So she’d given them both raises.

Emma was also here, effortlessly playing nice with all who came into the shop, making instant friends for life like she’d been born to it. Which of course she had. Emma’s parents had been beloved members of the community. Hell, Emma was practically Wildstone royalty.

“You keep frowning like that and it’s going to stick,” Emma said as she walked by.

“I’m not frowning.”

Emma pulled out her phone, accessed the camera, and turned it to face Alison. Damn, frowning really wasn’t a great look for her. “Whatever.”

“If you’d just try and fix things with Ryan, you could turn that frown upside down.”

“Oh my God. Please stop talking. And ‘turn that frown upside down’? Are you watching Sesame Street?”

“Have you called him? Enacted our plan?”

“You mean your plan?”

“I was trying to be inclusive,” Emma said. “And stop trying to divert me. I can’t be diverted.”

“You know, people think you’re so sweet.”

“Step one,” Emma said after whipping out her phone to review her notes. “You were going to try being his friend.”

“I’m working on that,” Alison said. In fact, she was practicing at this very moment, on Emma herself. Again, she decided it was best to keep that little detail to herself.

“Step two,” Emma went on. “Pay attention, show interest, ask questions. Step three, care about the things he cares about, like his family and friends. Step four, flirt with him. Smile—” She slid a look to Alison.

Alison feigned a smile.

Emma rolled her eyes. “Step five, don’t try to change him, accept him, flaws and all.”

The problem with that was the flaws weren’t Ryan’s. They were hers.

“Did you do any of that?” Emma asked.

Alison had thought about it only every second of every single day, but no, she hadn’t actually made a move yet.

Emma shook her head. “Wow. I didn’t see that coming.”

“What?”

“You’re a coward.”

Alison narrowed her eyes. She was a lot of things, but she refused to believe she was a coward. “You take that back.”

“Live your damn life, Ali.”

“Alison.”

“Whoever you want to be,” Emma said with a wave of her hand. “Just live it like it was meant to be lived. Forgive yourself and move on.”

“Forgive myself for what exactly, Emmie?”

Emma glared at her. “Whatever’s eating at you.”

Whelp, there happened to be a long list. Letting Ryan down. Pushing people away. Not letting herself fall because she feared getting hurt . . .

“While you’re figuring all that out, I’ll just—”

Alison looked over when Emma didn’t finish that sentence and found her staring out the window at that same man they’d seen before. The man who’d hit Emma with his car. He was walking down the street, away from them. “Emma?”

Her partner didn’t budge. Didn’t blink.

“I thought you wanted to talk to him. Now’s your chance.”

Still nothing. Emma had become a statue.

Alison sighed and put her hand on Emma’s arm. She was still as a statue. And chilled. “Hey, what was it you just told me? Live my life?” She leaned in closer. “So, live your life.”

Emma drew in a deep breath and nodded. “Yes.”

But she still didn’t move.

“Do you want a push?”

Ignoring this, Emma fully galvanized and moved closer to the window. “He looks okay, right?”

“I mean . . . how do you tell?”

Emma swiveled her head, eyes wide. “Because I need him to be okay!”

“Right.” Alison nodded at the crazy lady. “He looks great.”

Emma shook her head and headed for the door. She stopped, hand on the handle. “Maybe I should just leave him alone?”

Dear God, they were both in trouble if Emma wanted advice from Alison. “Live your life,” she said, repeating Emma’s words, and gave her the shoo hands. “It seems like you can’t do that until you talk to him, so go already.”

Emma stepped outside.

Alison hurried to the window and watched Emma watch Jack Swanson turn the corner and vanish from view.

Emma came back inside, looking a little sick. Without making eye contact, she moved behind the counter and fiddled with the display next to the computer.

“What are you doing?”

“Working,” Emma said. “You?”

“Watching my partner pretend she has her shit together.”

“Oh, and you think you have your shit together?”

“I know I don’t. But I might actually have it slightly more together than you.” A terrifying thought. “Why didn’t you chase him down?”

Emma didn’t answer, just came around the counter as a woman entered the building, holding a carrier with two little Chihuahuas, both barking loudly. Luna and Rex were checked in and taken to the “salty” yard, where Dale sat. He said he related to the salts.

He was here because Simon had needed to take an emergency client for Kelly, who was out of town, and had he called Alison for help? No. He had not. He’d called Alison’s business partner.

And, given the well-satisfied glow Emma was wearing, they weren’t spending their nights staring at the TV like Alison was. She was happy for them. Sort of. No, dammit. She was happy for them. That was one of the rules she’d learned in this whole being in a relationship with someone. You had to be happy for them when good things occurred in their lives. Even if you tended to self-destruct your own happiness at every turn.

“We used to have a Chihuahua,” Dale said. “She got out one day. Just ran across the street into the woods and was never seen again. Assumed she ran into a coyote.”

Alison gaped at him. “You told us she’d gone to live on a farm upstate.”

Dale grimaced. “Um. Yes?”

Alison shook her head. “Oh my God.”

Emma gave her a sympathetic gaze.

“No,” Alison said, pointing at her. “I don’t want sympathy from the person sleeping with my cousin while pretending nothing’s going on.”