Nothing.
She pulled the phone away from her ear and looked at the caller ID. Ned? Dammit. “What?”
Silence.
“Ned?”
“No. It’s . . . me,” Cindy said quietly. “I lost my phone. I used Ned’s to try and find it. I hit ‘Babe’ in his favorites.”
“And got me?” Emma asked in horror. “Seriously?”
Cindy’s only answer was a soft sniff.
Emma sighed. “Look, I meant it when I said I’m not interested in him anymore. He’s all yours.”
There was a beat of weighted silence. “I know how much I hurt you, Emma, and I want you to know I didn’t mean for this to happen. I’ve regretted it every single day since. I’m so sorry.”
“Sorry enough to do me a favor?”
“Yes,” Cindy said. “Anything.”
“Delete my number from his phone.” Emma disconnected and did what she’d asked Cindy to do, what she couldn’t believe she hadn’t yet done—she deleted Ned out of her phone.
But not Cindy.
“You’ve got a set, I’ll give you that,” Alison said with approval. “Where were we?”
Emma let out a breath. “Paw Pals. Out of morbid curiosity, what kind of a partner do you see yourself being?”
“A better one than the exes squared, I can promise you that. Plus, I’m awesome at numbers and marketing, and I like to work my ass off. And bonus—I have my current job, which I’m not giving up, so I’ll be mostly an invisible partner.”
“And in this crazy scenario, I’d do what exactly?” Emma asked.
“You’re the face, the day-to-day operations. And the people pleaser.”
Emma laughed. “I’m not a people pleaser anymore. And come on, you don’t even like me.”
“What does liking you have to do with making money?” Alison responded. “Think of it this way. What will you do if you don’t take my deal?”
Her parents’ short, uncomfortable couch flashed in Emma’s mind . . . “And what is this deal exactly?”
Alison smiled. “Fifty-fifty ownership, of course.”
Emma laughed. “No. Twenty-eighty, and once I pay down your loan on the same terms I’d have taken from the bank, you’re out.”
“Fifty-fifty ownership on the business or no deal.” Alison didn’t fidget, didn’t move, just held Emma’s gaze, her posture relaxed. Waiting. Patient.
Like a snake . . .
But the woman really did have sharp business sense and knew how to make money. Dammit. “This is never going to work unless we promise to be honest with each other.”
“I don’t have a problem being honest,” Alison said.
Emma gave her an are-you-kidding? look.
“I’m not the same girl I was in high school.”
“Is that an apology?” Emma asked.
“Absolutely not.”
All right then.
“Also, I have stipulations,” Alison said.
“I haven’t agreed to anything. But sure, let’s hear them.”
“I’m the business manager. When it comes to the money, you have to trust me to know what’s best.”
“Not that we’re doing this,” Emma said, “but my stipulation is that you stay out of my way. In other words, we are not friends and we each remain in our own lane.”
“Well, look at that. Miss Goody-Two-Shoes grew claws.”
“Out of necessity. Also, I’m confused. Are we still mortal enemies?”
Alison shrugged. “I do like to keep my enemies closer than my friends.”
“You have friends?”
“One more stipulation,” Alison said. “No jokes.”
“Who was joking?”
“Ha ha. Yes or no, Emma. You in, or do I take my money and walk away?”
Emma opened her mouth, then shut it again. God. Was she actually considering this? It was insanity.
But no more than not doing it . . .
Chapter 13
Step 13: Say nice things to people.
Alison found herself holding her breath. She’d been wanting something of her own on the side, something to prove to herself she could bring true value—and make money—without the benefit of nepotism. If it worked out, it was a chance at something no one could take away from her, or cut her out of for not being good enough.
Paw Pals would be so perfect.
She prided herself on being cool as a cucumber, but something about this place really drew her in, made her feel . . . warm and cozy, which, let’s be honest, she rarely felt.
Yep, Emma had said they wouldn’t be friends, and Alison had agreed just to save face. She knew she had a lot of learning to do in the way of creating and maintaining relationships. But she wanted this, badly. The only thing she wanted more was Ryan.
“You really believe we could be partners and not kill each other,” Emma said, still heavy on the skepticism.
“I look horrible in orange jumpsuits, so yes. I believe we can do this.” Alison paused. “You don’t?”
Emma looked away. “Partnership hasn’t worked out so well for me in the past.”
“There’s always a first time for everything, right? And you don’t know, maybe we’ll even like it.”
“Doubtful,” Emma said. “But luckily for you I’m desperate.”
“Is that a yes?”
Emma didn’t answer. Her color was suddenly off and she appeared to be breathing oddly as she shifted, standing on just her right leg, like a flamingo. “Hey, you okay?”
“Yes.” Emma gritted her teeth. “Shit. No. Dammit.” She clasped her left leg with a strangled sound of pain. When she hit the floor, Hog woke from a dead sleep, jumping to all fours looking very confused and befuddled. He searched wide-eyed for his human, found her on the floor, and scrambled over to her, whining as he nudged his face to hers.
Alison ran too, skipping the face nudging. “Another cramp?”
Emma rolled around, face twisted in agony. Hog tipped his head back and started howling.
Alison tried to drop to the floor at Emma’s side, but her pencil skirt was too tight. She had to stop and hike it up to her thighs before she could drop to her knees. “Talk to me.”
Emma did not, so Alison yanked out her phone. “Okay, this time I’m really calling 911.”
“No! Don’t! And Hog, stop, I’m okay.”
Alison sat back on her heels, watching Emma roll back and forth for a few long minutes, face pale, holding her breath, eyes shimmery with unshed tears. “This is more than a cramp, Emmie.”
“I’m fine, Ali.” Emma ground her teeth. “Fucking insurance—”
“What can I do?”
“You can get up. You’re flashing me your yoo-hoo.”
Alison looked down. “Yoo-hoo? Who calls it a yoo-hoo?”
“My mom,” Emma grated out, digging her fingers deep into the muscles of her leg. “She thinks it’s cuter than va-jay-jay or hoo-ha.”
“Wow. And talk to me.”
“It’s . . . just a cramp.”
“Bullshit.”
“I need another surgical procedure,” Emma said tightly, “but I’ve had a bunch already, and now my insurance is dragging their feet with approval.”