Chapter 11

eleven

Audrey L. Gallagher – 5:00 PM

Brunch reservation next Saturday. Fox and Hyde. 11 AM.

Regan paused where she stood in her bedroom, frowning at her sister's text. She opened her calendar app to double-check her suspicions, feeling triumphant as her suspicions were confirmed.

Regan – 5:01 PM

I don't see it on Audrey and Armando's wedding calendar?

She'd taken calendar notifications a little more seriously since last month. Keeping an orderly schedule was obviously incredibly important to Emma, and Regan – in her determination to be a better roommate and… dare she say, friend? – was adhering to that.

And Regan would have to admit that checking in with her calendar and keeping track of things on there had been making her more far more organized and less frenzied.

Audrey L. Gallagher – 5:01 PM

It's not on there. That's why I'm texting you, Regan. To let you know that you should make a note of it in your calendar.

Regan stared down at her sister's text for a few seconds – since when did Audrey throw together a last-minute bridal party event? But… whatever. She responded with a thumbs-up, added it to her calendar, and tossed her phone onto her bed.

Right now, that was unimportant.

Emma's family was the focal point of the evening. She took a deep breath, shaking off Audrey's weirdness as she looked in her full-length mirror.

She ruffled her hair a bit, the dark strands falling in their natural waves down to her shoulders. She wore minimal makeup, but she figured that was a good decision. Even though Regan hadn't ever gotten to the stage of a relationship where meeting the family was a thing, she wasn't an idiot. She was aiming for the sweet spot – looking good but not looking like she was trying too hard.

With her hands on her hips, she turned to look at the outfit options she had laid out on her bed.

The thing Regan desperately needed to concern herself about not fucking up was this. Because things with Emma had been going so well lately. Like, really well.

Like – Emma actually smiled at her, all cute and sleepy, when they were in the kitchen to get coffee at the same time in the morning.

Like – Emma was even getting into watching The One with her. Not only did she not get annoyed when Regan paused the episode to make her commentary about each of the candidates, but Emma liked to do that, too.

"Now, that guy definitely poses with a fish on dating apps ," Emma scoffed derisively about a contestant the night before.

Regan had giggled, settling down deeper into the cushion next to her as she gestured to the other guy on screen. " And he takes all of his pictures from an angle beneath his chin ."

Like – she'd literally shared her secret book-reviewing social media page with Regan!

Regan couldn't – wouldn't – blow this newfound friendship tonight by not making a good impression at family dinner. It meant a lot to her.

With that thought in mind, Regan strutted to her bedroom door and tossed it open. "Emma! Can you come here? I need you."

She stared intently at Emma's adjacent bedroom door, itching to walk over and open it herself.

She didn't , though, because Emma wasn't Sutton, and she wouldn't like that. Even with all of their progress.

Thankfully, a few seconds later, Emma stepped out. "Is everything okay?" She asked, looking down at her phone, her thumbs moving over the screen.

The question on Regan's lips died, falling back down her throat as Emma stood in front of her in high-waisted black shorts with a baby blue button-up tucked into them. But the buttons weren't all done up just yet.

No, the top… five? Six? Were still undone, and her breasts were being showcased in the seriously incredible white bra she wore.

Regan didn't know what it was about Emma's breasts that she found so fascinating. She really didn't. But it was an undeniable fact by now, something she'd simply had to come to accept.

Maybe it was because the sight brought Regan back to the first time they'd met at the café, when Regan had ripped her shirt open, and Emma's prodigious chest had been there, right in front of her face. Maybe it was because her breasts were so much bigger than Regan's own – or Sutton's or… any woman's that Regan had ever seen in real life.

They were mesmerizing.

"All right, I ordered the Uber," Emma commented as she tapped her phone again, finally lowering it. "What did you–"

Emma abruptly cut herself off, mirroring Regan's wide-eyed stare. Those blue eyes traced down Regan's body, then back up before Emma promptly dropped her gaze pointedly to the floor.

"Regan! Why did you call me out here? You're naked!"

Shaking herself out of her stupor, Regan glanced down at herself to double-check before she defended, "I am not."

She wasn't; she was wearing one of her favorite lingerie sets. A lacy purple pair that showcased her breasts as best as possible. However, as she looked at Emma's, she felt very humbled.

Amused, she took a closer look at Emma. "Are you blushing ?"

"Well, you called me out here so that I could apparently look at you in your underwear," Emma scolded, her tone scalding. "Which – you know we need to leave in like five minutes, right?"

"I know, that's why I called for you. Come," she ordered, waving Emma to follow her into her room.

Emma sighed before several seconds passed… and finally, she followed into Regan's room.

She still was pointedly avoiding looking at Regan, though, she noted with no small amount of amusement. Instead, Emma was intently peering around at her bedroom.

"I thought you'd be way more chill about seeing a woman in her underwear, given that you're bisexual and all. I've literally met your ex-girlfriend," she pointed out, poking Emma lightly in the arm. She frowned as the thought hit her. "Wait, are you asexual?"

Emma aimed a frown in her general direction. "No, I'm not. But," she tipped her head back, sighing at the ceiling. "On an average day, I don't see women… especially like you… walking around like this."

It was Regan's turn to frown – women like her ?

"Women like me?" She echoed.

Yes, the blush on Emma's cheeks most definitely deepened as she steadfastly avoided looking at Regan. "Mhmm."

"Who are women like me ?" She pressed, taking a step closer to Emma. "Women you've lived with? Baristas? Your friends? Your ex-nemeses? Your–"

"Women who look like they've stepped out of a lingerie ad, literally wearing that lingerie," Emma explained, her voice tight as she frowned down at the clothing options on the bed.

Whatever other goading words Regan was going to say fell back down her throat as she felt herself flush, butterflies erupting in her stomach. Again, she gave a cursory glance down at her own body, before looking back at Emma. "You think I look like I could have stepped out of a lingerie ad?"

Emma finally looked at her, exasperated. "Are you fishing for compliments?"

Equally exasperated, Regan tossed her hands up into the air. "No! That was the last thing I expected you to say."

"Regan, look at yourself," Emma retorted, her forehead crinkling in what looked like genuine confusion. "You look… good."

Regan did look back down at herself. Even though she was never shy around her own nudity, she felt – well, she felt different in this moment, as her stomach squirmed pleasantly. "I guess I'm just used to standing next to Sutton," she murmured without thinking too much about it.

But the first time they'd gone to buy bras and underwear by themselves as teenagers was a memory Regan could easily recall. Sutton had emerged from her fitting room, far more self-conscious than Regan, but utterly statuesque.

"You're both thin and very… traditionally attractive," Emma said quietly, still clearly baffled, even as she was still blushing.

Regan rolled her lips. "I mean, I know that. But – look. Spending my entire life standing next to Sutton, who's tall and has all her muscle tone and flame-red hair… people notice Sutton first. Even I do," she added with a self-deprecating laugh.

Saying that aloud made her stomach churn unpleasantly, especially when Emma stared at her as if she was trying to read Regan's mind.

"Anyway," Regan cleared her throat uncomfortably – wow, did her texts with her sister really did get into her head so easily or something? "I am ready – except for the outfit." She made a sweeping gesture at her bed, where her top contenders were laid out.

Emma slowly dropped her gaze from Regan's face, and Regan wasn't sure she'd ever be so pleased that Emma was ingrained to never pry. She stared at the clothing on the bed, her expression scrunching up adorably. "Regan, you're the one doing me a favor. Wear whatever you want."

But Regan shook her head. "No way! We're doing this as a ruse for your family, and I won't half-ass it. If I'm going to full-ass it, I need your input on what will impress the most."

Grandly, she gestured to the clothing closest to the head of the bed. "We have option number one: the dark blue sundress with the flowers on it."

"It doesn't really feel like you ," Emma commented, staring down at the dress with a skeptical look.

Regan studied Emma's profile, surprise sliding through her. "That's because it's not; this is Sutton's dress. I think it reads: yes, I'm dating your daughter, but I'm a very sweet girl. Don't worry, I don't do unspeakable things to her at night ."

The color rose high on Emma's cheeks at that before she vehemently shook her head. "Not that dress."

Regan pulled her lips to the side, nodding in agreement. "All right; so we aren't going for a politician's daughter."

"No, and we aren't going for option number three, either," Emma vetoed as she eyed the mint green cocktail dress. "It looks like we're going to a five-star restaurant instead of my mom's house in the New Jersey suburbs. Unless that's what you want to wear, of course."

Regan shook her head. "No, I just wanted to have every option available. Granted, the one meeting I had with your mom didn't really make it seem like she'd be super… fancy."

She thought about the woman who had shown up on her doorstep with the short skirt and animal print blouse. Yeah, okay, that dress would definitely be overkill.

"The one in the middle is good; it looks like you," Emma commented, looking at the winning pick.

It was one of Regan's summer usuals – denim shorts and a band tee – and she found a sweet warmth moving through her at Emma's comment. Emma's comment clearly hadn't even been intended to be a compliment, but Regan felt like it was one.

Moving quickly – they were on a deadline – she tugged on the outfit. "Thanks."

Finally, Emma looked at her. "For helping you pick out clothing?"

Breathing out a slightly embarrassed laugh, Regan shook her head. "For wanting me to be… me."

The blush on Emma's cheeks deepened as she cleared her throat. "It's not a big deal. In terms of what you're doing for me, it's miniscule."

It wasn't to Regan, but she wouldn't push it.

"Uh, anyway. The car is outside." Emma held up her phone, where the app informed them that their driver was waiting.

"In that case, you might want to button up your own shirt," Regan commented, letting her eyes drift down to her cleavage once more. "Unless you planned on wearing it that way to your mom's house."

Emma's gaze darted down to her top before she cursed under her breath. She shot Regan a dark look as she quickly brought her hands up to do up enough buttons to cover up her bra. "I got distracted from dressing myself to help someone else ."

Regan merely shot her an unbothered grin. "I wasn't complaining."

Emma had already turned on her heel. "Let's go before the driver leaves."

Audrey L. Gallagher – 5:20 PM

You KNOW I hate when you do that thumbs-up response. Can you acknowledge my message like an adult? Are you coming to brunch?

Regan stared dismally down at her phone in her lap as their Uber set off through their neighborhood toward Englewood.

Regan – 5:21 PM

Yep.

And because Regan hated when her sister talked to her like she was a misbehaving pet instead of a person, she reacted to Audrey's text with another thumbs up before turning off text notifications and sliding her phone under her thigh as she stared out the car window.

It felt… weird texting with Audrey this much. Twice in the last month – even if the messages were Audrey not being particularly nice to her – was discomforting. It went against the distance they'd both put between them, and she didn't like it.

"Are you still okay about doing this?" Emma asked, her voice quiet and intent.

Regan turned to look at Emma in confusion. "Yeah? Why? Because I'm being quiet for once?"

She'd intended for the words to be joking, but she winced as soon as she said them aloud.

All right, so maybe Audrey's text – and the subsequent weird feelings – had made her a little… sharp.

"Sorry," she sighed, folding her arms around her waist, not offering any further explanation.

Not only did she not want to get into talking about her sister at all , but she was also still treading lightly on certain topics with Emma. The last thing she wanted when she was trying to completely win Emma over was to let her know that Regan's own family totally agreed with every negative belief Emma had ever held about her.

Emma's eyebrows furrowed as she watched Regan closely before she shook her head. "Honestly, it's fine. I've said way worse to you," she added, tilting her lips in a teasing smile.

It made Regan chuckle, breaking through her weird mood. "True. I take my apology back because I believe in a level playing field."

Now, Emma laughed, but she still watched Regan closely. Disarmingly closely. "I was asking because you're the one who told me you love partaking in a little scheme, so I figured you'd be more excited right now. In the last two days, you've texted me four times about our relationship details . And that's not even counting how you spent last night making a batch of cookies because you didn't want to show up empty-handed tonight."

Regan tilted her head in acknowledgment. "True and fair points."

"Listen, if you aren't up to this, it's not too late. We can go back home, and I can tell Kimberly that you aren't feeling well," Emma offered.

The eagerness in her voice snagged Regan's attention, and she shifted to face Emma in the back of the car. "Why do I get the feeling that you'd like that you'd like to do that more than I would?"

Emma's generous lips drew together tightly, and she turned away from Regan's gaze to look out the window.

Her own family issues completely pushed aside, Regan couldn't help the question that escaped her. "Can I ask – what is the story here? Between you and your mom?"

She knew that Emma didn't want to talk about it; Emma was the way she was because she valued her privacy so deeply. Regan had accepted that about her – finally – given everything that had happened since they'd moved in together.

But, god , she was so fucking curious. Since the morning Kimberly had shown up on their doorstep weeks ago, she'd been ravenous for the truth.

"I'm not asking because of, like, wanting to gossip or anything like that," she swore. "This stays between you and me – all of it. Even if you don't tell me the whole story."

She really hoped Emma could hear her sincerity because it was all true.

Regan had taken some of what Emma had said to heart. She did like to gossip – not out of malice, but because she loved a good story, and she loved regaling them to others. But she understood that Emma didn't like people knowing her personal business, and she could honor that.

She had been honoring that.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I get it; family stuff can be complicated." With the texts from Audrey sitting on her phone, Regan really, really understood the truth of that statement. "But I want you to know, especially before we see your family, that I haven't said anything about this to anyone. Not even to Sutton."

And she'd really, really wanted to tell Sutton; she told Sutton just about everything. And Sutton had been texting very regularly, pointedly asking how everything was going with Emma, so it had taken Regan more than a little restraint to hold back.

As Emma slid her gaze from the passing cityscape to Regan, she fully expected to not get an answer.

"You're right – I don't have to tell you," Emma allowed, several seconds later, seeming as if she'd come to terms with some internal debate. "But you are going out of your way to help me out, which you've been doing since the second you've been thrown into this mess. You didn't have to do any of this, but here you are." She used her hand to gesture at Regan, up and down.

Regan found herself sitting at attention, eager anticipation working through her. She was so, so wanting to know, she was practically vibrating with excitement.

Emma's dark eyebrows drew together as she took a deep breath. "My mom had me when she was fifteen," she began, and Regan's eyebrows shot up in surprise – not where she'd expected the story to start.

Then again, as she pictured Kimberly, she could easily connect the image with this information.

"My grandpa – her dad – had died the year before that, and she… obviously, didn't handle it that well." Emma shrugged. "So, she was not ready for me, in any way."

Regan nodded. "Sure. What teenager could be?"

"Exactly. So, we lived with my gram, and Gram… well, she did everything for me. She's amazing," Emma informed Regan so seriously, and with such warmth in her voice Regan couldn't help but smile.

"Makes sense why you're more worried about what she thinks about me than what your mom thinks, then," she commented without any bite. Regardless of that being the starting point of their argument, Regan understood the root of it now, at least.

Emma's face was full of consternation as she hummed softly, clearly thinking over what to say next.

Regan almost told her that she didn't have to say anything more, now that she understood the fundamental aspects. But like hell was she going to stop Emma from sharing with her, not when she was so ready to soak up every drop of information.

"Kimberly… was unreliable, I guess, is the best way to say it. She'd dropped out of high school and lived with us, on and off. And when she was there, it was – it could be great," Emma whispered, and Regan wasn't sure if Emma even realized it.

"Like when she took you for bagels at the deli," Regan slipped in quietly, thinking about Kimberly clutching those bagels like a lifeline.

Emma blinked several times as if coming back to reality in the back of the car. "Right. Anyway. If she wasn't with Gram and me, she was staying with some guy. Kimberly always had a… sketchy dating life. But when I was thirteen, she met Ted. And I don't know what it was about him or if she was just finally ready , but – she grew up. They got married when I was fourteen, and he got offered a job in Miami soon after that."

She gave these details perfunctorily, as if she'd decided that she'd given enough emotion into the story.

Regan was completely invested as she found herself scooting closer to Emma. "You didn't go with her," she filled in expectantly.

Emma snorted with laughter. "Uh, no." Still, the look on her face grew pensive as she quietly said, "She asked me if I would, if I'd even consider it. A lot . But I didn't want to; I couldn't imagine living away from my gram, and I'd already started high school. So, she went with Ted. Then she had my sisters."

Regan blinked, shaking her head as she held up a hand to hit pause. "Wait – there are going to be sisters there tonight?" Had she known this? She didn't think so.

Confused amusement etched into Emma's expression. "Yes. Eva's twelve, and Everly's… eight? Yeah, eight."

"Are they fun?" Regan asked.

"I don't really know," Emma admitted after a few beats. "I'm not close to them. Obviously."

Contrite, Regan nodded. "Obviously."

Emma shrugged, exhaling deeply. "I've only ever met them a couple of times, whenever my mom brought them up here for visits. But they all moved up here in March. And Kimberly's been… intent… on trying to bond ever since." Emma turned to stare intently out the window once more as she murmured, "And you saw about how well that went when she came to the apartment."

Regan had a million more questions. She wanted to know everything , and questions nearly spilled past her lips.

But, as she looked closely at Emma, the anxiety she was feeling was clear as day. And Regan found that the questions she would normally ask fell right back down her throat.

She didn't need verbal confirmation to tell her what she could see with her own eyes.

They arrived only minutes later, and they both came to a halting stop on the sidewalk as soon as the Uber drove away behind them.

Regan gave a low whistle as she stared up at the house before them. The home itself was sprawling, with a large, well-maintained front lawn and a long stone walkway in front of them, leading up to the front door.

"So… I didn't expect a McMansion to be our final destination," she finally said, turning to look at Emma as she gestured up at the house.

Emma's expression was grim as she made no move to conquer the walkway up to the front door. "Yeah. Me, neither."

The emotion in her words made Regan wince as she dragged her gaze back to the house. "I'd expected something… different."

Maybe she'd been relying too heavily on stereotypes based on how Kimberly dressed and how much makeup she'd worn. Which, no judgment on Regan's part! But Regan had grown up in a neighborhood very similar to this one, and none of her neighbors styled themselves the way Kimberly had.

Also, there'd been that whole thing about how Emma hadn't been able to afford the Alton Writing Fellowship, so she'd made some assumptions about money…

Which this home did not align with.

Emma sighed, capturing Regan's attention once more. She watched as Emma swallowed heavily… and still made no attempt to move closer to the house.

"You know, we haven't even knocked yet," Regan lowered her voice conspiratorially. "We don't have to."

Finally, Emma's stare tore away from the house to blink down at Regan in confusion. "What?"

She wiggled her eyebrows as she whispered, "We can go. Call another Uber. Go get a pizza. Hang out at home. I'll let you pick the entertainment tonight, even though I'm terrified of what you might choose."

Last weekend, when Regan had extended Emma the option of picking what they'd watch for the first time since starting their hangouts, Emma had simply shrugged and informed Regan that she didn't watch many shows or movies. When Regan pressed, baffled, Emma had informed her that she'd been so busy between school and work in the last few years, she hadn't kept up with anything current, and she hadn't wanted to pay for any subscriptions.

Terrifying, really.

Emma rolled her eyes, scoffing out a laugh as she pushed Regan's shoulder with her own.

And that reaction – so normal, a little bit of color returning to Emma's cheeks – gave Regan a rush of relief.

"No. It's fine. We're here. We're finally here. Now, we just go in and… it won't be so bad, probably," Emma muttered as she returned her attention to the imposing Stepford-like home in front of them.

"It won't be," Regan assured her. "I'll be here with you the whole time, running general interference. I'll be the best buffer you've ever seen. When we go in there, we're a team," she promised. She didn't hesitate as she offered Emma her hand. "Thom and Geri?"

Emma laughed, staring at Regan for a few seconds as she slid her fingers firmly and warmly between Regan's. "Thom and Geri."