rose, and the wedding dress billowed around her. Then she clasped his offered hand. “I do.”
The last time Emerson had an imaginary boyfriend, she’d been in middle school. Her twelve-year-old sister had announced at Sunday dinner that she was “going with” Jeremy Swanson. So Emerson did what any self-respecting fourteen-year-old would do. She’d invented a boyfriend of her own, claiming he went to a different school and was constantly busy with sports.
That act hadn’t lasted long. She’d never been any good at lying, which didn’t bode well for what she was about to do with Jack.
He squeezed her hand. “Want me to go in with you?” he asked as they stood outside of her mother’s bridal boutique, staring at the black-and-white-striped awning with Dewitt’s Bridal scrawled across it in a fancy pink script. On his leash, Cosmo stood obediently next to Jack.
Emerson shook her head. “Thank you, but I think it will be better if we wait as long as possible to bring you into the fold.” Easier on her, as well. “I’ll spring you on them when we get closer to the anniversary party. Plus that will give us time to start work on turning the bar around.”
Jack gave her a long once-over, with his face emanating doubt. It looked like he was about to ask a question. But he must have decided against it. “You’re the boss,” he said simply instead. “Why don’t you come over tonight? I can fill you in on the situation with the bar and we can start planning.”
“I’ll be there. Just text me the address.” She paused. “You’re not a serial killer or anything, are you?”
He held his hand up in a salute. “Law-abiding citizen, I promise. But if it makes you feel better, we can meet at the bar.”
She was probably being silly or overly cautious. She hoped her new pretend boyfriend wasn’t a psychopath, but you just never knew these days. “The bar sounds great.”
“Done. We can continue to get to know each other better tonight. If we’re going to make this work, we’ll need details.”
Emerson cocked her head. “What do you mean?”
“If we’re dating, we need to know essentials. Favorite color, movie, band, food, hobbies. I don’t even know your middle name. Or if you have one.”
Emerson couldn’t believe she was doing this. But desperate times called for desperate measures. Pretending to be dating Jack was a tiny white lie; it wouldn’t hurt anyone.
He was really great to suggest this ruse. When was the last time she’d met a decent guy like him? Definitely not any of the men her mother had tried to fix her up with. Certainly not Thad, her ex-fiancé. Thad had barely ever asked how her day had been, so he would never have stepped in to do something as gallant as this.
She eyed Jack now. Damn, he was handsome. No, she thought. Handsome wasn’t the right word. More like...attractive and kind. She only hoped she wasn’t taking advantage of him.
She might not know him well yet, but she could tell he wasn’t the type to offer something when he didn’t want to do it. Besides, it wasn’t like Jack was the only one getting something out of this bargain. She was happy to help Jack with his bar. And she would see to it that the place became a success.
“Emerson? You okay?”
“Yes.” His question pulled her out of her thoughts. “Sorry. I’ll be there tonight and tell you absolutely everything there is to know about me.”
Apparently satisfied, Jack nodded. “Okay. Good luck.”
Emerson crouched down to say goodbye to Cosmo, and then she rose and took a step toward the shop, anxious to get out of the overbearing wedding gown. She couldn’t imagine wearing something like this for her special day.
Before she reached for the door, she turned back, looking over her shoulder. Jack hadn’t moved. He was standing on the sidewalk, watching her. He was making sure she really was okay.
“Rose,” she said spontaneously.
Jack tilted his head in question.
“My middle name is Rose.”
He grinned and her knees felt weak. “See you tonight, Emerson Rose Dewitt. And for the record, I think you make a really beautiful bride.”
Their eyes met and she had to work hard to hold back a shiver. Finally, Jack broke the gaze and retreated down the street, with Cosmo trotting alongside him. Emerson placed a hand on her stomach, willing the fluttering to subside.
When she pushed through the front door and entered the shop, she still didn’t feel calm. All she could think about was Jack. But a few seconds later, the sound of her mother’s voice broke the spell.
“Emerson, finally.” Her mother let out a long, exasperated gasp. “Where in the world have you been?” She rushed toward Emerson, wearing a tailored mauve pantsuit; her makeup was absolutely flawless, and every strand of hair was perfectly in place.
“I—I—I mean...”
She struggled to finish the sentence as her younger sister made a mad dash across the store. Amelia’s eyes were wide and she was subtly shaking her head. “Hey, Em,” she said brightly as she pushed something covertly into her hand. Emerson realized it was her cell phone. “See, Mama, I told you she was just taking a call outside.”
Grateful, Emerson let out the breath she wasn’t aware she’d been holding. “Right. Sorry. Business call. I didn’t mean to worry you.”
Her mother’s narrowed gaze was almost enough to make her drop the phone and start spilling all of the details of her little alleyway adventure.
“Of course I was worried, Emerson. You’re wearing a ten-thousand-dollar dress. What in the hell were you thinking stepping outside in it?”
Or flinging herself out a window. But she decided not to mention that.
“You could have gotten the hemline dirty.” Beatrice Dewitt’s eagle eye was already examining the dress.
“Looks fine to me,” Amelia said.
Emerson took her sister in. She was wearing an elegant lace gown with cap sleeves that was straight and fitted to her flawless body. Just as she’d told Jack earlier, the two of them had the same auburn hair as their mother. But while Emerson did her best to tame her curly, shoulder-length hair, Amelia’s trendy layers always seemed to float carelessly, as if someone were following her around with a wind machine.
Amelia was two years younger than Emerson, but she’d surpassed her in height before the age of ten and never looked back. Emerson topped off at a whopping five foot three on a good day, while Amelia was a stately five-nine, without heels.
Emerson had needed braces, while Amelia’s teeth had been straight. During middle school, Emerson had become quite familiar with the dermatologist, while Amelia never so much as got a sweat pimple.
Amelia had twenty-twenty vision. Emerson needed glasses and contacts.
Amelia could wear anything off the rack. Emerson paid a good portion of her salary to her tailor.
Amelia had found her Prince Charming and gotten married. Emerson...
Shouldn’t it have been the other way around? Didn’t the law of archetypes suggest that she was supposed to be the overachiever and her younger sister was destined to be the rebel?
Emerson clutched the cell phone in her hand. The reminder that, despite all of their differences, her sister did have her back. At least that was something. And something that was a constant source of guilt.
It would be so easy to be jealous of her sister, but Amelia—her little Mia—made that next to impossible. For every success Amelia achieved, Emerson seemed