Chapter 20

twenty

"No, no." Brynn waved away Emma when she attempted to put her credit card down to pay for their dinner bill. "This is on me."

Narrowing her eyes, Emma didn't give in so easily. "Come on. We can at least split it."

Brynn slid her card into the holder and closed the book on it with a snap . "Nope. I got it. Because my number got called today, Emma, and I am passing on some of my good fortune."

At that, Emma acquiesced. "The entertainment department isn't going to know what hit it."

A triumphant grin played on Brynn's mouth. "Thank you very much. I'll miss you, though, and your very serious attitude, and the way you pretend not to text your roommate throughout the day."

Emma's stomach clenched, and she quickly reached for her martini glass. As it was, there was only a sip left, but it was worth it to throw back and not think about Regan. "Well, you still have a few weeks left with me."

"Then you'll have to be in charge of showing Allegra's new assistant around," Brynn continued, blessedly not mentioning her roommate again. "But if they get too annoying, you can always come and visit me in entertainment. Only a couple floors away."

"You're too kind," Emma dryly replied, shaking her head.

Brynn had gotten the good news from Allegra at the end of the workday. Because she was going to be utilizing Emma during the final round of Alton Fellowship interviews for the next couple of weeks, Brynn's promotion wouldn't officially happen until the end of August, but it was in motion.

It was a double-edged sword, watching Brynn level up and get moved to a different department, with far more writing in her future. Emma was happy for her, really. Plus, it was living, breathing proof that if Emma put in her time and performed to her best ability, it would pay off. Eventually. But damn if it didn't make Emma burn inside for that eventually to become a reality.

"Thanks, by the way," Brynn commented, taking Emma out of her thoughts. "For coming to celebrate with me after work."

Emma stared across the small table at her, her eyebrows knitting in confusion. "You literally got promoted today." Rolling her lips, she debated whether or not she should say her next thought, but – what the hell. "And I really do consider you somewhat of a friend."

Brynn stared back at her, an absurd laugh bubbling up. "Really? Somewhat of a friend?"

Embarrassed, Emma shrugged. "Well, a work friend. Look, I don't make friends super easily. So, somewhat of a friend in such a short time, coming from me, is actually an accomplishment."

Damningly, she could see Regan so clearly in her mind's eye. See Regan losing her shit and absolutely cackling at Emma, even as she was positive Regan would also be, well, proud of Emma.

Even more damningly, that felt good.

Sobering, Brynn nodded. "Yeah, that doesn't shock me. I mean, I invited you out to come grab drinks or dinner after work, like, three times in May after you started, and you never said yes. Hence, my surprise and appreciation that you joined me tonight, regardless of the promotion."

Tapping her fingers lightly against her thighs, Emma thought over Brynn's words. "I guess it's also been brought to my attention this summer that I don't always give people a chance. And... I don't necessarily like that."

The revelation was occurring to her as she was speaking it aloud, surprising her along with Brynn.

But it was true.

Emma didn't know at what point she'd decided to close herself off from most new people and experiences, approaching everything and everyone with critical caution; it wasn't even something she'd done consciously.

If the last couple of months had proven anything to her, though, it was that she really could be surprised by people, if she was willing to give just a little bit. Kimberly, who'd taken to texting Emma in very reasonable doses, to the point that she didn't even feel stressed by seeing her mom's name appear on her phone.

But… mostly Regan.

I like you, in the real girlfriend kind of way , Regan's confession from yesterday played in her mind. Just like it had in bits and pieces all day long.

Squeezing her eyes closed, Emma effectively stopped her mind from summoning any of Regan's other notable lines. Nope, no, she wasn't going to do it. She wasn't going to let herself hear it again, to let those words tie her up in giddily-stressed conflicted knots.

This wasn't about Regan's attraction to her or Regan's – Regan's feelings for her; what she was saying to Brynn was simply about Regan, herself.

It was about the fact that Emma had done her best to write Regan off as a person, when in reality, Regan had turned out to be someone Emma deeply enjoyed spending time with. It was about the fact that Emma had relied for far too long on a default setting to find Regan frustrating, rather than allow herself to see any of the good parts in her.

It was about the fact that Regan had so much… depth. So much going on inside of her very active mind, that she felt so deeply, that she observed everything around her, and Emma would have never been able to experience any of it, if she'd stayed so insistent on closing her out.

Dear god, Emma needed to stop letting Regan derail her thoughts.

She refocused on Brynn, who was studying her with an arched eyebrow. "Huh. And this newfound sense of growth wouldn't have anything to do with the roommate-not-girlfriend situation, right?"

Emma felt her cheeks flame, and instinctively, she wanted to shut down in self-defense. But, she took a deep breath and pushed through it. "I don't really think that's relevant to what I'm saying. Which is, really, just me reiterating to you that I'd like us to be… friends."

Brynn signed the receipt their waiter had just dropped off with a flourish. "I, too, would like that." She slipped her credit card back into her purse. "I also wouldn't mind getting more updates about the Regan situation, but I can wait until we're more than somewhat friends for that."

The craziest thing, really, was that Emma wanted to confess it all to Brynn, as they gathered their items and stood.

Mostly because… well, Emma felt like she was going crazy with this new development in her life, and she couldn't talk to anyone about it. Sutton felt off-limits for obvious reasons –

– like, Regan hadn't even talked to Sutton about all of this?! Regan Gallagher, the woman that told her best friend everything, the woman that loved to gossip, the woman that simply loved to share , hadn't talked to Sutton about the very major life experiences she was having? Out of respect for Emma?

It was craziness. It was unexpected. It was… it was so, so, achingly thoughtful and sweet and it made Emma's heart flutter every damn time she thought about it.

Her gram was off-limits, because obviously , she was under the impression that Emma and Regan were already together.

Regan – because somehow, someway, Regan had become a top contender on Emma's list of people to confide in about her life?! – was clearly, unquestionably not the person to try to sort out her thoughts with.

So, even though she very much hadn't intended on to, she found herself asking, "Have you ever been just so – bowled over by someone that you don't even know what to do with them? What to think about them, how to act with them?"

Brynn stumbled to a stop, snapping her head around to stare at Emma with wide eyes. "I didn't think you were actually going to tell me?"

Embarrassed – this was why she didn't like to discuss anything personal. Because people's reactions got… weird, and, in turn, made Emma feel so freaking self-conscious – she gritted her teeth and nudged Brynn forward to keep walking rather than draw attention where they still stood in the middle of the restaurant.

"I didn't know I was going to," she muttered, making sure to keep her voice low so that none of the people at nearby tables who were now watching them with interest could hear anything.

Emma didn't feel like she knew anything, anymore. She'd barely found her center after that kiss last week, and now, following yesterday's confession, she had no idea where center even was, anymore.

As soon as they exited the restaurant and were out in the open evening air, Brynn turned around to face Emma, clearly brimming with anticipation. "All right – hit me. I've been dying for you to actually delve into something personal since we started working together."

Again, that reason alone made Emma want to not , like a turtle sliding back into its shell.

But… no. She needed this. She needed to voice it aloud, to another human being. Or she might very well explode.

"To set the record straight for you – Regan and I really are just roommates ," she stressed, to make that point very clear. "There hasn't been… romantic drama or whatever you think has been going on all summer."

Brynn scoffed, crossing her arms. "So, what you're all wrapped up in knots over right now is…?"

Reluctantly, Emma admitted, "Slightly romantic drama. We've… there's been…" God, she regretted this already, and she reached up to rub intently at her temple. "A single kiss. And a single night of cuddling. And a – a confession of feelings. Hers ," she quickly clarified, and her stomach twisted and turned at the memory yet again.

Brynn's eagerness was written all over her face. "Please, I am begging you to continue."

But this was where Emma got tripped up. This was where the external facts stopped coming into play, and where Emma's internal feelings came into play. Where all of her conflict was. Where she found herself so… tongue-tied.

She'd never been so relieved about her phone starting to ring in her life as she was in this moment.

Regan? She wondered, and then immediately wondered how she'd feel about that.

To her disappointed relief, though, it was Gram's name on the screen.

"Actually, I need to answer this," she held her phone up as evidence to get her out of this conundrum.

Brynn tossed her arms in the air. "You're really going to leave me on this cliffhanger?"

Hesitating before she answered the call, she shook her head and forced logic to return. "It's not a cliffhanger; it's just… normal life that got a little complicated. Slightly longer story made short – we're still just roommates."

As her phone continued to ring, she thought of how poorly her gram had felt yesterday, and she flashed another look toward Brynn. "I'm sorry for cutting this long goodbye a little short, but I do need to answer this call. Thank you, again, for dinner, and congrats, again, on the promotion."

Brynn stared widely at her, before chuckling disbelievingly. "You owe me a real resolution to this tale. But, thanks and you're welcome, and I'll see you tomorrow."

Emma waved, solidifying the farewell, as soon as she answered the call, "Hey, Gram. How are you feeling?"

"I'm perfectly fine. Really, Em, I spent a little too much time in the heat – that was all. I'm back to normal today," Gram assured her.

Emma started walking in the direction of her apartment. The restaurant Brynn had wanted to try was, luckily, far closer to Emma's home than it was to work. Only a few blocks away, actually.

She frowned in consideration, before she hesitantly determined that her Gram's tone sounded genuine. "Okay, good. I still think you should tell Doctor Visentine at your appointment next week, though."

Gram loftily sighed. "Yes, I will."

In the brief lull of conversation, Emma heard sound in the background. Eyebrows furrowed in confusion, she tried to focus… but it didn't sound like the television. "Are you having a party over there or something?" She asked, jokingly.

Only, her gram's voice wasn't joking when she answered, "No, it's not a party. Just Phoebe and Bea, the women we played bingo with."

Emma nearly tripped over her feet in utter shock. "What?"

"When we played bingo a few weeks ago–" Gram started.

"No, I remember them," Emma interjected. "I just don't understand what's going on right now. Is it… bingo night again?" She tried to guess.

"Ah, no. We're all in my suite; I really tried to teach them how to play some games out in the common area, but… the card table makes all the difference," Gram informed Emma, as if Emma didn't know how seriously her gram took cards, and the significance of the table.

That wasn't what surprised her, though.

"I – that's really great, Gram." Emma tried to contain her excitement at the prospect of her grandmother making friends, because she knew Gram would fucking hate to feel infantilized.

"Yeah," her gram's terse agreement confirmed that sentiment. She cleared her throat. "We're about to start a game of bridge, but I just needed for you to ask Regan if it was all right if I give her information out to someone here? Her cookies have been an absolute hit, and one of the women that works the front desk wanted to know if she'd be interested in baking something for her husband's retirement party next month. I tried to get a hold of her, first, but she wasn't answering. And you know how I don't trust texting important information."

Narrowing her eyes, Emma tried to think over the details of bringing her gram back to Primrose Grove yesterday. "Sure, I can pass the question on." Unable to help herself, Emma pressed, "I just – I don't remember packing any of Regan's desserts with us to take home yesterday?"

In Emma's memory, Regan's desserts had been completely decimated by the end of the party.

"Oh, not those cookies," Gram dismissed. "The ones we baked today, here. With Phoebe and Bea."

"We're the ones that told Sherry here to give one to Cindy at the check-in desk!" Emma heard another voice shout in the background. "I know that woman has a giant sweet tooth, and she doesn't shut up about her husband's impending retirement!"

"The cookies… that you baked today ," Emma stressed, as her mind tried desperately to process this information. "With Phoebe and Bea. And Regan."

"Yes, Emma," Gram confirmed, as if Emma was being obtuse. "And you can let Regan know that she doesn't need to do any of your bidding or running interference again. Not that I don't appreciate it," she added, warmth entering her tone. "But it worked. So, you can officially stop worrying about my being lonely."

"I can officially stop worrying," Emma dimly echoed, but she wasn't sure her brain and her mouth were connected, right now.

Because… what in the world was going on ?

"I have to go, but please pass the question on. I wouldn't make it such a big deal, but apparently Cindy would like to talk to Regan as early as tomorrow, if possible."

"Right, sure. Love you."

"Love you, too," Gram returned, before hanging up the phone. So that she could return to her evening of being social .

Regan had gone to visit her gram today, apparently. She'd taken the time and effort to go to Astoria to bake cookies with Emma's grandmother, while – apparently – being the conduit for Gram to make friends with other residents.

Gram assumed this was Regan doing Emma's bidding, but Emma knew better. She knew very well that she hadn't asked Regan to do any such thing; Regan had already gone above and beyond doing so much for Emma regarding her family, already.

So above and beyond, in fact, Regan now had feelings for Emma. How was that for taking her job seriously?

Emma's mind was spinning, and her emotions felt so all over the place right now, that all she could do as she unlocked the door to the apartment was desperately hope Regan either wasn't home or was already in her own bedroom for the night.

Because she couldn't handle seeing and talking to Regan, right now. She couldn't handle it, because Emma couldn't handle her own feelings. She didn't even know what these feelings were.

Or… more aptly, they terrified her.

She cautiously walked into their apartment, shutting and locking the door behind her.

Slowly, she walked into the living room and didn't even realize she was holding her breath… until she walked in to see that Regan wasn't sitting there, waiting for her. That Regan wasn't in the living room or the kitchen. She wasn't waiting for Emma to come home, pouncing on her –

Emma shook her head sharply at the imagery that word invoked.

Emma had expected that Regan would be waiting on tenterhooks for Emma to return home. Wanting to talk about Regan's confession yesterday, maybe. Or maybe wanting to move past it, and excitedly telling Emma to get ready to dive into a new season of The One . Or wanting to tell Emma all about her day – about how she'd apparently spent part of that day with her gram.

Yet… nothing.

Regan wasn't waiting for her, with that boundless energy and addictive smile.

Which was the best-case scenario, Emma forcefully reminded herself. This was precisely what she'd hoped for – some space from Regan so she could figure out how to deal with everything. How to deal with this major change in her reality.

Unfortunately, that reminder didn't do anything to combat the disappointment she felt.

She had been stressing all day about how she would come home to Regan this evening and have no idea how to handle it. No idea how to handle Regan wearing her tiny little shorts and have her dark hair all tousled and tossed in a ponytail to get it out of her way while she cooked. No idea how to handle the excitement that Regan never tried to disguise as soon as Emma entered the room.

And now that she didn't have those things, she was upset about it.

"Jesus christ," Emma swore at herself, because she was so utterly fucked. Her carefully ordered life was starting to crumble around her, and she had no idea how to pause it.

With a deep breath, she walked down the hall toward her room. A night without Regan being home was great, she tried to convince herself. She could take a long, relaxing bath. She could finish reading the book she'd started on Friday… when she'd been waiting for Regan to come home…

But, where was Regan? It wasn't like she'd texted Emma to let her know she was going to be out late, so –

"Oh my god ."

Emma froze with her hand on the doorknob to her bedroom, as she heard those muffled words come from Regan's room.

Swiftly, she turned around to face Regan's closed door. Regan was home, then. And was… in her room? This early? It wasn't even eight o'clock. What –

A long, throaty moan reached Emma's ears, followed by the very distinct sound of panting breaths.

"Yes, fuck," she heard next, and that was most definitely Regan's voice.

The realization of what was happening in Regan's room had Emma's heart start to race, her blood rushing in her ears, and she quickly turned to go into her room, only to bang her head right into the door, as she'd forgotten that she hadn't already opened it.

Emma couldn't even feel the dull ache on her forehead, as she stood, numb, in the middle of her bedroom.

There was no denying the fact that Regan was in her room right across the hall, having sex right now. The moans were undeniable, the vocalizations growing louder and more frequent by the fucking second, and Emma could hear every single moment , even with her door closed!

As quickly as she'd entered, Emma turned and literally ran back down the hallway and into the kitchen, where she hadn't been able to hear anything.

She braced her hands on the sink, trying to take deep breaths, and sort through the barrage of feelings swamping her.

The voice – that had definitely been Regan. It had been distinctly her voice, even if Emma had never heard her sound like that, before. So… wanton and raspy and needy and –

She swallowed hard, shaking her head and trying to stop the arousal that shot through her. Regan had sounded fucking hot, though, and there was no denying that, and Emma kept hearing it.

Yes, fuck. Yes, fuck. Yes, fuck .

The only thing that worked to stop this feeling from taking over was the fact that Regan was in there, having sex with someone else. Maybe a woman? If Emma had to judge based on those moans that she'd kept hearing in her room.

What the hell was that about?

Just yesterday, Regan was holding Emma's hand, professing to have such serious feelings for her, telling Emma that she was the only person that had ever made her feel this way, and today she was – she was in their apartment, having sex with someone?!

Emma needed to get out of here.

Yes, that was the only thing that made sense.

Her wallet and phone were… somewhere. In her room, maybe? Emma didn't remember dropping them on her dresser in their usual spot, but she didn't have them in her pockets, so she must have done so.

No way in hell was she going back down that hall, though, so –

She turned, ready to flee the apartment with only her keys…

Only to come face-to-face with Regan.

Who seemed to notice her at the same time, coming to an abrupt halt as she walked into the kitchen. "Emma!"

Her voice was high and still slightly out of breath, and everything inside of Emma was at war deciding if she was more turned on by that fact or upset by it.

Regan's cheeks were flushed – glowing , even, and Emma's stomach turned – and her hair was messy with obvious bedhead. She stood in front of Emma in only a black sports bra and a tiny pair of cotton shorts, something she'd very obviously just thrown on.

"Hmm," was all she could manage in return, with her heart in her throat.

God, what was wrong with her?

Regan could do whatever she wanted; she could have sex with anyone she wanted, especially in her own home, in her own room. It was none of Emma's business.

And still, it didn't stop her from feeling like it was, and Emma hated this. She hated it, desperately.

"I… ha," Regan chuckled, and it was the most uncomfortable Emma had ever seen her. "I, uh, didn't realize you were home, yet."

"Just got here," she replied, shortly. She felt breathless, herself.

"Great!" Regan nodded with the word, eyes brightening. "Good. Great. That's good. I was just coming to get a glass of water."

"I bet," Emma murmured, because after those throaty moans, she could only imagine that Regan was parched.

She very deliberately side-stepped away from the sink as Regan approached. She could not – could. Not. – touch Regan right now. Couldn't handle Regan sidling up to her all casual and brushing her bare, warm – probably still slightly sweaty – skin against any part of Emma's body.

Regan seemed to feel the same way, which rang another alarm bell in Emma's mind. She walked with hesitation over to the cabinet with the glasses, pushing up on her tiptoes, and Emma stared at Regan's bare back, and she – she wanted .

She knew how soft Regan's skin was, now. She'd felt it, right under her hands, when they'd woken up together only two and a half days ago. She'd always found Regan ridiculously, irritatingly attractive, and now it was so much more .

The sheerly physical aspect was more intense, now, because she lived with her. Because she saw Regan every day, touched her every day, was touched by her. They'd kissed and snuggled, and she smelled Regan's shampoo in the shower, permeating through her entire fucking being. There was no escape!

Even beyond that, though, this was so much more than the physical, now. Emma could contain a physical reaction; she could manage that. But Regan was… she was smart and funny and chaotic and she tried so hard and Emma liked it. She liked her , so fucking much.

"I'm just, you know, going to go back to my room. Long day," Regan murmured softly, her cheeks pink as she glanced at Emma, before glancing away as she started to close the cabinet.

"Right," she replied, annoyed at herself by how short she sounded. Yet, she couldn't help it.

And Regan was blushing ? Going back to her room, seemingly for the night, so early? Was she embarrassed about having someone in her room? Did it make her feel as weird as Emma felt right now?

When Regan turned toward the sink holding only one glass, Emma couldn't help but ask, "You don't need another one?"

Ugh, she squeezed her eyes closed, irritation flashing through her. At both herself, and Regan, and she felt crazy !

Regan paused, slowly turning back to face Emma. "What are you talking about? And why are you being like this?"

"Why are you being like this?" She countered, feeling childish and petty, but the words were out before she could stop them.

Regan stared at her, incredulously. " Huh ?"

Emma gestured at Regan, feeling the words bubble up in her throat. "You're blushing and avoiding looking at me, and I heard you when I came home. Obviously, you have someone in your room, and you feel… embarrassed, or whatever. And – that's fine. Because you thought I wasn't going to be home tonight. But… but…"

But what ? Emma couldn't think rationally right now, for the first time in her entire adult life.

All she could think about were the sounds Regan had made, and how aroused Emma had been by it, and the fact that it ate her up inside, knowing that they'd been made for someone else.

Regan's mouth fell open in obvious surprise. "You think that I was having sex, just now? With someone else? That ' s why you're being all grumbly with me right now?"

Emma crossed her arms, as if the action could help contain all of these messy feelings inside of her. "Well – fine. Yeah. So what? Just yesterday , you told me you have serious feelings for me."

"And you didn't say it back!" Regan shot back, gesturing widely at Emma with palpable desperation. "You're the one that said we can't kiss again, that this – you and me – isn't happening."

Emma felt the truth of that burn through her, heating her face in an embarrassed blush.

"You can't hold it against me if I date or sleep with other people, after you turned me down, Emma," Regan sharply informed her, and there was a hoarseness in her tone. Something hurt that Emma could hear, and with it, Emma deflated, feeling the prickling feeling of causing Regan any pain digging right into her. "I might be able to keep going on as normal as possible with you, but I do have feelings, and I'm trying to process through them the same as you are."

Still embarrassed and still not knowing what to fucking do with herself, Emma dropped her head into both of her hands. "I know. I know, Regan, and I'm sorry ."

She was; truly, deeply sorry. Sorry about everything; she didn't even know, anymore.

"If you care that I'm having sex with someone else, all you have to do is tell me. If I shouldn't be on dating apps anymore, then all you have to do is say it." Regan's tone was searching, pulling at something inside of Emma. Threatening to make her unravel.

Emma shook her head, though, forcing herself to lift her face up and actually look at Regan. "I don't have the right to say that, I just–"

She hadn't realized Regan had walked closer to her. Hadn't realized that Regan was only inches away, still only wearing the bare minimum stiches of clothing required to not be completely naked, while her body was still flushed and, dear god, Emma's hands shook with want.

"I'm telling you that you have the right to say it," Regan's voice dipped so low, it skittered down Emma's spine and landed squarely between her legs. Reminding her that the wetness she'd felt from hearing Regan hadn't gone away. "If you tell me that you have feelings for me, too, then you have the right."

Emma's lips trembled open, and she couldn't find any words that she was able to say aloud. Not while her heart was beating so hard in her chest and this heat wound through her, so demanding.

While everything inside of her screamed to tell Regan that yes , she had feelings for her – intense, strong feelings – but it was so complicated, and –

"God damn it, Emma, I'm going to break my word to you, and I'm sorry, but I just can't…" Regan murmured, her dark eyes – so intense – flicking from Emma's mouth to her eyes, then back again.

And Emma's mind went blissfully blank as Regan surged onto her tiptoes and wrapped her arm around Emma's neck to tug her down. She didn't have to tug hard, though, because Emma was so willing.

Regan's body surged against hers, and Emma couldn't fight against it, anymore. She wrapped her arms around Regan's waist, her hands tingling at the contact with Regan's smooth, bare skin, groaning low into her mouth as she returned the kiss, matching Regan's intensity.

Somewhere, dimly in the back of her mind, she was well aware that there was no going back from this.

And, as Regan's tongue flicked over her bottom lip, she couldn't bring herself to care at all.