Heart Block (12 page)

“I’m so sorry I’m late. The 805 was nightmarish.”

Sarah hopped easily into the passenger seat. “No problem.”

Emory took a moment to catch her breath and took Sarah in. “So, hi.”

“Hi.”

“You look great.” An understatement. Sarah wore a simple off-red cocktail dress. Not too dressy, but just enough. “Ready to celebrate your wild success?”

Sarah grinned like a kid on her way to Disneyland, and Emory’s heart did that thing where it tugged pleasantly. “Please, let’s. I’ve always wanted to go for a night at the theater; I’ve just never gotten around to it. I’ve also always wanted to say ‘night at the theater,’ and now I have. Two birds.”

“Glad to help.”

“I’m glad you invited me.”

“Me too.” Emory stole another indulgent glance at Sarah before turning her attention to the road.

“How was the world of corporate news today?”

“Not too bad a day. We had some press releases go out for some important clients this morning and no glitches that I’ve heard about. But then again, we also had two errors on smaller accounts out of the Denver office. Unfortunately, that’s fairly normal for them. We’re working on their error rate.” She winced apologetically. “This is boring. You were probably just being polite.”

Sarah laughed. “I’ve never once thought of you as boring, you know that? Boring is one thing you can cross off the list of adjectives I use to describe you.”

“There’s a list? Now you tell me.”

“I don’t have to report everything back to you. It’s not like I work for you, you know.”

“Touché.”

Things felt easy between them and Emory relaxed, content to enjoy the evening for whatever it was. She’d be lying if she told herself she hadn’t already noticed how brightly Sarah’s eyes shone when she laughed or how her hair, when pulled partially back, was both simple and alluring.

Sarah checked her watch. They’d arrived at the theater with little time to spare before curtain, and they maneuvered the steps as quickly as they could. It was difficult for Sarah to keep pace in her I’m-trying-to-look-nice-tonight shoes. Emory seemed like she was born wearing killer pumps and took the steps like a pro. “Easy now, I don’t wear heels ten hours a day.” But she was laughing.

Emory reached out. “Take my hand.”

So she did, finding the steps infinitely easier now.

Emory smiled. “Better?”

“Much.” Sarah liked how vibrant she felt alongside Emory and how much she got a kick out of Emory’s smile. She hadn’t seen a lot of it up until this point, but it was quite possibly the most striking thing she’d ever seen.

Once they were inside, the house manager greeted them. “Good evening, Ms. Owen. The curtain is just about to rise. Let’s get you to your seats. Right this way, ladies.” He escorted them quickly down the aisle to their fifth row seats. Sarah sighed with relief that they’d made it on time.

Then she took in the view. “These are amazing seats,” she breathed.

“I’m glad you like them. These tickets have been in my family for years. It’s a shame I don’t get to put them to use more often.”

“You really should.” Sarah’s attention drifted to the patrons around them. Most were in the midst of animated conversations. There was a serious amount of fancy jewelry, shoes, and designer bags on display. And she was pretty sure they were all real. That little annoying voice in the back of her head began its song.
One of these things is not like the others
.

Emory leaned in. “This show, however, I’ve been interested in checking out. I’ve met Adrienne Kenyon, the lead actress, a couple of times at various charity functions, and she’s always such a good sport about doing whatever we need. She’s supposed to be killer in this role.”

“I can’t wait,” Sarah whispered just as the house lights dimmed around them. For the next two and a half hours, Sarah was transported to another world entirely. She was captivated not only by the story that unfolded in front of her, but by all of the dazzling technical aspects of the production as well. By the end, she didn’t hesitate to jump to her feet in standing ovation. She knew she’d like the show before she came, but she was moved in a way she wasn’t prepared for.

During the standing ovation, Emory watched Sarah rather than the actors onstage, much in the way she’d managed glances at her throughout the show. Sarah was probably the most expressive audience member she’d sat alongside, genuinely laughing on cue and gasping audibly at each shocking revelation along the way. Seeing the show through her eyes made it ten times more enjoyable, and it had already been an exciting night of theater. Sarah, she realized, clearly understood how to enjoy herself, and she’d be lying if she said it wasn’t a contagious quality.

As they exited the theater, Sarah was beyond enthusiastic. “I had no idea a musical could be like that! I’ve seen the movie version of
Oklahoma
and a local production of
Chitty Chitty Bang Bang
when Grace was six, but it was nothing like that. I’m in absolute awe if you can’t tell.”

Emory liked seeing Sarah so happy. She had to say it was ridiculously attractive on her. “So you didn’t like it at all then?”

“Stop it.” Sarah laughed and nudged Emory with her shoulder. “It was easily the coolest thing anyone has ever taken me to.” And with that, Sarah took Emory’s hand in hers in a move that felt so natural it startled Emory. The warmth of that physical connection was motivation to do anything she could think of to prolong the night just a little bit longer.

“Want to take a walk around downtown? We could head over to the Gaslamp District. There’s a quaint little wine bar I know. That is unless you need to get home. I mean, if you have to pick up Grace soon, we can always just—”

“No, I’d love to. Take a walk, that is. Grace is fine. I called over to my brother’s at intermission, and he said the girls were playing poker with him and his buddies. Apparently, Grace is up eight dollars.” Emory raised an amused eyebrow. “I told you I have an unusual child.”

“Unusual can be good, I think. It keeps life exciting.”

Sarah’s eyes darkened and she glanced away. “You know, I think I could do with a little less excitement for a while. Boring would be just fine with me.”

Emory inclined her head sideways. “Are you referring to something in particular? What kind of excitement are we talking about?”

Sarah pulled her hand from Emory’s and turned to face her. “A story for another time? I’m having too much fun tonight.”

“Me too, by the way,” Emory answered softly. “And we can talk or not talk about anything you want.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

“In that case, I do have one question for you.”

“Ask away.”

“Are we on a date tonight?”

“Oh. Hmmm. Well, I didn’t exactly…Wow, let me try this again.”
Smooth, Emory, so smooth
. Gone was the confidence she’d exuded her entire life and the ease of communication that she’d always relied on. For some reason, Sarah Matamoros had the ability to strip her of that skill set. Left without a witty line or confident declaration, Emory sighed and decided to level with Sarah. She lifted one shoulder weakly. “I didn’t know.”

“Okay. That’s fair.”

They walked in silence for a few moments.

“I was just asking because you did kiss my brains out the last time I saw you.”

Emory froze, shocked at the blatant declaration. “Is that what I did?”

“I’d say that’s an accurate description, yeah.”

“Again, sorry for the attack.”

“Do you always apologize so much after you kiss someone?”

Emory thought about it. It was a legitimate question. “No. I guess this would be new. A lot of new lately, it seems.”

They walked on.

There was a chill in the night air the way there was always a chill in the night air in a typical August in California, but Emory didn’t notice. Sideways glances at Sarah left her utterly captivated at the way the moonlight seemed to accentuate the green flecks in her eyes. Sarah looked back at her, seeming to catch her staring, and smiled. Oh, that was dangerous. Emory shook her head in amazement. Who smiles like that? Honestly. She felt that smile all the way down to her toes. “If I’m being forthright, it did cross my mind.”

“What?” Sarah seemed puzzled.

“The date.”

More silence.

Ouch. Emory felt as if she’d crashed and burned. Not a big deal, she told herself. It was probably better in the scheme of things. She should now do whatever she could to save the evening and enjoy spending time with her friend.

“I’m a little embarrassed,” Sarah finally said.

“Don’t be. Please.”

“Because I thought it was.”

Emory stopped walking and blinked as understanding arrived. “And you said yes.”

“And I said yes.” Sarah started walking again, leaving a pleasantly mystified Emory behind.

“So this is a date?” Emory called after her.

Sarah turned and walked backward, smiling all the way. “No way. You didn’t think it was.”

“Yes. Yes, I did. I just didn’t want to seem too presumptuous.” Emory closed the distance between them and arrived on the sidewalk alongside Sarah. “Maybe we should try this again.”

Sarah’s smile faded and she stared back at her sincerely. “Okay.”

“So I was thinking,”

“You were? That’s awesome.”

“You’re so very funny.”

“Thank you.”

Emory continued. “Well, I thought it might be nice to take you out, on a date, to this little place I know that serves great wine. What do you say?”

“You know, the wine part sounds fun. I think we should go, but the date thing I’m going to have to think about.”

Emory nodded, smiling at the irony but catching the playful twinkle in Sarah’s eye. “Okay. Take your time. But while you’re thinking it over, I’m going to take your hand back as we walk. It’s a little chilly out here, and you’re nice and warm.”

“Well, as long as it’s for weather purposes.”

“Strictly.”

A short walk later, they arrived at the Gaslamp District, an historic section of San Diego that was transformed in the late eighties to an eclectic, hip, urban stomping ground. It offered hundreds of entertainment options and came alive at night when the old-fashioned gas lamps began to glow. They strolled past sidewalk cafes, nightclubs, boutiques, and coffee houses, dodging the throngs of people that crowded the streets. Emory was pleased to find a jazz trio on the corner just adjacent to The Grape House, the wine bar she frequented.

“Inside or out?” Emory asked.

“Outside, definitely. There’s something about sitting under the stars with you that I seem to like. Plus, there’s music.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” Emory arranged for a table outside, and with Sarah’s permission, ordered two glasses of her favorite Sangiovese.

Sarah sipped from the oversized glass. “Oh wow, this is smooth.”

“I know. I first fell in love with this bottle on a trip to Milan last year. I was surprised to find it right here in San Diego, but that’s why I love this little place. They have all the greats.”

“I take it you’re very well traveled.”

“For the most part, yes. What about you?”

“Not as exciting a history, I’m afraid. Mexico, before my father moved us to the U.S. and now California, most of its big cities. I’ve read about a lot of other places though.”

Emory was intrigued. “You’re telling me you’ve never been out of California?”

“Never been on a plane either. Try not to look so shocked over there. I’ll do it one day. Maybe when Grace is a little older, we’ll head out and see some sights.” Sarah’s eyes fell to the table then. She seemed to noticeably withdraw, and Emory internally cringed at having been the cause.

“That’ll be fun.” Emory took a sip of wine. “You mentioned growing up in Mexico. What was that like?”

Sarah sat back in her chair, her eyes reflective. “I don’t remember a lot about it. Mainly being around family, my grandparents. Most of my childhood memories center more on making the transition here. Learning the language, the culture at school, I remember being frustrated a lot.”

“In what way?” Emory reached across to the center of the table and interlaced her fingers with Sarah’s. Sarah stared at their hands, her expression unreadable, before continuing.

“More than anything, I just wanted to fit in, and that meant being American, just like most of the other kids. It didn’t exactly go well. But I never stopped trying. I took mental notes on all the cool things the kids from California did, said, and wore and then went home and wrote them down so I’d remember. I actually did that. Then I’d rehearse popular phrases with an American accent alone in my room.” She took a sip of wine. “I even went so far as altering my name on the first day of sixth grade. I guess I always felt like an outsider looking in. It wasn’t until late in high school that I finally started to accept myself and be okay with my own culture and where I came from. It didn’t happen overnight though. It was a process. I guess it still is.”

Emory didn’t like the story, and the idea of Sarah doing everything in her power to be liked tugged at her heart. “If it’s any consolation, I like who you are. A lot.”

“Thanks, but you may want to reserve judgment until after football season starts. You haven’t met the rabid Chargers fan that lives within.”

“I’m afraid already. Wait. Can we backtrack a minute? I’m interested to hear about the name change you mentioned. Is your given name not Sarah?”

“No, it is but without the h, pronounced
Sada
. I always had to correct my teachers on the pronunciation on the first day of school. Then one year, I stopped doing it and started writing an h after my name on all of my papers. And then magically, I was Sarah. Again, doing everything I could to be on the inside track.”

“Sara is a very pretty name. You could always go back to it.”

“No, I’m afraid that ship has sailed. I’ve been Sarah for too long now. Even my parents have adopted it.”

They finished the last of their wine while listening to the jazz combo that had recently returned from a break.

Emory couldn’t remember the last time she’d enjoyed an evening out so much. She was thoroughly content in this moment and more relaxed than she’d been in a long, long time. The music, the company, and the nice glass of wine were all to thank for that. The waitress politely dropped the leather bound book containing the check onto their table. Emory reached for it casually, but was beaten to the punch.