Every Little Kiss Read Online Free PDF Page B

the ending, a brief clip of herself singing Katy Perry’s “Firework” into a microphone that had been cut short because the cameraperson hadn’t seemed too steady on his feet at that point, either, and then started to read the YouTube comments before remembering that one should never, ever read the comments. Especially when they were about oneself. A glance at the time stamp told her that the video had been up since early yesterday, probably before whoever took it had fallen into bed. She carefully set her phone down on the desk.
    “I have a nice singing voice,” she informed the empty shop. “So there’s that.”
    After a few long minutes spent staring at the phone as though she could will it and its contents out of existence, Emma blinked rapidly and straightened. It was time to get back on track. She pulled up the proposal she’d been working on and typed a few words. When she realized they didn’t make much sense, she erased them, thenpropped her chin on her hand to study the work she’d done so far. The words kept jumbling together, though, and there was a tightness in her chest she couldn’t seem to get rid of.
    It had been a long time since she’d had this feeling, but it was one she never really forgot. If she wasn’t very careful, she was going to wind up with a full-blown panic attack.
    Minutes went by, slipping into half an hour, then forty-five minutes. Emma tried to remember the techniques she’d once used to calm herself down, focusing on her breathing, the steady inhaling and exhaling. She found she could at least be grateful that it was a slow Monday, and that she had no appointments until early afternoon. Emma closed her eyes, visualizing a quiet meadow, a gentle breeze, solitude.
    Breathe in. Breathe out. It’s okay.
    The bell above the door tinkled, but the fact that she was no longer alone didn’t really register until her sister’s voice filled the quiet of the shop.
    “Hey, it’s alive!”
    Emma’s eyes flew open, startled, and the look on her face must have revealed everything. Sam hurried forward, bootheels clicking on the wood floor, concern etched across her lovely face.
    “Jesus, Em, are you okay? You’re as white as a ghost! Did you eat today? Are you sick?”
    “No, I’m fine! I was just—just resting!” Her hands flew up defensively, and Sam stopped just short of her, looking uncertain. Things were better between them, but there were still boundaries, old ones, that had yet to be crossed.
    “Are you sure?”
    Not really.
Part of her wanted to grab her sister and cryon her shoulder until Sam’s pretty blue tunic was soggy with tears. The rest of her, however, the bigger part, would never allow that. Comforting her shouldn’t be Sam’s job. She could handle it herself. That was what she did, after all. Emma Henry, Woman of Steel. It wasn’t exactly a superpower, but it would do.
    Emma collected herself as best she could, despite the uncomfortable squeeze of her rib cage around her lungs, and pretended everything was fine.
    “I’m not dead yet, anyway,” Emma said, keeping her voice neutral and managing a thin smile. Not great, but better than looking terrified. “I’m just putting together a package with some options for the McKendricks.” She gestured at her computer screen. “This seems more like a sweet sixteen party than a baptism, but if they want to go big, who am I to judge?”
    Sam hesitated, and Emma could see her debating whether to continue to press. Finally, though, Sam offered up a small mischievous smile. “There aren’t, like, ice sculptures involved, are there?”
    Emma let out a breath she hadn’t even known she was holding, and when she smiled again, it was warmer. “Not this time, no. But you’d be amazed at some of the things I’ve had to set up.”
    “This is why I couldn’t do what you do. You have to keep a straight face,” Sam said, moving to perch on the edge of the desk. It was a not so subtle way to make sure her sister