Page 37 of Never Not Friends

“No, Vinny, but I’m kind of busy right now. So I’m sending you.”

Of course she didn’t ask for me.

Why would she?

The night air is that perfect Arizona spring temperature we dream about in the middle of July.

I cut across the Montgomerys’ front yard toward the Lawsons’ driveway. Instead of heading to the front door, I open the fence gate that leads to the stairs to Emma’s apartment.

The porch light above the outside staircase glows yellow, casting long shadows across the wooden steps.

With each step, Juliet’s words replay through my mind.

I waited a long time for you to propose.

And she really did.

That’s the problem.

I did take forever, and I don’t even know why.

I stop halfway up the staircase, rubbing the back of my neck before finishing the climb.

Maybe some people are just slower at big decisions. Or maybe I’m just broken in a way I haven’t figured out yet.

My dad packed one duffel bag when I was fourteen.

One.

That was all it took to leave.

Twenty years of marriage fit inside one beat-up Adidas bag. He left clothes hanging in his closet. Shoes in the garage. Children in their beds. Leaving that much behind messes with a teenager’s head—it’s enough stuff to convince yourself he might come back.

But he never did.

I shake the thought away before it settles too deep and step onto the landing in front of Emma’s door.

I have no clue what the emergency could be. Maybe she needs to move a heavy dresser or something.

I knock twice.

Immediately, something crashes inside.

“Ow!”

Then another loud thud.

I grin, already feeling the tenseness from moments ago disappear. “Emma?”

Locks click, and the door swings open.

She freezes.

I freeze.

For exactly one second.

She’s wearing plaid pajama shorts and an oversized tank top. Her hair is piled on top of her head in the kind of messy bun that seems completely accidental but extremely endearing.