An (Almost) Perfect Love Story (Love Story Book Three) Read Free Page A

freshman year of college, long before Chris and I started dating. The fierce foursome, Ryan liked to say. It had been way too long since the whole gang had been together.
    “Well, have fun,” Susan said. “I promise I’ll be in a better mood by Monday.”
    I grinned at her. “I expect you’ll be your old moody self by Tuesday morning, at the latest.”
    Susan snorted and walked to the door. “You know me too well. Have a good weekend, Ash.”
    “You, too,” I called after her.
    I looked down at my lesson plans, sighing a little. Get it done now, and you’ll have the rest of the weekend to yourself. With thoughts of the white wine I was sure Emily would have chilled for me by the time I got home, I put my head down and got to work.

    Chapter Three
    As expected, Emily had a cheap bottle of white wine waiting in the fridge when I arrived back at the apartment. “Hey, Ash!” she called out from her bedroom when I opened the front door. “Wine’s in the fridge. I’ll be out in a minute.”
    “Hi,” I called back, dropping my bag and slipping out of my heels. Emily constantly teased me for dressing up for work. “You run around after six year olds all day,” she would say. “Why not do it in tennis shoes?” It was hard to explain to someone who didn’t care about fashion how much better a really cute pair of peep-toed heels could make your day.
    I headed to the kitchen, smiling at the sight of two wine glasses on the table. Emily and I often celebrated the end of our workweek with wine. Now that she was running her own business, her schedule wasn’t as regular as mine; lately it seemed like she’d had to stay late on Fridays almost every week.
    I grabbed the pinot grigio from the fridge. As I started to pour, Emily appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, wrapped up in her old plaid bathrobe, her hair wet from a shower. “Hey,” she said. “Ooh, you found the wine. Goodie.”
    I barely managed to suppress a sigh at the sight of Emily. Even fresh from a shower, sans makeup and clad in frayed flannel, Emily was beautiful. It was hard not to be jealous of her sometimes. Where I was on the shorter side, Emily was tall and thin with an athletic build I would never manage to achieve, even if I did manage to go to the gym more than once or twice a year.
    To add insult to injury, Emily had long, straight blonde hair that I would have killed for, though she often complained that it wouldn’t take a curl to save her life. I could not relate as I had been blessed—or cursed, depending on the humidity—with an overabundance of mousey brown curls. I did my best to combat the mousiness with regular appointments with a stylist who somehow managed to get golden highlights to peek out through the mess of curls. I had recently let him talk me into cutting my hair into a longish bob. He had assured me I’d look like Sarah Jessica Parker, my style icon, from the fourth season of Sex and the City , when Carrie cut her hair after breaking up with Aidan. On good days, I liked the new style, but on frizzy days, I longed for the sleek control of my best friend’s long locks.
    Emily joined me at the kitchen table. “How was your day?”
    “Pretty tiring,” I admitted. “Kids were hyper. But it’s Friday, that’s typical.”
    “I still get hyper on Fridays,” she said, laughing.
    “How was your day?”
    Emily groaned in response. “I have the whiniest client right now. Seriously, he’s driving me crazy. He never wants to do any work, he complains about every exercise I assign him. I’m starting to dread it every time I see his name on the schedule.”
    I wrinkled my nose at her. “Why don’t you pass him off on someone else?” I asked. “Isn’t that the point of being the boss?”
    Emily laughed. “True. Maybe I will someday.”
    I smiled at her. “Yeah, right. You like the challenge, I bet. You’d be pissed if someone else managed to get through to him.”
    She made a face at me. “You know me so well. So,