Beau, Robert, and I walk through the student housing cafeteria. We've been given a tour of the halls we built that are currently leased by The College of Charleston, and they seem in good shape. Well-lit, freshly painted, clean. Students sit around in groups or dart here and there, late for afternoon class.

I wonder if Emmy went to college here. I never asked specifically, but in our long talk as we fell asleep last night, I thought I remembered her mentioning it. Checking my phone I see she hasn't contacted me in the last several hours. Not that she needs to. It's ridiculous how much I've grown to react to the vibration of a message that might be from her. To need it.

"Okay, well," Robert finally says. "I think that should do it for today. Are we seeing you for dinner?"

"You are. Beau already mentioned it." I nod at my cousin as he hands me a water.

"Great, then I'll leave you two here if you don't mind. Beau, you'll take Trystan by the office and introduce him around?"

"Will do."

We shake hands and my uncle heads out the exit.

I look at my watch.

"You late for something?" Beau asks, his eyebrows raised.

I shake my head. "Nah. I think Emmy might be coming back today, and I need to make a plan to switch phones with her." Something shifts unpleasantly inside me. It feels like disappointment. And I'm not sure, but it feels like I'm disappointed in myself. I have this feeling like I'm on the brink of something that's about to disappear unless I'm careful, and part of me feels like it's already too late.

"Do you think you'll ask her out?"

I exhale. "I don't know," I answer honestly. The thought of not asking her out is ludicrous, after everything we've shared. But on the other hand it also feels like the very reason I shouldn't. I'm so conflicted. "Anyway, I'm headed back up to New York."

"How long for?"

"At least until the sale of my business goes through. But I'm not sure I'm ready to leave New York. I'll have to be here often, of course. But moving here?" I shake my head.

"From what little you've shared, it seems like she's not the one-and-done type of girl."

"You've got that right. She's in a different category, but I'm not sure I know what that is."

"Maybe just friends?"

I think of what that could be like. We could still talk to each other. I'd tell her about my life and my dates, she could tell me if she was having any luck finding normal guys on the dating apps. My stomach turns. No. I can't hear about Emmy dating other men. Imagining those little sounds and gasps she makes when she comes . . . happening with someone else? Fuck no. I close my eyes. "Definitely not just friends." Shit. I think I really complicated things. But I don't know her in real life. That's probably what's making it feel different. So confusing.

"Question," Beau starts. "Do you think it would be better for me to marry a friend or a stranger?"

"Wow, hit me with a big one, why don't you?" I laugh, and we walk outside onto Liberty Street.

"Ha. Well, it's pretty big. I want to build boats. It's all I've ever wanted to do. Now I get a chance to do it, but only if I get married. I have a good friend. Not sure if you remember Gwen from when we were growing up?"

I wrack my brain, searching into the memory banks of the two summers I'd spent here, but come up empty. "No, sorry."

"Okay, well. We're friends. Good friends."

"Ever anything more?"

"Never. I mean, don't get me wrong, when we were teenagers I thought maybe we could have a thing, but she never really gave me that vibe, and I was too shy to push it. So it kind of morphed into a friendship. I'd even say she's one of my best friends. So it makes me think . . . should I just ask her to marry me, knowing we get along great but it means she misses out on her chance to find someone? Or do I find a stranger and have a neatly drawn up business arrangement?"

I discard my empty water bottle in a nearby recycling can and stuff my hands into my dark jeans pockets. "I'm about as far from the best person to advise you on this, having never been, nor ever planning, to be married."

"I know. But I thought maybe if you were me for a second . . . what would you do?"

"If it were me, I'd keep it as clean as possible. No room for misunderstandings. I'd still be able to date without worrying about confusing anyone."

"So . . . marry a stranger?"

"You asked what I would do." I shrug. "I also know I've been pretty relentless about keeping my distance from women's feelings." Even as the words come out of my mouth, I think of Emmy. But knowing someone over a phone, and hearing them cry and cheering them up, is different. "But you're you," I tell Beau.

He frowns. "I'd have to pick someone Gwen got along with though. I don't plan on losing her or any of my friends because they don't like my business wife."

"Yeah, definitely be careful. You'd have to find someone for whom the arrangement was equally beneficial. How long do you have to stay married?"

"I have no idea. The stipulation is I have to get married. It doesn't say stay married."

I shake my head again at my grandfather's perverse sense of humor. "He was a real piece of work."

"Grandfather? Yeah, he was. But Suzy and I were talking about it. Look at us. Here you are in Charleston. Grandmother is trying to make nice, which she never did before. And planning a wedding? Two weddings? That's going to require everyone to talk to each other. He might have been a sadistic son of a bitch, but he sure knew how to get us all in a room together to sort all our shit out."

"True."

We hit Broad Street and Beau points left. "Let's swing into the office."

---

At the Montgomery offices I see the two accountants I've already met and also meet some other support staff. Then after an hour I say my goodbyes to Beau and walk back to Emmy's. If I ever move to Charleston, I'll definitely look at living in the French Quarter. I love this part of the city. Ha, city, not town. I catch myself. With a smile, I pull the silent phone out of my back pocket even though I know it hasn't buzzed just as it vibrates.

My pulse spikes.

But it's a text from Annie.

---

Annie: Have fun tonight at Django. I'm so jealous, can't wait to dance the baby weight off with you and Armand. Have a shot for me!

---

I guess Annie still doesn't know Emmy doesn't have her phone and is stuck in New York. I realize I never forwarded Annie's contact info when Emmy asked me. I do it now while I'm thinking about it.

The hotel told me Emmy left this morning. I haven't told her I know this, but it made me think she might be coming back today. Surely if she is she'd have let me know. I’m staying in her place after all.

I give in to curiosity and pull up the Find My iPhone screen on my laptop. I log in and wait as it zeros in on a map of the New York area. I zoom in all the way and I'm super aware of my heart beating heavier in my chest. I'm not nervous. Maybe I'm—my stomach swoops.

The airport.

Last seen a few hours ago.

Emmy's coming home.

And for some reason she hasn't told me.

---

After a quick shower, where I'm completely incapable of shutting out thoughts about all the reasons Emmy hasn't told me she's coming home, I brush my teeth then wrap a towel around my waist and jog down the stairs to the stackable washer and dryer in a cabinet by the kitchen area. I open the dryer and pull my clothes out, hastily taking them back upstairs and dumping them on the bed. Then I pull on a clean pair of boxers and jeans. I'll have to re-wear a white button-down shirt to go with the jacket I need to wear to dinner. I roll up all my other clean clothes into my suitcase, in case I have to vacate her cottage, but God knows where I'll stay.

I slip on my jacket and check my watch. There's just enough time to knock on Armand's door before I have to leave for dinner.

Why does it bother me so much? I'm completely off-balance. I should be happy I'll get my phone back.

Last night has crept into my mind so often today that just the sound of her voice on the phone earlier gave me a semi.

Emmy hasn't read anything more into our call last night than what it was. I don't think. But what was it exactly? I'm not sure I know. It felt exhilarating and terrifying all at once. As soon as it was over, my main fear was that Emmy would retreat. And I hung on to make sure she didn't. If that had been two people hooking up in real life last night, my main fear would have been how to leave. I would have been out the door so fast, I'd have left a scorch mark on the carpet.

The fact I'm still thinking about it should bother me, except I'm relieved it's taken my mind off the fact I have to face Isabel Montgomery this evening.

I leave the cottage and head to Armand's. He'd mentioned he lives above the café, so I head to the fire escape stairs on the side of his building and knock on his door.

"Trystan," he greets me, surprised. "Everything okay at the cottage?"

"Yeah, I think so. Can I come in for a second? I can't stay long."

We shake hands and he steps back. "Si, si," he says and offers me a seat.

"How was business today?"

"Good. It's always good. I'm lucky. Can I offer you a cerveza?"

I put my palm up. "I'm good. I—" This is stupid—sitting here ferreting out info about a girl like I have a crush or something.

Shit.

Of course I have a crush. That much is pretty clear. I stand up. I'll be late if I don't leave now. "Is Emmy coming back to Charleston tonight? She hasn't told me, and I feel like she should have her cottage back if she is."

Armand looks conflicted. "Si," he says. "She is coming back. But she said you must stay at her cottage, she made another plan."

My stomach clenches. She didn't tell me that. I look around. It doesn't seem like a big enough apartment to have guests. Maybe she's staying with Annie or something. "Okay, well. Thanks." I stand. “Oh, I need to buy a bottle of wine. Can you direct me?”

Armand gives me instructions as he sees me to the door. "See you, Trystan."

"Bye." Lifting a hand, I give him a short wave and leave.