Ryan and Simon looked at each other.
“See?” Dale said triumphantly. “They’re rare. They’re unicorns. So if my son was smart, he’d keep her. But I worry.” He looked at Simon. “I love you, son, but you’ve never been the sharpest tool in the shed when it comes to women.”
Ryan snorted.
“You shouldn’t talk,” Dale said. “Because you’re the best friend my son’s ever had, but you’re no sharper than he is. You let the most amazing woman I know slip right through your fingers.”
Ryan opened his mouth, but Dale jabbed a finger at him. “And yeah, maybe Alison’s not all sweet and kind and soft on the outside, maybe she’s got sharp edges that can cut like a knife, but you know what? She’d lay down her life for the people she cares about. She’s got what it takes on the inside, and you cut her loose. So yeah, you’re as stupid as Simon in my book.”
“I agree with you there,” Ryan said seriously, smile gone. “But you know her. Until she’s done pushing me away, there’s nothing I can do.”
Dale just shook his head in disgust at the both of them. “It’s a sad day when an old geezer like me is smarter than you two idiots put together. Don’t know your asses from your own noses.” And with that, he stalked off toward the bleachers.
“Did he just call us idiots?” Ryan asked.
“Idiots who don’t know our asses from our noses. And you know what else?”
“What?”
“He’s right.”
Chapter 11
Step 11: Be kind.
A few nights later, Emma and Hog were on the roof, stargazing. Okay, so Emma was stargazing. Hog was doing what Emma couldn’t seem to—catching up on his beauty sleep. What she could do was think about seeing Ali Pratt and how it had made her feel like a stupid teenager all over again, including all the messy emotions surging through her. She shook that off and thought about Paw Pals, and how much she wanted it. Thought about making a future for herself.
Thought about Simon.
He’d kissed her. No, she’d kissed him, and then he’d taken control of the kiss and rocked her world in the very best of ways. She’d known it’d be good, but she hadn’t known it’d be earth-shattering, rattling her to her very foundation. She had no idea what to do with that.
Eventually hunger got her to her feet. “Time to figure out dinner.”
Hog scrambled to all fours and trotted excitedly across the roof.
“You do realize you only move with any sort of speed when I mention food, right?”
Hog pleaded the Fifth. He was nose to the door, eyes fixated on it as if it might open for him if he stared at it long enough.
She opened it for him and then stared in surprise. The staircase was lit by strings of twinkle lights wrapped around the handrails, lighting up her way. The next set of stairs was lit too, making her reverse commute warm and cozy, and magical.
R and J were just finishing up on her floor near her front door when she got there. “Wow,” she said. “It’s beautiful. But why?”
R shrugged. “Simon asked us to do it.”
J handed her a brown bag. Whatever was in it smelled amazing. “What’s this?” she asked.
He just smiled bashfully and looked at R, who answered for him. “Simon’s working, so he asked us to help you celebrate making the climb.”
She was stunned. When was the last time someone had thought of her like this, gone out of their way to make her feel special? She couldn’t even remember—literally. “But how did he know I’d gone to the roof?”
J pointed to a security camera mounted high on the wall in a corner of the stairwell.
“There’s one on each floor,” R said.
She’d never even noticed.
“He said the lights would hopefully bring some cheer,” he said. “And the food’s his personal favorite Thai takeout. He thought you’d be hungry after all that work. Oh, and if you need dessert, I’m supposed to get you the ice cream out of his freezer.”
Suddenly the hallway wasn’t the only thing warm. She was too, from the inside out. “Does he offer dinner and dessert to all the tenants who climb the stairs?”
“Uh . . .” Clearly sensing he was about to step into a minefield without the proper gear, R looked like a deer in the headlights.
J shook his head at his twin, but R said, “He thought you could use some happy and . . .”
Emma arched a brow. “I’m going to need the rest of that sentence, R.”
“And . . . he likes you?”
J sucked in some air, leaned into his brother, and whispered something.
“Right.” R grimaced. “Don’t tell her that last part.”
J smacked his brother upside the back of his head and then they both escaped, racing to the stairs, shoving each other into the walls for apparent fun before they vanished from sight.
Emma stood there a moment, taking in the sparkling lights with a silly smile on her face, melancholy gone. She’d gotten both up and down the stairs without stopping once. She had another loan application in. She’d kissed a really hot guy . . . She had dinner in hand. Things were looking up for her.
Way up.
So she made an about-face. Instead of letting her and Hog into her place, they took the stairs down to the first floor, because maybe Simon was working from home and she could thank him personally. She knocked, then realized she was probably imposing. For one thing, if Simon was here, he’d have shown up himself, and—
The door opened and Alison stared at her. “What the hell?”
Emma stared back. “You live here too?”
“No. I’m Uncle Dale’s caretaker tonight.”
“Hey, I take care of myself, thank you very much,” a male yelled from inside the apartment. Uncle Dale, presumably. “I just won twenty bucks off your lousy poker face, didn’t I?”
Alison made an annoyed sound. “I forgot that you live in this building now too—though how I forgot that, I’ve got no idea. Simon is way too soft.” She eyed the brown bag in Emma’s hand and stopped frowning. “Is that Thai takeout?”
“Yes.” Emma hugged the food closer to her. “I wanted to thank Simon for the food, and also for putting up the strings of lights—”
“Hold up. Simon bought you Thai, but I’m stuck cooking dinner?”
“Because you lost to him at poker last night,” Dale yelled from within. “You promised to cook dinner tonight if you lost, which you did. Badly. In case you’re wondering, it’s because you always let your emotions get the best of you.”
Alison looked Emma straight in the eyes. “I’ll take one percent off your future monthly lease if you tell me you’re here to share the Thai.”
“Uh . . .”
“Great.” Alison dragged her in and Emma found herself standing in the middle of a living room much the same as hers, except more lived in.
“Good news, Uncle Dale,” Alison called out. “You don’t have to suffer my cooking after all. We got delivery.”
Dale came out of the kitchen. He was wearing a white T-shirt under a brightly colored Hawaiian shirt, paisley boxers, and black socks.