“Everything okay?” he asks.
I barely even hear him, bringing the phone to my ear.
“Hey, Ems, what’s up?”
“Jeremy, can you come get me?” My spine snaps straight at Emma’s trembling whisper. I’m used to the quiet voice she uses around me when we’re around our friends, and the authoritative lawyer voice she uses when we’re talking about the foundation, but I’ve never heard this voice before. This voice is scared. This voice has me grabbing my keys from behind the bar and walking towards the back door before I even register I’m moving, my brain immediately conjuring ten different scenarios that would make her call me to pick her up from a date, each worse than the last.
I glance back at Ben, gesturing towards the door, and he nods.
“Text me and let me know she’s okay.”
I wave in assent and turn my attention back to Emma.
“I’m already on my way Ems; can you tell me where you are?” I walk out of the bar into the pouring rain, grateful that I parked in the alley right outside the back door.
I slide into my car and start the engine as she says, “I’m at Pour, the new wine bar on Penn Avenue.”
“Okay, I can be there in ten minutes. Are you safe, sweetheart?”
“Yeah.” She sniffs. “I’m in the bathroom. I was about to leave to go home but then the storm started, and I can’t…I mean I don’t…” She takes a ragged breath. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t know who else to call.”
I take a deep breath, relieved that this seems to be about the storm and not any of the other terrible things I’m now thinking about.
“You never have to be sorry, Ems. I’m happy you called. You can always call. I’m already in my car.”
“Thanks, Jeremy. Can you…” She breaks off, hesitating before she speaks again, her voice even quieter. “Can you come in and get me when you get here? The thunder is really loud and it’s raining so hard, and I don’t want to walk outside by myself. I hate storms.”
My heart squeezes at the vulnerability in her voice, and I wonder briefly what this is all about but keep my focus on Emma. I don’t often feel like I can be what anyone needs, but right now, in this moment, I can do this for her.
“Of course I can, Ems. Just hang on. I’ll be there soon.”
Chapter Six
Jeremy
Ipull up to the curb outside Pour and throw my car into park. It’s a no parking zone but I don’t give a fuck. I keep hearing Emma’s shaking voice in my head, and it makes me move faster, the distance between me and where she is sitting, alone and afraid, unacceptable.
I shove out of my car into the rain and jog to the green awning covering the entrance. It’s almost ten, but the restaurant is packed. The hostess tries to make eye contact with me, but I breeze past her, heading to the back to where I assume the restrooms are.
As I walk down the narrow hallway, the door to the ladies’ room swings open and a woman walks out.
“Excuse me,” I say to her. “Is there anyone else in there?”
Her gaze sweeps down my body and back up again, an appreciative gleam in her eyes.
“Why do you ask? You want to go have some fun? I’d be up for that.” Her voice is low and raspy and maybe I should analyze why nothing about her stirs my interest in the slightest, but right now all I can think is that she’s standing between Emma and me, and my frustration rises.
“Maybe some other time. I’m looking for a friend of mine and I think she’s in the bathroom. Did you notice anyone else in there?”
She shrugs a good-natured shoulder. “Your loss. There was one other person, and I thought maybe she was crying or something? I asked her if she was okay because, you know, girls have to look out for each other, but she didn’t say anything and…”
“Okay, thanks so much.” I cut her off and move straight to the ladies’ room. I pray she was telling the truth and I’m not about to walk into a bathroom full of women. But when I pull open the door, it’s empty but for a pair of feet under a stall door and the sound of ragged breathing.
“Ems, is that you?” I flip the lock on the bathroom door so no one walks in and freaks out at a man in the ladies’ room and tap lightly on the closed stall door.
The lock clicks and I’m able to push the door open. Emma is sitting on the closed toilet seat, staring at the floor, her hands shaking slightly and twisted together in her lap. I crouch in front of her, covering her hands with one of mine, and lay my other hand on her cheek to tip her face up.
Her mossy green eyes are watery and filled with fear, and I immediately want to put myself in between her and anything that scares her. I’ve never known how to be a caretaker; growing up the way I did doesn’t exactly give you many good models of how to care for another person. So, my instinct to wrap her up and give her everything she needs and chase away all her fears is new for me. I’m not sure exactly what to do with it, but I plow ahead and hope I get it right.
