Page 67 of The Fake Script
“Um, I actually am busy. The girls are coming back tomorrow. I’ve been cleaning all morning. The place is a mess.”
I furrow my eyebrows. “You’ve been cleaning all morning, and it’s still a mess?”
“Yes,” she says in a clipped tone. I can’t see her face, but I’m one hundred percent sure she’s lying to me.
I shrug. “Okay. Well, that’s a shame. I was hoping to introduce you to Melissa.”
“Melissa,” she says, her voice suddenly rising three octaves. “Melissa Fortner?She’s here?”
“Not yet, but she’ll be arriving any time now.”
She pauses for an instant, then says, “I’ll be right down.”
I hold back my smile.Thank you, Melissa.
A few minutes later, Emma steps casually out of the building looking like her usual self, which tells me I was right in thinking she was just avoiding me. No one looks that good after cleaning all morning.
“Hey,” I say, giving her a side hug. Her amber perfume fills my senses, and just like that, I’m calmer than I’ve been in days.
“Hey! Is she here yet?”
I give her a pointed look. “Glad to see you too.”
She chuckles, brushing back her bangs. “Sorry, I’m just excited. But I’m equally happy to see you.” She flashes me a smile that hits me straight in the heart.
“So am I.”
“Why, hello there!” Mom announces, strutting toward us and flashing her signature bright smile. “How are you doing, Emma?”
“I’m good, Mrs. Buckley. Excited to meet one of my favorite authors.”
“Ah, Auston told me,” she says, nodding knowingly. “Sounds like you converted him too.”
Emma frowns, swinging to face me.“What?”
I rub the back of my neck. “Um, I read the book.”
“You did?” She stares at me in shock.
“Over the past few days.” I stuff my hands in my pockets. “You were right. I loved it.”
She swats me on the shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
I breathe out a chuckle. “Hey, I read a book. I don’t need to shout it from the rooftops.”
She shakes her head. “That’s exactly what you’re supposed to do. How can you just close a great book and go on with your life? You need to reflect on it, talk to people about the story, review it. A book like that sits with you for days after you read the last page.”
Mom laughs, and I smile along. I love how she gets so animated when she talks about books. “Sorry. I’m not familiar with protocol yet.”
“That’s pretty much what I do all day—read books. Talk about books with my friends on Instagram. Review books. Rinse and repeat.”
“Oh. I guess there’s a lot to it.” I nod, suddenly understanding this Bookstagram thing a little more.
Mom’s phone chimes, and she looks at it, her forehead creasing. “It’s Robyn. She says you haven’t confirmed your attendance at the Brownski wedding this Saturday. They need your RSVP.”
I blink back. “I thought that was canceled.”
“Apparently, it’s back on. So, are you two going?” she asks, her eyes darting between us.