Page 71 of Ruthless Edge

He stares at her for a long moment.

Then he turns and walks away, noticeably faster than before.

I wait until he's gone and then I lose it entirely.

"What," I say, when I can talk, "was that?"

"I love getting under his skin," Paige says contentedly. "He's such a sourpuss. He walks around looking personally offended by other people's existence. That's practically an invitation."

"He does not like you."

"Blake doesn't like anyone. That makes me practically his best friend." She turns back toward the dresses like she didn't just publicly call a six-foot-two hockey player Bubble Butt in the middle of a mall. "Now. Gala dress. I'm thinking something in a wine color."

I follow her, still laughing. But I noticed the thing I noticed, which is that Blake walked over here when Paige called him. He clearly saw her, clearly had somewhere to be, and he came anyway. And he stood there for a long time at the end, not moving, just looking at her with an expression I couldn't read before he finally left.

He walked away faster after the Bubble Butt thing, though. I'll give her that.

We pull several more options and I'm holding a wine-colored dress against myself trying to decide whether the shade works when Paige says, "What time tonight?"

"Nine," I say.

"And you told Knox the bar on Calder Street?"

"I texted him this morning."

Paige nods, satisfied. "He'll see it. He can't miss it. We've set the whole thing up perfectly."

"I know." I put the wine dress back and pick up a navy one instead. "I know we have. I'm just⁠—"

"Nervous?"

I look at the dress. "It seemed so obvious when I said it at The Hawthorne. I know what Laura does. I can show him. And then he'll understand why I've been keeping my distance and he'll—" I stop. "I don't know what I think will happen after."

"After he sees it?"

"After he understands it." I put the navy dress in the try pile. "If he understands it already, I’m wasting my time. And if he doesn’t understand it, but finally does, I don’t know what I want the outcome to be."

"It’ll work out perfectly."

"You don't know that."

"Emma." Paige turns to look at me. "Why does it matter so much whether he believes you?"

I don't answer, which is an answer.

"If Knox wants Laura, who cares," she says, not unkindly. "And if Knox doesn't want Laura, that's information, but it doesn't by itself change anything between you two. So why are you nervous about tonight?"

If only it was that simple, but I can’t just word-vomit the truth, so I say the first thing I can think of that sounds reasonable.

"Because I want to be right," I say.

"You are right. You know Laura. You've been watching her for years. You're right."

I don’t know what to say to that, but it’s good to hear.

"Okay," she says. "One thing at a time. Tonight, the Laura thing. The rest of it after."

"The rest of it after," I agree.