He smiled at that. “I think actually the cliché is that they run to the bright lights because they want to be a star. Not anonymous.”

“Whatever,” she said with a shrug, standing and taking her glass to the sink.

“You’re leaving?”

“I am. I haven’t eaten yet, and I’m starving,” she said, moving toward his front door.

It was on the tip of his tongue to suggest that she stay and eat there. To let him cook her some pasta or eggs or…no.

That would be foolish.

He didn’t even want that. Did he?

Alex followed Emma to the foyer and watched as she turned the doorknob.

Then she turned back. “Cassidy?”

“Yeah.” His voice was gruff, and he was shocked by how much he didn’t want her to go.

Her eyes found his, her expression unexpectedly vulnerable. “Do you ever think we broke each other? Because sometimes…it’s like both of us are unable to feel.”

Alex was definitely feeling right now. But he knew what she meant.

“Yeah, Emma. I think that all the damn time.”

Her smile was sad. “Yeah. I think so, too. Probably best that we keep our distance, then, right? It feels…easier.”

Alex nodded in agreement, because it was what he was supposed to do.

She gave him another sad smile and was gone.

After she left, he found himself staring at the door.

Just an hour ago, he would have said that the wall of ice between Emma and him had been crucial. Even necessary.

But at the moment, he had the strangest urge to chip away at that wall. To see if the real Emma was still there.

Chapter 10

Generally speaking, inviting ex-boyfriends to one’s place of residence wasn’t the smartest of ideas.

But when you were facing a month of revisiting a dozen of your ex-boyfriends…well, that was a lot of painful coffee drinks or awkward dinner/drinks scenarios.

In the end, Emma decided it would be best to be formulaic about it:

Send each man an email or text message.

Ask if he had time to talk.

Invite them over one at a time to Camille’s place.

It wasn’t as bad as it sounded.

Camille’s place had a fussy formality about it that kept anything from feeling too intimate, and this way Emma could keep them all on the same playing field.

Emma had started with the easiest of the bunch. The partridge in the pear tree of her “Twelve Days of Exes” was Clint Macintosh, a publishing executive whose biggest crime in the relationship department was being the nicest guy alive.

And it took Emma all of five minutes of being in his presence to remember why they’d lasted only three months. There was such a thing as too nice. Too smiley. Too cheerful.

Or maybe that was just her. Yeah, it was probably her. Still, Sweet Clint was annoying as all get-out.

“So how does this work?” Clint asked, after they’d exchanged all the usual pleasantries, and after Emma had deliberately ignored Clint’s five mentions that he wasn’t seeing anyone at the moment.

“Well,” Emma said, glancing down at her notebook. “Basically, I’ve come up with three questions to ask each guy, and then I’ll sort of look for patterns, overlaps, et cetera. But you need to know that this isn’t about me bashing my previous boyfriends,” she said, keeping her voice kind. “It’s about me. And I’ll keep your names out of it, so I encourage you to be as honest as possible, even if it hurts my feelings.”

“I would never hurt your feelings, honey,” Clint said with a wide smile.

She forced a smile back. “Okay, you ready for this?”

He set down his coffee cup and leaned back in Camille’s living room chair. “Bring it.”

Emma took a deep breath. Even though it was just Clint, even though she’d thought she could be fully emotionally removed from this, it was harder than she thought to get the first question out.

She hadn’t expected to feel so…vulnerable.

But not going through with this article would be letting Cassidy win.

And as civil as their shared glasses of wine had been the other night, there was no way in hell she’d let him have any impact on her present and future.

He’d already done enough damage on her past. And she on his.

“Okay, first question,” Emma said. “What was your first reaction when you got that email from me? Like we’re talking gut reaction. Lay it on me.”

“Happiness,” Clint said.

Emma all but rolled her eyes. From what she remembered, the guy was always happy. Again, it was a good trait—a great trait. But after a couple months with Clint, she’d begun to miss the nuances of, well, moods.

For Clint it had never been about the cup being half-full or half-empty. In his book, the cup was always overflowing, all the time.

“Surprise, of course,” Clint added to his initial statement. “It’s been what…four years? But I was happy to hear from you. I’m happy to hear from anyone who’s had a significant impact on my life.”

Emma wrote this down. His response was a little cheesy, but who knows? Maybe it would be a nice balm for her ego when she got to the guys who’d be a little less happy to hear from her.

“Okay, second question,” she said. “When you think of our time together, what do you most remember? It can either be a specific moment, or a general vibe, or just…whatever comes to mind.”

“I remember how much you made me smile,” Clint said.