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my face.

“Came to collect on those IOU notes?”

“I came to pay up.”

“I lost, remember? I feel like we’ve had this conversation before.”

“Emma, remember when I told you there’s a much more important match you have to make?”

“Sort of. It’s all kind of fuzzy. Isn’t it past midnight?”

“It’s a quarter to eight.”

Well, it felt like midnight. I settled back into a reclining position on the sofa and buried my face into the pillow.

“Doesn’t matter,” I said, rubbing the sleep from my eye. “I screwed up so bad. You have no idea how bad.”

“Oh, I think I do know.”

That was no shocker. Stella had her ways.

“I suppose you would.” Exactly how much did she know, I wondered. More than I did, no doubt. Was she at my house to deliver news I didn’t want to hear? I didn’t even realize I was crying until the salty taste of tears dribbled into the corner of my mouth.

“I’m such an idiot,” I lamented. “How could I be so stupid?”

“Do you want me to answer that question?”

“I mean, is it so wrong to want him all to myself? I don’t even care if he doesn’t love me back. As long as things never change. As long as we can be best friends. I’d be happy with that.”

Stella remained silent for a long while, letting me sob into copious amounts of tissues. At one point, she retrieved a wastebasket from the kitchen. I didn’t even notice when she stepped away. She picked the tissues off my chest and tossed them in the bin. Then she perched herself on the edge of the sofa and gently stroked my hair, freeing the strands plastered to my cheek.

“Sweetheart, listen to what you’re saying. Do you really want things to remain the same between you and Jaxson?”

“Yes.”

“Do you expect him to live like a monk? What if he wants a wife and a family?”

I couldn’t answer that because it was too painful to think about. I’d lose him forever if that happened.

“Do you want him to be happy?”

Of course I did. I loved him. I just didn’t think he’d be truly happy with Harriet.

“I guess.”

Stella nudged my feet and got comfortable on the sofa, the two of us nuzzled together as she rubbed my calves.

“Did I ever tell you how I met your Great-Uncle Hershel?”

“When you did Anything Goes on Broadway?”

She nodded. “When I did Anything Goes on Broadway. I was playing Reno Sweeney and Hersh was general manager of the company. Most of the other producers spent their time up in their offices, but Hershel joined us every night backstage during warm-ups and watched every show from the house. I could always spot him in the audience. He was so dapper.

“Yes, I know. You were something of a star on the West End with a popular show on the BBC, and you thought he was too shy to ask you out.”

“Well, that’s not exactly the whole story.”

“Really?” That piqued my interest, and I sat up to listen, tucking my knees into my chest. “Do go on.”

“You see, there was this chorus boy—”

“A chorus boy?” I cried. “Stella!”

“No, no. Listen.” She swished her hand around to calm me down. “This chorus boy… Ethan or Bobby or… something. Anyway, could he ever dance. Ballet, Fosse, you name it. Anything Goes is a big tap show, you know, and that chap could tap circles around all the other dancers.”

“Okay, all right. He could dance.”

“And he was a looker—”

“Stella!”

“Patience, my dear.” She cleared her throat. “I had this wig girl… can’t remember her name. Cute as a button. I decided to set them up. I pulled out all my tricks—notes in the dressing room, secret rendezvous, drinks after the show. But no matter what I tried, Hershel was always there to ruin it. He’d show up at the date I had arranged at Keplan’s Deli. He’d steal the notes I left in Bobby’s dressing room. He even met my wig girl in the secret place I planned for her to run into the cute dancer.”

“I think I know where this is going.”

“Well, to make a long story short, Bobby and my wig girl never did get together. They both had the hots for Hershel.”

“No way.”

“Oh, yes.” She nodded emphatically. “I was completely off base. All those weeks of planning and scheming. Doing everything in my power to throw those two together, and there was Hershel all along. Thwarting my every move. He was everywhere. It drove me bonkers. To think it took two people to fancy Hershel before I realized I was in love with him. I was too busy making matches for everyone else, that I was blind to the man right in front of me. And then I was sure I was too late.”

“But you weren’t too late.”

“No. No, I was not.”

Stella patted my feet and rose from the sofa with a small grunt. “Well, good night, poppet. Don’t be so glum. Not every matchmaking failure is a complete bust.” She took the jar off the coffee table and slipped it into my hands. “Find your own story in the rubble. That’s the hardest match you’ll ever make.”

Mind blown. I’d always loved Uncle Hershel. But now, I loved him even more. He was quite the romantic… and maybe a little bit the jealous type.

“I’ll just see myself out,” Stella called from the vestibule.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Like a tosser, I was still sitting there on my sofa dumbly clutching the money jar with both hands.

“It’s fine,” I heard her say before the door clicked shut. “Just take a shower, you ragamuffin.”

31

Zip It

Jaxson

Eleven and a half hours, London to Los Angeles nonstop. Eleven and a half hours with nothing to do but sit and wait. Eleven and a half hours before I could rush to Emma.

All right, rush might be a relative term when considering L.A. traffic. Slug was more like it—but I made it to her house right before sunset.

A drastic array of emotions surged through me. Sorrow. Anger.

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