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not interested.”

“You think she’s not interested,” I cried.

“I know for a fact she isn’t. I saw her reply.”

“You saw her reply?” I glared at her, studying her shifty eyes. I knew that look on her. “You mean you coached her.”

“That’s not fair.” She stuttered the words. I knew there was something dodgy going on.

“You know what’s not fair, Emma? Roberto fancies Harriet. A lot. And you’ve gone and filled her head with who knows what when she could have been quite happy otherwise.”

“Men! You all think women just sit around, waiting for guys to notice them.”

“Oh, give me a break.”

“I mean, seriously. She’s waaay out of his league.” This was Emma grasping for a branch in the quicksand of her argument. I could tell because she couldn’t look me in the face.

“Out of his league? She’s pretty, I guess, but that’s all she’s got going for her.”

“Well, that’s all that matters to machos like Martinez, now, isn’t it?”

“Honestly, I don’t know what irks me more—your influence over Harriet’s gullible mind or how you encourage her vanity.”

“Clearly, you and I will never see eye to eye on this, so let’s just agree to disagree.”

She crumbled up her take-out box and shoved it in the bag. It was an exclamation point—she’d said her peace and wanted the last word on the subject. I snatched all the rubbish from the table and stood, depositing it in a nearby bin. While my back was turned, I hadn’t realized she was already on her way back to her car.

“If you have your heart set on matching Harriet up with Elton…” I warned, following her across the grass. “You will be sorely disappointed.”

She stopped abruptly and spun around to confront me.

“For your information, Harriet doesn’t need any man to be happy.”

She squared her shoulders with decided indignation. “But if Elton just so happens to like her, it’s only because she’s talented and gorgeous.”

Talented and gorgeous? Her singing made my ears bleed.

“You do realize Elton surrounds himself with beautiful, leggy Broadway actresses every single day,” I replied. “Some little Hollywood hopeful with stars in her eyes won’t impress him. Stop trying to find him a… what did you call it? Bouji Chihuahua.”

She laughed, but it wasn’t a joyful laugh. It was the venomous provocation of a rival. My heart sank. What happened to our beautiful afternoon? The chirp of her car lock dug into my gut like a dart, and she climbed in, slamming the door. I motioned for her to roll down the window and realized the old cranking gesture was woefully outdated. She understood what I meant, though. But she only opened the window a crack. I did my best to hide my irritability and calmly implored her good sense.

“You’re not doing her any favours by inflating her ego, Emma. Somebody is bound to get hurt.”

She gave me a tight-lipped smile and put her car in reverse. Everything in me burned as she drove away. “You have spaghetti sauce on your face,” I screamed as she retreated out of sight. I would never enjoy Italian food again. Or clowders of cats.

10

Monarch Of The Sea

Emma

“Hey.” The soft rumble in Jaxson’s voice broke my heart just a little bit. Even through the phone line, I could sense his beautiful lips turned down into a sad frown.

“Hey,” I replied. I wiggled further under my covers and stared at the muted telly. After our heated disagreement, I thought I’d take my mind off Jax by shutting out the world, watching movies in bed, but Jaxson was everywhere. Even the telly. Antigua was on HBO, one of the films he’d directed I wasn’t in. It was a weird movie. And now he was on the phone as though I’d somehow summoned him through the remote control. The actors moved on the screen without sound, currently engaged in a jungle action sequence. Likewise, the quiet space between his phone connection and mine dragged on silently like three quarters of The Artist. I would have been content with the wordless communication, as though by not speaking of it, our argument had never occurred. At length, he was the one who broke the silence.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he said. I nodded, forgetting he couldn’t see me. I wanted to say, Yeah, me neither because I’m sad. But instead, I whispered, “Whose asinine idea was it to play a Frank Sinatra song during the battle scene?” Although the telly was on mute, I knew the scene by heart.

“It’s supposed to represent a parallel reality,” he said, knowing exactly what I was talking about. We’d had this conversation before.

I lifted my legs to let the blanket fall under my feet. “It’s just weird.”

“I won’t argue with you about that,” he agreed. “Although I will say you just don’t understand the movie on a philosophical level.”

“Ninety-eight percent of the movie-going public didn’t understand Antigua on a philosophical level or otherwise. It’s a weird movie, and nobody knows the plot. Not even you.”

“No clue. I’m only the director.”

“A degree lower than the bagel guy.”

He laughed. “Oh, there would be no movie without the bagel guy.”

Agh! His laugh. It was the closest I’d get to an apology.

“Emma,” he bade tenderly. “Can we go back to being friends?”

“We never stopped,” I replied softly. “We just don’t always think alike.”

“If we did, it would be painfully boring,” he joked.

“Yes,” I agreed. “Like Antigua.”

“The little gold statue on my shelf begs to differ.”

“Then he’s just as pretentious as you.”

We were both stubborn but falling into easy banter meant we were back on track.

“Is that you extending an olive branch?” he said playfully.

“Jax, neither one of us was wrong. Especially not me.”

“Of course not.”

I watched the screen, smiling warmly at the carefully planned explosions and stunt men dressed in tribal loincloths flying, and I murmured L.O.V.E. by Frank Sinatra under my breath.

“Oh, hey,” I said, mid-verse. “Are you going to Randall and Annie’s wedding?”

“Of course,” he replied. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

“That’s good.” I was worried he’d be too busy with that

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