldn't remember the last time someone had some something like that, something so simple as a doodle on a note, but also so… thoughtful and personal.

They'd even found a bathroom rhythm that was surprisingly seamless. Even when they'd both had to get ready in the morning, Emma found that communicating very simply and concisely with Regan really did go a long way.

Sure, Regan still did silly little teasing things – like when Emma went to grab her toothbrush from the holder and found that it was missing, as Regan gave her big, too-innocent doe eyes… but before Emma could get truly riled up, Regan offered her toothbrush that she'd held in her free hand, already prepared with their toothpaste. "I knew you'd be coming in sooner rather than later," Regan had easily commented around her own toothbrush in her mouth. She'd proceeded to list off the precise order in which Emma got ready every morning.

"Ahh, right! I realized that my shift ended, like, a half hour before you said you were likely going to be coming home tonight. And then I thought, well, thirty minutes is basically the amount of time it would probably take to meet you here. Obviously," she tacked on, gesturing around them as if to prove her point.

"Obviously," Emma indulged.

" So , I thought – well, it would be kind of fun to see where you work! Plus, since we're both out at the same time and we're down the street from one of my favorite diners, I figured we could grab dinner together?" There was a clear, hopeful edge in her voice, reflected in how Regan was biting her lip as she looked up at her, awaiting her response.

It seemed that the literal seconds it took Emma to process put Regan on-edge, as she rambled on, "I know we haven't, you know, debuted our friendship anywhere beyond the apartment yet. And our home hangouts have been great, don't get me wrong," she rushed to say. "But… meeting you out and about because we have similar schedules is what friends would do."

"Not in my experience," Emma stated, but she wasn't trying to be difficult.

Honestly, she had always held her friends an arm's length away. Even Sutton, to a degree.

But, as she eyed Regan, she was forced to admit that keeping Regan at a distance wasn't really a possibility. Regan was essentially a puppy; Emma had been slow to learn that. Now that she had , though, it was almost impossible for her to do anything to make Regan give her those big, sad eyes.

And, she found that as she stared at Regan's absurdly optimistic expression, she really had no desire to say no, anyway. Regan was right: their home hangouts had been very enjoyable. It… it was nice to come home to someone who wanted to talk to Emma about her day and in turn, share their stories. They'd started to settle into a rhythm now, and Emma liked a settled rhythm.

"All right," she acquiesced. "Where's the diner?"

It really was only a few blocks away, which Emma was grateful for as they stepped inside the blissful air conditioning. The slightly dingy sign outside proclaimed a 24-hour breakfast, which Regan had assured her was the best she'd ever had.

"Regan! Hi, honey!" A woman who appeared to be in her sixties, shouted on sight from where she was leaning against the wall next to the door to the kitchen. "Sit anywhere you like; I'll be over in a minute!"

"Thanks, Patty!"

Emma stared back and forth at the interaction before following Regan to a booth on the far side of the restaurant. "You really are a regular here."

"Yeah, I worked here for the first three months that I was in New York," Regan informed her as she gestured for Emma to slide into the seat.

Surprised by that information, Emma opened her mouth to question it. That hadn't been on their get-to-know-you questionnaire!

However, she quickly lost track of that question as Regan slid into the same side of the booth she was sitting in.

Slowly, Emma made a point of looking at Regan, before sliding her gaze to the empty side of the booth across from them, then back. "You know people normally sit on the opposite side, unless we're expecting other people?"

"I figured you knew by now I'm not normal," Regan cheekily retorted, her dark eyes twinkling up at Emma as she slid a laminated menu at her.

"You make a very good point," Emma conceded.

Still, though. It felt weird . The sort of thing that would have made Emma double-take when she'd gone out with Felicity, as her ex would have undoubtedly commented some snarky remark about couples being so clingy.

But, she reasoned with herself as she felt her cheeks heat, she and Regan weren't a couple.

Besides, given the chill of the air conditioning, having the solid, warm press of Regan's thigh against her own was kind of nice. It left Emma feeling very pleasantly warm.

"I like it better this way," Regan said, her voice taking on a quieter, more thoughtful tone. "When the dinner rush hits – which will be any minute now – it's going to get way louder. This way, we can hear each other so much more easily."

She was so earnest in her defense of sitting on the same side that Emma's argument against it again folded. Was it so wrong that Regan wanted to be close enough for them to actually converse without shouting? Besides, Regan very clearly felt no embarrassment at anyone possibly giving them a second look, so… why should Emma?

"I'll move to the other side if you want me to," Regan offered.

Emma found herself shaking her head. "You're lucky you smell nice," she muttered, looking down at the menu.

Her tone was sardonic, but the comment was true. Regan used a peppermint shampoo and conditioner that always left her hair smelling minty and fresh, and whatever perfume or products she used complimented it perfectly. When Regan ignored normal societal personal boundary rules, it made Emma feel like she was taking a breath of fresh air.

Emma found it enjoyable and far more appealing than something floral or cloying. She'd gotten very used to it, even before the last two weeks of bonding.

"Why, thank you!" Regan fluttered her eyelashes exaggeratedly at her. "Might be the sweetest thing you've ever said to me."

"Regan! How the heck are you? It's been a couple of months," Patty's loud voice boomed as she neared them, staring down with a broad grin.

"I'm good! Been busy. Sutton's in Rome; this is Emma, my new roommate," Regan tilted her head in Emma's direction as if she could possibly be introducing anyone else.

The bells above the entrance jingled, and Patty looked up, grimacing. "Ah, shit. I can't stay and catch up, but I'll throw your order in before the kitchen gets crazy. What'll you have?"

"I'll have my usual," Regan answered without having spent a second looking at the menu. Emma supposed this made sense, given that she'd worked here. "Pancakes." Regan turned to inform her. "With a side of bacon and home fries. Literally the best pancakes in the city."

Emma was sold. "I'll just take the same, then."

"Making it easy for me, I like you already." Patty nodded at her approvingly.

She'd take it because getting the approval from waiters was one of Emma's favorite things.

Regan's eyes widened as she reached out to put her hand over Patty's before she could walk away. "Wait – there's no nuts of any kind that go into the pancakes, right? Not even in the flour? Emma's allergic. Let Johnny know that he has to be careful."

There was a demanding urgency in her tone that Emma had never heard from Regan. And with it came a deep, warm appreciation.

"Will do, sweets." Patty nodded diligently before walking away.

Regan turned back to face her, sliding a hand through her hair. Before she froze, her eyebrows high on her forehead as she looked questioningly at Emma.

"What?" Emma asked, as Regan's expression made her feel alarmed. "What is it?"

"Um… nothing," Regan hedged, sliding her fingertips along the metal edge of the table. "You were smiling at me, is all. You don't normally just do that unless I say something amusing."

Emma hadn't even realized she'd been grinning at Regan, but she supposed it wasn't a surprise. She felt herself flush from having it pointed out. "I just – people don't normally do that." She gestured at where Patty had stood moments ago. "Make a point of my allergy; I usually do it for myself."

"Most people probably haven't hospitalized you, either," Regan allowed, a guilty expression creeping up on her face.

"True." Emma allowed. "But still."

Unbidden, she thought about how the only other time she'd had to go to the hospital for her allergy in her adult life had been when she'd been dating Felicity. One of the desserts in the "nut-free" zone on the table clearly hadn't been truthful, and instead of spending the remainder of the evening at Felicity's Friendsgiving, she'd been in the ER. Her ex had looked conflicted but ultimately hadn't joined her because she'd been hosting the party at her apartment, and Emma hadn't held that against her.

But she'd been lonely and felt like shit in the hospital by herself.

Something told her that even if Regan hadn't been the one responsible for hospitalizing her, she would have done exactly what she'd done that night – spend the entire time by Emma's side.

And she supposed that was the benefit of having Regan in your corner. After all, she'd seen the ferocity with which Regan had defended Sutton over the years. Emma guessed it was extended to most people Regan cared about.

Which, wildly, seemed to include her.

Emma cleared her throat, and Regan immediately turned to look at her. "So, I've kind of noticed that you bring up the night you sent me to the hospital… a lot."

Every time they had dinner together – which had been three more times after the roasted chicken of last week – Regan made a point to clarify that there were no nuts, always saying it with a stricken expression.

Regan nodded, that same expression creeping up on her face. "Yeah. I mean, I think about it a lot." Her big, dark eyes searched Emma's, imploringly. "It was terrifying to experience. And if it was that bad for me, I know it was way worse for you."

Emma rolled her lips, almost feeling exasperated by how damn genuine Regan was. "I want you to let it go. Seriously."

Regan's forehead crinkled as her eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Really?"

She found herself nodding slowly, reconciling that she did really feel that way. "I know it was an accident. Yes, you should have read the roommate contract. But… it's okay, Regan. I'm totally fine, and I can clearly see it's a mistake you will never make again – or let anyone else make." She gestured in Patty's direction.

Regan eagerly nodded, her hand falling to Emma's, squeezing intently. Her touch was warm and soft. " Never ," she swore. "I'll eat every nut in the world before I let it get to you. That includes byproducts."

The sincerity with which she said those ludicrous words made Emma chuckle. As she did, she studied Regan closely.

There really were a lot of sides to her. Positives Emma wouldn't allow herself to have seen in her own stubbornness.

And now that she'd opened her eyes, she was curious.

Curious about these aspects of Regan that she really didn't know. Even though Regan was the first person to claim she was an open book, even with that silly little questionnaire, Emma had a lot of gaps in her knowledge.

Which brought her back to, "You worked here? I always thought you started at Topped Off as soon as you moved to the city?"

"I basically did. I moved seven years ago this last May, and started at Topped Off in August. Been there ever since," Regan explained, running her eyes slowly over the restaurant. A small smile played on her lips by the time she returned her gaze to Emma. "I discovered that I wasn't quite the best waitress."

Easily recalling their first encounter, Emma dryly stated, "You don't say."

But, again, she felt no malice. Didn't feel the pull of that embedded grudge. She just… wanted to know more.

Regan laughed her full-bodied chuckle. "Yeah. There was a lot of carnage; it was my first-ever job. I got relegated to making the coffee by the end of my second week, and I realized that I was really good at it. So, going to Topped Off made a lot more sense."

Seemed simple enough. Emma accepted the explanation with a nod. Still, her curiosity wasn't sated, and she continued to stare at Regan, trying to make sense of the knowledge she'd accumulated over the years. "I still don't understand why you moved here. As a native, I've seen it all. People from small towns looking for a big change. People hustling to make it big in some industry or other. But… all you said when I asked you before was because Sutton lived here?"

Really, Regan was such an oddity in that sense. And Emma wanted to understand it. To understand her .

Regan nodded, looking at Emma as quizzically. "Yes? We've already talked about this."

Emma couldn't help the incredulous frown that tugged at her mouth. "I just… you moved to one of the most expensive cities in the world with no plans because – your best friend lived here?"

She didn't mean to sound judgmental. Really, she didn't. But Emma's logic-driven brain simply couldn't compute that answer, though. Not when Regan had her life set up for her back in Massachusetts. She'd known Regan had attended Brandeis University for a year, that she could have finished her education without a single student loan, to have a degree to fall back on as a security blanket at the very least.

Regan was frowning back at her. "Yes," she doubled down, firmly. "That's exactly what I did."

Emma bit the inside of her cheek to hold back any thoughts she had that could possibly come out that weren't very positive. Literally, she bit down and averted her gaze from Regan's to stare at the table and mind her own business.

The sigh Regan let out was full of obvious frustration, though, as she dropped her hand down to the table and tapped her fingertips against it. "Just say it."

Emma cleared her throat as she shot Regan a look. "Say what?"

Regan's stare alone demanded Emma cut through the bullshit. "Whatever you're obviously thinking but not saying. Just say it so you aren't stewing on it."

"I shouldn't," Emma disagreed. "Because I'm trying , remember?"

"You putting in effort to our friendship doesn't mean you don't have opinions; I'm fully aware you have them. And we won't ever get anywhere if we aren't being ourselves." Regan squared her shoulders as she turned in the booth to look at Emma fully. "So, I will tell you again: just say it."

"You really are as persistent as I am stubborn," Emma muttered as she turned sideways to face Regan, as well. If Regan could take criticism head-on, Emma could deliver it the same way. "Look, I'm sorry, but that's something I've always found really frustrating about you. If you want the spirit of honesty between us as friends , then… there it is."

The way Regan's eyebrows furrowed made her confusion clear.

Emma elaborated, "The fact that you could have had that path in life! College completely paid for, a bright future that you don't have to beg, borrow, and steal anything to achieve. I don't hold it against Sutton that doors were opened for her in life because she was born into a wealthy family, because I can respect that she understands how privileged she is, and she's using it to work toward her own dreams."

She shook her head slightly, staring at Regan, feeling just as baffled as she'd been a minute ago. Feeling echoes of frustration she'd had with Regan for years.

"Do you even understand how lucky you are? To have gone to the school system you grew up in, to have the doors opened to you that you did?" She searched Regan's gaze, really wanting to know; this wasn't rhetorical to Emma.

"Do you know how hard I've had to work to get to where I am? How many jobs I've had to work to slog my way through college, to pay the tuition I owed even after maxing out all of my student loans? Do you think I wanted to graduate and start my career only a few months shy of turning thirty? A career in which I'm currently spending my days sifting through applications for the Alton Writing Fellowship, and every single one is a giant reminder that I earned one of those Fellowship spots myself – and then couldn't go. Because I couldn't afford it."

The words burst from her, from a place so far down, Emma hadn't expected it to bubble up to the surface. She blinked in surprise, embarrassment quickly on its heels to tie knots in her stomach.

And Regan's crystal clear gaze – which had gone from confused to defensive to curious and had now settled on sympathetic – held hers, refusing to let go. "I never knew you got into the Alton program thing."

Emma shrugged, the movement jerky as she reached up a fidgeting hand and swiped her hair behind her ear. "Yeah, it was before I met you. Er, before I met Sutton," she quickly corrected, feeling her cheeks burn under Regan's watchful gaze.

What she wasn't going to say to Regan was that Emma didn't discuss the brief moment in time that she'd been accepted into the Alton Fellowship with anyone. She'd been utterly elated when she'd gotten accepted, had wanted to shout it from the rooftops. She'd already been gripping her phone so she could call her grandmother and tell her the news…

But then she'd finished going through the envelope and realized that while she had a spot in the program, she hadn't received any grant money.

Meaning that to partake in the four-month-long California-based fellowship, Emma would have to somehow find the money to get herself across the country, find a new place to live, and try to find a job that would allow her to work around the fellowship hours. All while living away from the only supports she had, in the forms of her gram and her girlfriend.

And the fact that she'd factored how much she'd miss Felicity and their stable relationship, only for Felicity to turn around and unceremoniously dump Emma, had been a retroactive slap in the face, on top of it all.

She cleared her throat. "Anyway, I wasn't trying to be an asshole to you about the decisions you make in your own life. Because – it is your life. I just… it's… hard to see someone have access to so many opportunities, like you have, when I would have killed to have half of that access."

She still felt embarrassed, saying it aloud. Because saying it aloud brought Emma back viscerally to the memories of when she was the only kid in her middle school class who was there on scholarship. Being poor and feeling ashamed of being poor. Then, on top of that, feeling ashamed of being ashamed, because she knew how fucking hard her grandmother worked to provide for her.

Emma couldn't even remember the last time she'd talked about any of these feelings, the last time those core memories had felt so present in her mind. And she couldn't understand why the hell she'd just laid out so much about herself to Regan in a diner booth.

Regan's hand landed softly on Emma's again, soft and warm, and when she squeezed Emma's wrist, Emma forced herself to look up at Regan.

Much like in middle school, she'd put on a brave, defiant expression, even if it didn't match her feelings.

But Regan's expression didn't match the middle school bullies, not at all. It was sweet and filled with an understanding Emma hadn't anticipated. "I really appreciate you telling me all of that."

Emma arched a doubtful eyebrow at her. "Really?"

Regan was glad Emma had spilled her deep-seated, bitter feelings on Regan's privilege?

Still, Regan's guileless face didn't lie. "Yeah, because I feel like I actually get it, now. Why you've always been so grr towards me. And…" Regan's white teeth dug into her lip as she dropped her gaze for the first time. "I understand why you feel that way. It makes sense."

"It does." Emma knew she wasn't adding anything helpful to the conversation, but she couldn't help it.

She'd expected Regan to jump right back at her, defending her own life choices. It would probably have been what Emma would have done if the roles had been reversed.

Regan took a deep breath, her shoulders lifting with it, before she slowly blew it out, then turned back to Emma. There was a lightness in her eyes again as she said, "Yup, it does. And now that it's been voiced aloud, I feel like we can finally move beyond it, right?"

Emma didn't immediately agree. She took a second to think it over but ultimately nodded. "I guess so. I mean, we kind of already are." She paused as the reality of the words hit her.

Regan's insanely enchanting, exuberant smile returned as she squeezed Emma's wrist twice, letting go of it just as Patty returned with their food.

Emma had to admit after taking a bite – they were pretty damn good. And judging by the knowing grin Regan had on her face as Emma chewed, she knew exactly what she was thinking.

Emma rolled her eyes in response, before she gasped at how Regan was haphazardly scraping her knife through the stack of pancakes on her own plate. "Oh my god, has anyone ever taught you how to hold a knife?"

"Ha-ha," Regan mimicked a laugh before gesturing at Emma's own plate. "Has anyone ever told you that this isn't a math class, and you don't have to cut your pancakes into equally sized pieces?"

Emma brought her hand up, protectively cupping it around the side of her plate. Where she had, indeed, methodically, neatly cubed her pancakes a minute ago. "You're literally sawing at them."

Regan made a dramatic point of using her knife like a saw, then, and Emma couldn't help but laugh, even as the image of the mangled pancakes looked like the result of an angry toddler.

"So," Regan said, pointedly changing the subject. "Why did you want to get into publishing?"

Emma rolled her lips like she had to think about the answer, even though she didn't.

But she looked back at Regan, at her shameless mushy pancake mess and wide, genuinely curious eyes. At how she had a smudge of maple syrup right at the edge of her full lips.

And she realized – that was it.

Something about Regan's blatantly open, honest approach to life may be loud and chaotic, but it was always honest and accepting.

Emma spoke before she even realized what she was doing. "It was because of magazines," she admitted with a self-deprecating shrug. "I was obsessed with magazines when I was little. My grandma would bring me to the store, and I would wander away from her as soon as we walked in, grabbing a handful of whatever the latest ones were, and then sequester myself away in a quiet aisle, trying to read as many articles as I could before we had to leave. She'd let me buy one, so I'd always pick the thickest one – whatever it was – to take home."

A small smile played on her lips at the memory. Even though they hadn't had much money to spare, and her gram considered magazines a frivolous expense, she'd always gotten Emma one.

"God, I loved reading celebrity gossip in the glossy papers at the supermarket," Regan agreed, exhaling a dreamy, exaggerated sigh. She cut her gaze to Emma's. "But I didn't read all of the articles in them; I was more of a picture-speaks-a-thousand-words girl."

"Unsurprising," Emma deadpanned, amused.

It felt – good? Sharing this with Regan. God, that was weird. But, Regan was weird – in a good way, Emma was coming to see. So, she supposed it made sense.

"And?" Regan prompted.

Emma sent her a questioning look as she took a bite from a piece of bacon.

Regan used her fork to gesture at Emma. "When did you know you wanted to be a part of their world? Like, I loved reading magazines, but I never thought I wanted to write in them."

"Almost immediately." Emma scoffed out a laugh at her young self. "I'd write articles for my grandmother constantly."

Regan's interest was apparent as she set her elbow on the table, resting her chin on her fist and looking at Emma with her full attention. "Do you still write? I mean – I know that's the goal, right? But, like, your days at work aren't filled with writing."

Emma's chewing slowed that creeping self-consciousness returning. "Uh, not… really." She hedged after she swallowed.

"Ohhhh," Regan sang out, eyebrows lifting as she leaned in even closer to Emma. " Not really also means yes, a little ."

Regan stared at her unwaveringly. Emma stared back, that squirmy nervous feeling in her stomach.

"Fine," she gave in after a few seconds. "I don't really write. Like, I'm not writing books or articles or anything. I…" She licked her lips before admitting, "I have a bookstagram. Where I write reviews of the novels I read."

Regan reeled back, her face filled with shock and delight. "Emma!"

She narrowed her eyes. "Why is that so crazy?" She demanded, even though she admittedly had just been reluctant to confess to it. "I love to read, and I have a lot of opinions."

"Yeah, that part isn't shocking." Regan laughed. "What's shocking is that – I follow you on all of your socials. And you hardly ever post on them! It's hard to believe you care enough about any social media to keep up with it."

"Well, I wasn't doing it for a following or whatever," she muttered, shrugging. "Look, I started it when I was in undergrad when I didn't have any time to write anything other than essays. Writing out my thoughts on books was just a fun idea."

Regan was already sliding out her phone. "Emma, you don't have to convince me you aren't here for the clout." She looked at Emma over her phone. "Now, what's your name? How do I find you?"

Cheeks burning, Emma pointedly turned away from Regan. "Yeah, that is not happening."

Mouth falling open in offense, Regan demanded, "Why! You'll let strangers follow you, but not your literal roommate-slash-friend?!"

"Yes."

"That's crazy."

"Isn't bonding supposed to be a two-way street?" Emma asked, turning the tables on Regan before they could dig in any deeper.

Honestly, Regan was the only person in her real life who knew about Emma's book reviewing social media life; Emma felt like that was plenty of sharing on her end.

With obvious reluctance, Regan set down her phone. "Indeed it is. What do you want to know about me?"

Of course, Regan offered herself to Emma without hesitation.

However, instead of finding that annoying, Emma found it… admirable.

Even though Regan was freely inviting Emma to ask anything, Emma found that she didn't know what exactly to ask. There was so much she didn't know, and she didn't know where to even start.

"Tell me something other people don't know," she challenged, mostly because she'd just spent the entire dinner so far telling Regan things that she never talked about with anyone else. Leveling the playing field would be nice.

Regan's lips twisted in thought as she pondered Emma's comment.

"I like to draw maps."

The sheer randomness of that statement made Emma choke on her water. Coughing, she blinked at Regan. " What ?"

But the grin on Regan's face wasn't joking or teasing. If anything, it was a little sheepish. "Maps. I like to draw them."

Emma frowned. "Like… of New York? The subway? The country?"

"Of made-up countries," Regan corrected, staring at Emma incredulously. "The subway ?"

Emma mirrored her expression. "How are made-up countries less wild than the subway?"

"Who do you know that draws subway maps?"

"I don't know anyone that draws maps at all," Emma countered, then paused as she slid her gaze to Regan. "Well, I didn't think I did, anyway. How did you get into the world of fictional cartography?"

Regan chuckled. "Fictional cartography. I like that. Um, it wasn't planned . Much like baking – I started hanging out more with some of the people at the café last fall, and I tagged along with Dustin to one of his D she had when she'd been younger, but over time, that had shifted. Leaving… this.

"I won't keep you long – unless you want to chat?" Kimberly asked but then continued on without waiting for an answer. "It's just been over two weeks since I saw you, and I didn't want to let too much time pass before we confirmed those dinner plans! So, like I said, I won't keep you; I just wanted to know when you and Regan will be available. Maybe sometime this weekend? I could even do tomorrow, if you're free?"

Regan immediately zipped her gaze up to stare at Emma as soon as she'd heard her name. So much for pretending like she wasn't eavesdropping.

Emma froze where she stood, her stomach twisting at the reminder. Right. Her mom – and her gram – still believed she was in a relationship with Regan.

And Emma had been so focused on everything else playing out with Regan – their argument, then subsequent friendship – that she hadn't exactly had the time or energy to think of what the hell she was going to say to her family about it.

The stupidest, most ridiculous lie, honestly. And the stupidest, most ridiculous thing was it still seemed easier to let her mom believe than tell her the truth.

Emma slowly started speaking, shaking her head at that thought, "Uh. You know. About that. Regan and I – we actually aren't…" She heaved a sigh, her stress mounting as she dragged her hand through her hair and blinked at the ceiling.

Should she tell her mom she and Regan broke up? Was the truth – that she'd lied in order to find another excuse to put off spending time with Kimberly – even a viable option? It felt too cruel at this point. Especially since Kimberly had seen them with her own eyes, keeping up the charade.

"We aren't available tomorrow, unfortunately, because I have work," Regan answered, her voice coming from right next to Emma.

She snapped her eyes open, looking down at Regan, who was pushing up onto her tiptoes to get her mouth closer to Emma's phone.

The result was their shoulders pressing tightly together, as she breathed in Regan's fresh scent.

"But maybe Saturday?" Regan suggested, sliding her gaze to Emma's, eyebrows lifted in question, waiting for her to give her agreement.

She could feel every warm breath Regan exhaled, washing over her jaw, as their eyes were only inches apart, and it – it was jarring. She'd never stood so close to Regan in her life, close enough to see that there were little flecks of amber starbursting around her pupils.

Her stomach fluttered for an entirely different reason, and Emma found her breath catching in her throat, before she remembered abruptly why Regan was standing so close, staring at her like this.

She'd never been so relieved to have reality crash back down on her, and she found herself nodding, "Uh… I guess Saturday works for me, too."

Okay, so, they were doing this, still. Both because it made Emma's life easier in the immediacy in dealing with her mother, and because it allowed her the freedom to pull back, away from being so startlingly close to Regan.

Kimberly's answering squeal of excitement was piercing . "Saturday is perfect! I'll see you both then!"

The silence in the hallway was deafening when Kimberly hung up.

She was still trying to process it when Regan tentatively spoke, "That was, kind of, my act-first, think-later mentality. It seemed like you were in a pickle, still, so I'm sor–"

"You didn't have to do that," Emma cut in, not needing or wanting to hear Regan's apology.

Sure, maybe Regan had jumped into her crazy lie. But Emma was the one who had made this situation unnecessarily complicated by avoiding telling the truth in the first place.

"This weird lie is what got us into that… predicament," Emma said, because it was the truth. She'd spiraled and accidentally insulted Regan because her grandmother had found out about the lie. "So, I'm not holding you to it or anything; it's not why I'm doing this," she gestured between them.

Crazily, it was the truth.

"I know. But if it makes your life a little easier right now with your complicated-mom-stuff, why wouldn't I do it? I already told you that I love a little scheme. This is what friends are for. Besides, I really don't have any plans Saturday night."

Regan said the words so simply, so easily, as she unlocked their apartment door.

It was as if she wasn't doing Emma a giant favor, as if she wasn't going along with this lie, helping Emma out, and giving up her own weekend night off to do so.

And Emma stared at Regan, feeling like she finally – finally – understood. Like everything really was clicking into place.

She'd wondered for years why Sutton was such a staunch friend to Regan, even when Regan did crazy things like message women on her behalf on dating apps or got them lost on road trips. Why Sutton wasn't bothered by Regan's eccentricities or lack of ambition.

But this was why.

Because Regan did things like show up to take her friends out to dinner, listened to every story with intent, and remembered every detail. Because she was willing to throw her own lot in with someone she cared about and ride out the storm together.

She felt like she'd put in the final puzzle piece.

And she didn't realize how intently she'd been staring at Regan until Regan turned to face her and asked, "Do I have something on my face?" She was already reaching up and brushing the back of her hand over her cheek before Emma answered.

Emma flushed, shaking her head intently as she dropped her gaze. "No. You're good."

But Emma wasn't – she was getting pulled into Regan's crazy orbit! If she weren't careful, the next thing she knew, she'd be the one getting traumatized on impromptu weekend road trips!

"It's EditorialEmma," she said, deliberately averting her stare as she shut the door behind her.

"What is?"

"My book-reviewing name," she explained, breathing through the weird feeling in the pit of her stomach at being vulnerable . But Regan was doing her a favor, and Emma liked to replay favors to make sure everything was even.

Regan's face absolutely lit up at the information, and her obvious excitement helped quell Emma's embarrassment. "You just saved me so much time I'd already mentally set aside for tonight to find your secret social medias!"

Oh no. It really was happening. She should have found Regan's determination to find Emma's private accounts annoying, an invasion of privacy.

Instead, she found it… was this endearment ?

It was, she realized, as she watched Regan do a little excited dance as she walked down the hallway.

God help her.