Chapter 2

two

When Regan's phone buzzed with a text, she stopped in the middle of the grocery store pasta aisle and snatched her phone from where she'd left it in the carriage.

Sutton had told her she was going to call today, and Regan was so excited to –

Oh.

Audrey L. Gallagher – 10:00 AM

The dress fitting for my bridal shower is a week from Tuesday – Opal's Bridal Boutique in the West Village, at ten. Be there by nine forty-five.

Regan grimaced down at her phone. Her sister even texted on the hour.

For a few seconds, she debated not even answering; after all, Audrey wasn't looking for Regan's response. She never was. Not really.

Heaving a sigh, she typed back solely because she knew she wouldn't hear the end of it if she didn't.

Regan – 10:01 AM

Yeah… you already sent this memo to me via email… twice… and it's in the Audrey and Armando wedding calendar that you added me to…

Audrey L. Gallagher – 10:01 AM

And you didn't respond to them, did you?

Regan – 10:01 AM

I didn't see anyone else respond with proof of receipt either???

Audrey L. Gallagher – 10:02 AM

I know how often you've been reminded of the event, Regan. But I don't want you to mess this up. The entire wedding party is going to be there, and the last thing I need is for you to show up late with an asinine excuse.

Or worse, miss it completely, meaning it would fall to ME to reschedule you a fitting. Do you know how far out I had to book this appointment at Opal's? It's not a department store, Regan. We can't just show up whenever we feel like it.

Furthermore, I have far too much on my plate as it is. I don't need any additional stress, Regan.

She pulled a face. God, she hated how frequently her sister said her name. Like, there was no one else in this text thread; Regan knew she was the one being addressed here.

Regan – 10:03 AM

… why are you talking to me like I've already fucked up? Shouldn't we at least wait for it to happen before I'm on the receiving end of your unfailing disappointment?

Audrey L. Gallagher – 10:04 AM

That's the entire point, Regan. So that you DON'T fuck this up.

" That's the entire point, Regan ," she mimicked under her breath, giving the thumbs up to the message before tossing her phone back into the cart to continue shopping. Well, at this point, she might categorize it more as meandering…

Audrey would hate that response, which was somewhat satisfying.

She remembered – easily, as it was only four months ago – Sutton's older brother's wedding and how excited Sutton had been to be a bridesmaid for her future sister-in-law. Sutton's experience being in the wedding party for a family member had been so fun and exciting for her. Phone calls about the happily anticipated nuptials had been plentiful in their apartment, and Sutton had been swept up with it.

Regan's current experience with her sister was… different.

So, her family believed Regan was going to fuck up her sister's wedding before the day even happened – what else was new?

As Regan's phone rang, the sound coming through loud and clear from her earbuds signaling an incoming FaceTime, she didn't jump to answer it, as she would have only a few minutes ago. Going grocery shopping alone was already distressing enough for her – too many choices – the last thing she wanted was to have a video call with her sister.

She peeked down at her screen.

And gasped with excitement, Audrey and her irritating texts easily forgotten.

She'd strategically planned her shopping for work hours during the middle of the week to minimize crowds – ergo, to minimize the number of people that might get annoyed with her for needing to take her time browsing; she was indecisive at best and overwhelmed by all of the choices, even with her list, at worst – but she was especially glad now because she understood that it was somewhat ill-mannered to FaceTime while shopping.

But, while she recognized that, she could only speak to her best friend on a very limited schedule while Sutton was in Rome. So, she couldn't summon enough shits to give to not answer a public FaceTime.

Regan could already feel how widely she was grinning, even before she saw her little, grainy image in the bottom right of her screen.

She couldn't help it, though.

Nor could she help the excited, "Ahhh! Look at you! A sight to behold!" From escaping her at a decibel that was slightly louder than publicly appropriate.

Sutton smiled just as brightly back at her, even as she rolled her eyes. "Regan, I look exactly the same as I did the last time you saw me. A month ago."

"Pfft," she dismissed, leaning in and narrowing her eyes to really look at Sutton's image. The quality of her video connection in the back aisles of the grocery store wasn't great, so Sutton was a bit grainier than usual. "Let me do a visual sweep," she jokingly-but-not-jokingly commanded.

Sutton's smile dimmed slightly as she stared right into the camera. "Regan."

"Sutton," she parroted her tone. "Girl, you are halfway across the world! You've never been so far away from me for so long! Prove that you're whole, please."

Even though Sutton quietly protested, she did set her phone on a perch and took a step back, holding out both of her arms and doing a quick spin so Regan could inspect. The whole process only took three seconds, so Regan had figured Sutton would indulge her.

"You know, my mom doesn't even make me do this," Sutton grumbled as she settled back into the seat at her desk.

Satisfied, Regan shrugged. "Some might say I'm more protective over you than your mom." She cut her gaze to Sutton, warning, "But don't tell Katherine I said that."

Sutton laughed. "As if I would."

Regan would never say it to Katherine Spencer, either, because she respected, feared, and loved that woman too much to say anything that ran the slight risk of impugning her. But she did think it was the truth.

After all, while Sutton was closer to her mom than the average adult was, there were only so many things Sutton disclosed to her mom.

Regan, as her best friend, knew all of Sutton's stories. All of her truths, all of her heartbreaks.

Regan was the person who knew about every manipulative boyfriend, every date who didn't call, every person who took advantage of Sutton's giving nature over the years. Ever since they'd become friends in the second grade, she took her duty as Sutton's closest confidante and fearless mouthpiece very seriously.

While she was so fucking proud of Sutton for obtaining her master's degree and getting into a prestigious internship in Italy for the remainder of the year, it didn't mean Regan didn't worry about her.

"Rome seems to agree with you," she noted, taking in the tan on Sutton's fair skin. "You have a lot of time out of the Archives for sightseeing?"

Sutton shrugged, pulling her legs up so that her feet were perched on her chair in front of her and she could rest her chin on her knees. "Not a ton, yet. I was just granted access to the oldest files on record last week," she reminded Regan, and her voice had an edge of undeniable excitement.

Regan smiled affectionately. "Such a fuckin' nerd."

Sutton flipped her off, even as she continued, " But – when we aren't working with the physical files – we're allowed to work in the courtyard. And it's so beautiful – filled with all these natural plants and…" She sighed, shaking her head. "It's great."

"Good. I'm happy for you." And she really, really was.

Regan jumped when someone pointedly coughed behind her, spinning around to face a middle-aged man. Who pointed at the rows of pasta behind Regan, annoyance clear on his face.

She grimaced. "Sorry!" Before she hopped out of the way.

When she looked back at her phone, Sutton was frowning. "Where are you? Are you at the store?"

Regan looked around once more, making sure that the aisle was still empty – other than that man, before turning her attention back to Sutton. "Sure am," she confirmed, holding back her frown.

Unsurprisingly, Sutton caught it, and she sat up at attention and leaned in to try to look closer at Regan. "Are you okay? What's up with you?"

As always, Regan had trouble lying in the face of that concern. "Uh…" she hedged. "Nothing's wrong."

"Tell me," Sutton flat-out commanded. "Come on."

Regan squeezed her eyes closed, leaning into the handles of the grocery cart as she admitted, "I am okay. It just – I…" She huffed out a breath. "I'm struggling a bit. With Emma."

There. She'd spoken the unsurprising truth that she'd been trying to tiptoe around with Sutton for the last few weeks.

As she predicted, at her words, Sutton's frown deepened, concern etching into her features. "Oh. I thought you said everything was okay? When I texted Emma the other day, she said it's all fine?"

"Well, for Emma, I'm sure it is fine!" Regan felt the words burst out of her, throwing a look over her shoulder at the man behind her. Good, he was gone, and she was alone.

"Do you want me to set up a call to try and mediate?" Sutton offered, biting at her bottom lip as she studied Regan. The little lines on her forehead formed, and because Regan knew her best friend so well, she knew that those only appeared when Sutton started to really stress. "I knew I shouldn't have so easily accepted Emma moving into my room while I'm gone. If I were thinking more clearly, I wouldn't have–"

Regan shook her head, groaning. "No, I don't, I…" She deliberately slowed down and made herself take a deep breath. "I don't want you to be stressing about this while you're literally in Rome , okay?"

And that was the utter truth.

Sutton had been so worried about how Regan would fare without her that she'd seriously considered not taking her spot in this elite European internship. She hadn't even told Regan she'd applied for it! Admittedly, Sutton had also been going through an intense heartbreak, so there were some other factors at play, and Regan didn't delude herself to a grander level of importance than she deserved.

But it didn't change that Sutton had sobbed in Regan's arms only four months ago, confessing about this internship and apologizing to Regan. Telling Regan that she didn't have to worry, that Sutton wouldn't go.

It had been somewhat of a wakeup call for Regan herself at that moment.

A wake-up call that while she would always be Sutton's best friend, one of the closest people to her in the world, she didn't ever want to be someone that held Sutton back. Especially not when Sutton was capable of so many things and had such a bright future ahead of her, while Regan… didn't.

So, even though she didn't want to say goodbye to Sutton for over six months, even though she didn't want to live with Emma Bordeaux – a woman whose dislike for Regan had never wavered in the last two years – Regan had womaned up and done what needed to be done.

She'd filled out Sutton's acceptance form and reached out to Emma to broker a deal. And she'd resolved right from the start that she would be a Big Fucking Girl and handle her roommate business with Emma without needing Sutton to stress about it.

"But, I know that you're only living with her because of my situation, and–"

Regan cut Sutton off with a sharp shake of her head. "Look, it really is… fine. Emma and I haven't killed each other. We haven't even gotten into a brawl."

"She'd kill you," Sutton deadpanned. "So, yes, I can see that you're telling me the truth due to the fact that you are alive."

Offense slid through her, and Regan's mouth fell open with it. "Excuse you! She may be bigger than me, but I think I have a much more scrappier spirit than she does!"

Sutton's silence, paired with her skeptical look, was incredibly insulting, and Regan reeled from it, gasping.

"Wooow. I can't believe you think Emma would take me in a fight!"

Sutton offered her a placating look. "You wouldn't go down without getting in some licks, I'm sure."

Regan sniffed.

"Before we go any further down this road, I sincerely hope that I will never have to find out how true these conjectures are."

"You won't," Regan assured her quickly and knew that at the very least, that was true.

Regan and Emma both were outspoken and solid in their own personalities, but they'd never gotten physical. Not even close.

She sighed, giving in to a question she'd been holding out from asking. But since they were on the topic… "Can you just, like, give me some pointers? How to woo Emma, maybe?"

Sutton choked out a surprised, incredulous laugh. "Excuse me?"

"In a friendly way! Emma liked you from day one, and she hated me. So, how do I do it? How do I get her to like me? Or at least tolerate me?"

She knew she sounded desperate, and she didn't even give a fuck.

Because the reality of her situation was that Regan was floundering at home with Emma. She'd been rapidly discovering about herself that she did not do well living in close quarters with someone that didn't even want to have a simple conversation with her.

She'd known it would be an uphill battle to get Emma to like her – at least, to stop disliking her – but, "Nothing I do works, Sutton. Nothing . And I really am trying."

She stepped back so Sutton could fully see her, holding up her hand as she counted on her fingers. "I tried to help her with her boxes when she moved in. But we had a, uh, miscommunication. And the box fell. And some stuff broke." She winced, holding up a second finger. "Every time I try to make casual conversation, just asking about her day or telling her about mine, she gives the shortest answers and goes to her room." She held up a third finger. "This morning, I was about to get in the shower – like, literally . Usually, I've been waiting until after she's left for the day, which I thought she already had. So, I was naked. I'd just put my hair up. And when she knocked and asked to use the bathroom, I put on a towel and let her!"

Emma had hardly even spared her a glance.

"Even then, she barely even thanked me."

Not that Regan needed Emma to kiss her ass in gratitude or anything, but a simple acknowledgment without Regan needing to ask for it would have been nice! Especially because, "I highly doubt she would have done the same thing for me had I asked her."

She stared challengingly at Sutton, daring her to disagree. They both knew it was the truth.

For her credit, Sutton didn't deny it. Instead, she let out a slow, deep breath and reached up to rub her fingers over her eyes.

"So, what do I do?" Regan beseeched.

For a few seconds, Sutton was quiet. But, even in this blurred video, Regan could recognize her thinking face.

"First," Sutton started slowly, "You should approach this knowing that you two may never be… friends."

Regan stared at Sutton in disbelief. "What a profound psychological insight. And very encouraging."

"Thank you. Secondly." Sutton rolled her lips as if searching for how to say her thoughts. "Look, you operate – on an average day – at least at a seven out of ten level of energy." She lifted her hand up next to her forehead. "Emma operates at a three." She lowered her hand to just under her chin. "She's very muted, very level. Even when she's emotional, her emotions are–"

"Level," Regan cut in, thoughtfully drawing out the word.

"Yes. Therefore, when you show up, in Emma's face, at a seven – even at six in the morning or after a long day of work – Emma will automatically want to, um… get away." Sutton winced. "I couldn't think of a more delicate way to say that."

Regan waved away the apology. "It's fine, I get it." She tapped her index finger against her lips in contemplation. "So, what you're saying is that I need to meet Emma where she's at. Vibe on her wavelength."

Sutton snapped her fingers triumphantly. "Yes! Exactly that. Start there."

Regan was pretty fucking pleased with herself as she heard Emma's key scrape in the lock of their apartment later that night.

She'd just finished plating her home-cooked dinner that she'd been working on for the last hour and a half. Two plates. Timing couldn't have been better. And, if she was being entirely honest, it looked objectively delicious.

Rather than do what she wanted , and rush to the kitchen doorway to announce her culinary triumphs, she drew in a long, deep breath through her nose. And simply stood next to the table, waiting for Emma to walk by the doorway.

She smiled brightly as Emma slowed to a stop, scanning her eyes over the kitchen before landing on Regan. "Hey!" She cleared her throat, reminding herself level three . "How was your day?"

Ignoring her question, Emma's gaze dipped to the kitchen table and landed on the dishes there. "Are you expecting company?" She reached up and pointed to the large calendar she'd put up on the side of the fridge when she'd moved in. "If you put your schedule up on there as I'd asked, then I would have made myself scarce when you're going to have people over. It's kind of the point of the shared calendar system."

Regan darted her eyes over to the calendar in question, noting Emma's small, neat handwriting on it that listed her work schedule. "Ah. Right. I keep meaning to do that."

And she did . Only then she'd forget.

Either way, she was on a mission and determined not to get distracted. Regan shook her head. "Either way – no. I'm not expecting anyone to come over. I had the day off and went to the grocery store by myself, and while I was there, I thought… why don't I make us dinner tonight?"

"With all of the pans in the cabinets, I see," Emma commented, sliding her gaze beyond Regan into their kitchen.

Where, admittedly, Regan's wreckage was on display. "The small size of the kitchen makes it look worse than it is," she promised. "I'll clean it up after we eat; it'll be fine."

After all, Regan had lived here for seven years – cleaning up after her cooking messes hardly took long at all.

Emma dubiously nodded, looking back at Regan.

Who did her best not to bounce up onto her tiptoes from the weight of the uncertainty of the unspoken dinner invitation. "I remember you telling Sutton how much you love Chinese food one night but never order it. Tonight, I made General Tso's chicken!"

She gestured to their plates, feeling very victorious. Especially when Emma's eyes lingered on their food – after living with Emma for nearly a month, Regan knew very well that Emma often came home after six or seven in the evening without having had time to eat anything since lunch.

Calmly, Regan pulled out her chair and sat before gesturing to the seat opposite her at the small table. "I had some extra time on my hands today. I promise you that having a meal with me doesn't mean I'm going to be giving you a homemade friendship bracelet."

Though, Regan had been absolutely incredible at making friendship bracelets back in the day. She bit back that fun fact.

"Good, because I've never really been one for friendship bracelets." Consideringly, Emma nodded. She carefully set her bag on the ground before walking toward the table.

Regan could feel her excitement mounting as Emma sat down across from her.

Be cool. Be cool .

She waited as Emma picked up her fork and poked curiously through the dish – which was, admittedly, very simple. Rice, broccoli, chicken, and sauce. Apparently, it passed inspection, though, and Emma took a bite.

No matter how much she silently chanted it to herself, Regan couldn't help the broad smile that overtook her face when she watched Emma's eyes slowly close as she chewed, a soft sound of enjoyment escaping her.

When Emma looked back up at her, Regan was still smiling. "Good?" She asked, as chill as possible.

"Delicious, actually," Emma answered after she swallowed, studying Regan carefully. "I feel like I haven't seen you cook that much since I moved in?" She held Regan's eyes as she deadpanned, "Other than whatever it is that you're doing in the kitchen at night when I can hear pans clanging together."

Regan shrugged, ignoring that last part, as she used her own fork to slide her food around as she answered, "Oh, that's because I kind of haven't done much actual cooking in the last few weeks?" She felt the ramble coming but couldn't tamp it down in time before it came spilling out, "The thing is, I really hate cooking meals for myself. It makes me so… sad. You know?"

Emma's simple, arched eyebrow reflected to Regan that no, she did not know.

"It's so much work," Regan explained, gesturing around the kitchen. "To get all of the ingredients and then spend all of the time prepping and cooking, and then the cleanup – all to, what? Sit here and have dinner by myself for twenty minutes?"

It was one of the things she was struggling with, in having Emma as a roommate.

Even though she wondered if she should stop her ramble – feeling like the vibe was a higher frequency than a three – Emma took another bite and seemed to be listening to her, giving Regan her famous thoughtful attention, so…

"But, maybe, if you like my cooking – I'd totally be happy to make something for the both of us a few times a week," she offered eagerly. "We could chat a bit and maybe start to wipe our slate clean? I think it could be good, you know. For the both of us. Since we're here together, and we used to have Sutton to hang out with, and now it's the two of us."

She stared expectantly at Emma, waiting for an answer.

Instead of giving her one, Emma stared down at her plate, her fork frozen in her hand as she started breathing more heavily. She sounded almost… pissed off?

Regan slumped down in her chair. What could she have possibly done now ?! Like, honestly?

"Emm–"

"What did you put in this?" Emma demanded. She was breathing even heavier as she dropped her fork and looked up at Regan.

Regan blinked at her in confusion. "Huh? I told you what it was."

"Did you use some kind of nut?" Emma asked, putting her palms flat on the table.

"What? No. Why?" She was shaking her head before she remembered. " Oh , well, I did use almond flour to coat the chicken. We had a ton of excess at the café, and it was the wrong order, so I was able to get it for free, and… what is going on with you?" She asked, concern curling through her as she stared at Emma.

Whose breathing could only be defined as labored, now.

"I'm allergic to almonds." Emma's voice was tight, and she squeezed her eyes closed as her cheeks started to pink. "Regan, I know you obviously don't pay attention to anyone but yourself. But I'm going into anaphylaxis now, and I need you to get my EpiPen."

Regan's hands fell to her lap with a heavy thump as she stared, her blood rushing through her ears. Everything in the world turned motionless.

Before Emma took a loud, gasping breath and that shocked Regan's system back to the moment.

"What do I do!" She shouted as she jumped up, her chair clattering to the ground behind her.

Emma's breathing continued to labor – only worse , by the freaking second, it seemed.

"In my bag. Front… pocket," Emma managed, pointing weakly toward where she'd placed her bag in the doorway.

Regan couldn't feel her legs as she ran to it, dropping to the ground and frantically ripping through the front pockets until she found it.

"I got it!" She screamed in relieved triumph. She cradled it carefully as she scrambled back over to Emma.

Terror pounded through her at the red hives outbreaking over Emma's arms, chest, neck, and face and how audibly she seemed to be struggling for air.

"You – do it," Emma wheezed, weakly tapping at her thigh.

Regan didn't need to be told twice.

She thanked whatever higher power there might be for the fact that she'd had to take a first aid/CPR class when she'd done management training for the café and quickly took off the emergency cap before she stabbed the needle into Emma's thigh.

As she held the pen firmly to Emma, she stared up at her from the ground, feeling her heart racing as she watched for signs that it worked. It had to work.

After several seconds, Emma weakly waved her away. "Take it out. It's done."

Regan carefully did so, her hands holding steady until she dropped the EpiPen to the floor beside her. Only then did she start uncontrollably shaking, gasping for breaths, herself.

"Are you okay?" She sat up on her knees, reaching out to take Emma's hands in her own, squeezing intently. "You seem like you're breathing better. You're better?"

Emma's head was bowed, and she was covered in a cold sweat, but she nodded. "It worked," she confirmed quietly. "But I still need to go to the ER."

The nurse that had been tending to Emma since they'd arrived at the hospital three hours ago gave them both a small smile after she checked the nearly empty bags on an IV drip into Emma's arm. "Everything looks good here. Doctor Allen will be in to see you again soon, but then you'll be ready for discharge."

Emma nodded before readjusting her head on her pillow and closing her eyes. "Thanks," she whispered, sounding completely wrung out.

"Thank you so much, Sarita," Regan effused, finally feeling her own heart return to normal after getting that confirmation that everything really would be okay. She'd been on edge for hours , watching Emma for any sign of distress.

Emma hadn't seemed to enjoy it, but she'd also seemed to not have the energy to argue. Regan would take it.

They'd arrived via ambulance, so they'd thankfully been taken right back to a room. Since then, Emma had gotten all of her vitals checked several times, she'd been administered more epinephrine, and, in the last hour, she'd had both intravenous fluids and steroids.

But she'd been stable for the last two hours and was looking entirely normal, and Regan could have absolutely melted from relief. Honestly, she'd already cried several times, much to Emma's chagrin.

"I'm sorry, Emma. I'm so sorry," she apologized, her throat tight with emotion.

She'd been entirely responsible for this, and that bore heavily down on her. Every time she looked at Emma, whose cheeks had alternated between having an alarmingly ghostly pallor to abnormally pink hues, she'd felt her insides churn so much that she was glad she hadn't had time to eat anything at dinner, or it would have already made a reappearance. She'd done this.

They hadn't exchanged many words in the last few hours, which was fair. But given that Emma was cleared now, it finally felt like the appropriate time to really apologize. And Regan was bursting with remorse.

"So, killing me wasn't part of your plan tonight?" Emma asked, her eyes still closed as she laid her head back.

Regan wasn't sure if she was joking, but she gasped at the question anyway.

"No! God! What a terrible way to go about doing that. I'd be the only suspect!"

Emma blinked her eyes open, then and nailed Regan with an unamused look. Okay, apparently, Emma hadn't been joking.

Sobering, Regan intently shook her head. "No. I promise you, I had no idea that you were allergic to almonds! I made sure that I didn't use peanuts because that's what you're allergic to. So I thought, anyway," she mumbled, dropping her head down as she silently berated herself.

"I am ," Emma confirmed, turning her head completely to look at Regan. Truthfully, she was kind of relieved to see that angry fire back; she'd take any sign of normal Emma right about now. "I'm allergic to peanuts a nd all tree nuts."

Contrite, Regan grasped at Emma's hospital sheet; she was fairly certain Emma wouldn't be receptive to Regan holding her hand for comfort. But, damn, Regan could really use the comfort. "Now that I know, I swear, I will rid the house of everything–"

"Did you even read the roommate contract I sent you when we decided to live together? That you agreed to?" Emma's irritation was clear, and Regan couldn't begrudge her that in this moment.

Guiltily, Regan shifted in her chair. "Um. Well. Not the entire thing," she hedged before her desperation got the best of her. "Emma, the contract was over six pages long, single-spaced!"

"Well, excuse me for thinking you could read at a second-grade level. I guess that was my mistake," Emma snapped.

"No! It's – I just mean…" She took a deep, stabilizing breath. "I thought that you would move in, and we could go over your contract together ," she emphasized. "You know, like two adults sharing an apartment would usually do. Talk about the expectations and share the important facts about the apartment and each other. Like about the bedroom outlets. And deathly allergies."

Emma glared at her wordlessly.

And Regan's stomach turned in on itself all over again as she conceded, "But I should have read it. I really should have. I'm sorry . This is the last thing I would have ever done intentionally, and I really hope that despite whatever it is that you think of me, you know that."

Emma's strong jaw set, and she didn't speak for several seconds. And when she did, she ignored Regan's apology entirely.

"I need this to sink in for you: we are not friends. We don't need to be friends to live together. In fact, I haven't ever been friends with my roommates, and I lived with them for three years. I'm not a replacement for Sutton now that you don't have her at your beck and call every single day. You will live your life, and I will live my life, and even though we share a bathroom, those lives are separate. I think you'll find that way, we'll have far less chances of killing each other."

Her blue eyes glinted challengingly up at Regan, and she – for once – found herself powerless to disagree.