31. Emma
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
EMMA
I lean my head against the cool windowpane in Grams’s sunroom, the faint chirps of crickets serenading the warm South Carolina evening. The sun has already dipped below the horizon, leaving streaks of pink and orange to fade into the deep indigo of night. I’ve always loved this view, the way Grams’s backyard stretches out with wildflowers and billowy willow trees, like a secret garden that refuses to be tamed. It’s comforting, in a way, like her—a little chaotic, a little messy, but full of life.
I don’t feel full of life right now. Hollowness stretches through me, like someone reached inside me and scooped out all the petals and greenery, leaving behind nothing but brittle stems and barren earth. I thought coming here to Grams’s house would help me clear my head before the park project announcement, but all it’s done is give me more time to think about Aaron.
About the way he said, “I can’t fix us, Emma,” and then walked away like I wasn’t worth fighting for.
I still haven’t texted him. He hasn’t reached out to me either. We made it down the aisle at Claudia’s wedding, and I’ve never held my head so high. Then he left in the middle of dinner, and I haven’t seen or heard from him since.
I close my eyes and wish I could turn off my thoughts too. It’s not fair to put all the blame on him. I know that. I’m the one who let my fears get in the way, who doubted him and pushed him away without even realizing it. But knowing that doesn’t make it hurt any less.
“Emma, sweetheart, you’re going to smudge the window with all that brooding.”
Grams’s voice cuts through the quiet, soft but firm, the way she’s always been. I turn to find her standing in the doorway, her gray hair pulled back loosely, her floral apron dusted with flour. She’s holding a plate of jammed toast, my absolute favorite thing in the world.
“I’m not brooding,” I mumble, even though we both know I am. I move toward her and sink into the wicker chair beside the door as she sets the plate on the small table beside me.
“Mm-hmm,” she says, settling into the chair beside me. Her sharp blue eyes—so much like mine—study me, and I know there’s no escaping her interrogation. Grams has a way of seeing right through me, peeling back the layers I don’t even want to admit are there.
And she brought me strawberry-jammy toast the day my mother moved to Michigan. So this is so not going to be a good conversation.
“You’ve been moping around this house for weeks now,” she says, folding her hands in her lap. “And I know it’s not just because you’re worried about the park competition.”
I pick up a slice of toast and take a big bite, avoiding her gaze. I have no excuses or explanations, and I can’t even deny it.
“You haven’t named a single flower arrangement since you got here,” she says pointedly. “If that’s not moping, I don’t know what is.”
I can’t help the small smile that tugs at my lips. “I don’t know if I can go to the announcement ceremony.”
“Of course you can.” She makes this tsk -ing sound that grates against my nerves. “And you’ll talk to Aaron this time, and you’ll see that it’s always better to get things out into the open.”
My stomach twists at the mention of Aaron. He’s everywhere—in the way the sunlight dances just beyond the windows the way it did in his kitchen, in the way the wind rustles the trees like it did that day at the park when he went around and watered my flowers for me. He’s in the scent of sawdust and the sound of off-key humming that still echoes in my mind.
Grams doesn’t say anything for a moment, letting the silence stretch between us. Then she reaches over and takes my hand, her grip warm and steady. “Your parents broke, because they wouldn’t talk to each other.”
I pull in a breath, because we each have a different version of my parents in our heads, and Grams sees things so differently than I do. I was only fifteen when my mother moved, and my daddy had been gone for a few months before that.
“And they broke so much for you too,” Grams continues. “I know that sometimes still haunts you, but baby, you can be better than them.”
Her words knock the air out of me. I stare at her, my heart pounding in my chest. I can—and should—be better than my parents. I never, ever want to do to another human being what they did to me.
“I know you’re in love with him,” Grams says next.
“I think I am,” I whisper, following her gaze. “But what if love is not enough? What if he leaves me, just like everyone else?”
After all, love didn’t hold my parents here.
Grams squeezes my hand. “Oh, Emma. Love isn’t about guarantees. It’s about taking a chance, even when you’re scared. Especially when you’re scared.”
Her words settle over me like a warm blanket, wrapping around the cold, empty parts of me. I’ve spent so much time trying to protect myself, to avoid getting hurt, that I never stopped to think about what I might be missing.
“I don’t even know if he’ll take me back.” I hate that my voice trembles, but my whole life has been on shaky ground for the past month.
“There’s only one way to find out,” Grams says with a small smile. “But you can’t let fear hold you back, sweetheart. You’re stronger than that.”
I nod, the weight in my chest loosening just a little. Maybe she’s right. Maybe it’s time to stop running from my feelings and face them head-on.
The morning of the park competition announcement dawns bright and warm, the kind of day that feels like it was made for fresh starts. I dress in a simple sundress—soft blue with tiny white flowers—and pull my hair back into a loose braid. It’s not fancy, but it feels like me, and that’s enough.
“I have to be enough,” I whisper to my reflection.
I meet Grams in the kitchen, and she is dressed in her Southern best—a cotton dress in red, orange, and yellow plaid. She loves autumn with her whole heart, and she’s obviously broken out her fall collection early. She’s perched a hat with a bright orange flower along the brim on her head, and she’s already got her purse looped over her forearm.
“Wow,” I say, grinning from ear-to-ear. “Look at you.”
“I might have my picture in the paper,” she says, patting the back of her perfectly set hair.
I tip my head back and laugh. “Grams,” I say between giggles. “People don’t read the paper anymore.”
“Oh, they do too.” She frowns at me, but her eyes sparkle with energy. “I read the paper every morning.”
“On your giant tablet.” I pour coffee into my thermos, though it’s a million degrees outside. I’ll need some form of caffeine, and I leave a third for ice. With my iced coffee ready, I turn back to Grams. “So we have to go, don’t we?”
“Yes, we do,” she says matter-of-factly. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
I help her down the stairs and into my car, and then the drive to Sweetbriar and Salty Dog only takes a few minutes. Grams’s house is only a few minutes from literally everywhere in Cider Cove. My heartbeat hammers out of control, and a sip of iced coffee doesn’t help much.
A crowd has already arrived, and I get out and look at them. The air buzzes with anticipation, and mine gets added to it as I see my fellow small business owners among all the people. We’ve all worked so hard for this, and even if I don’t win, I still might be asked to help with the park.
The City Council has set up a stage right in the middle of the two rows of plots, decorated with balloons and banners that read “We love our small businesses in Cider Cove!”
All of the park renditions are displayed along the back of the chairs, and I reach for Grams as she comes to my side. “Even if I don’t win,” I say. “I’ll be okay.”
“Yes, you will,” Grams says.
I like the sense of peace and contentment running through me as we slowly make our way up the slope to the flatter ground where the plots and stage are.
I scan the crowd, my heart skipping a beat and then two and then ten when I spot Aaron near the back. Holy hydrangeas, he’s so good-looking. And he’s more than a pretty man in a pretty picture. He’s kind and funny and hard-working, and I am so in love with him.
He’s wearing one of his tool-themed T-shirts, this one with a hammer and the words “Nailed It” across the chest. His dark hair is slightly messy, and his beard is neatly trimmed, but it’s the look in his eyes that catches me off guard.
He looks tired. Sad. Like he’s been carrying the same weight I have.
I turn away quickly, my pulse racing. I want to run to him, but my feet seem to have grown roots. Jean Hygrove steps up to the microphone and taps it a few times, calling the crowd to attention.
I look around for Claudia and Tahlia and Hillary, all of whom should be here. Lizzie said she might be able to make it, and I didn’t check my phone this morning to find out.
“Thank you all for coming today,” Jean says, her voice clear and authoritative, just as Grams and I arrive at the chairs. “Can everyone find a seat? Do we need more chairs?” She shields her eyes and peers out into the crowd.
I make sure Grams is settled next to Tahlia, and she squeezes my hand. “Go stand by Aaron,” she whispers.
I nod, and I take a moment to hug Claudia. “You don’t know who won, do you?” I ask.
She shakes her head, her dark eyes glittering like dark diamonds. “But it has to be you and Aaron,” she says. “Your plot is spectacular.”
I’ve spent the month watering the flowers and bushes by hand so the plot would stay as beautiful as possible throughout the showing. I move to the end of the aisle and start toward the back, where the other small business owners are standing. I don’t see Aaron among them, and my chest feels like a giant rubber band is getting tightened around my ribs.
“Before we begin, I’m going to turn the time over to Aaron Stansfield,” Jean says.
I gasp as I spin around, and I haven’ t quite reached the back of the rows of chairs yet. But I can’t move as I watch Aaron trot up the steps, all smiles and Cheerios now. He takes the mic from Jean, and all I can think is Why? Why is he up on the stage?
“He’s going to be our Small Business President this next year,” Jean says with a flirty, fond smile on her face, though she’s at least twenty years older than Aaron. “And he requested a few minutes today.”
“Thank you, Jean,” he says, his gaze locked on hers. She takes a step back, and Aaron turns his attention out to the crowd.
He’s the Small Business Association president?
A pinch like I’ve never known fills my throat, because I should’ve known that. I would’ve thrown him a party and a big chocolate cake and been at his side.
I can’t swallow, and when Aaron’s eyes land on mine, I swear the sky starts to fall. He blurs behind my tears, and I become very aware that I’m standing in the middle aisle all alone.
His dark eyes search mine, and they refuse to let go. “I love you,” he says into the mic, and my eyes widen. I have no idea what’s going on inside his head, but I can guarantee that he didn’t mean to lead with that .
“I miss you,” he says next. “And I conned Jean into letting me have the mic, so I could tell you how sorry I am that I’ve been such a fool.”
By the time he finishes that sentence, everyone has turned to stare at me. I want to move. Duck and hide. Something. But my hands hang like lumps of clay at the ends of my arms, and I can barely breathe.
He clears his throat, and I blink back my tears. I want to see him right now, not a blurred version of him. “You told me once that love isn’t about the big things, but the little things we do everyday. And you were right. My little moments all day long are bleak and black without you.”
Aaron steps closer to the edge of the stage, never breaking eye contact. “But I have to do something big to get you back, so here I am. Because sometimes, love deserves to be shouted from the rooftops—or in this case, from a stage in front of our entire town.”
As tears flood my eyes again, I blink them back rapidly, not wanting to miss a single expression on his face. His eyes shine with an intensity I’ve never seen before.
“You’re the first person I want to share my victories with,” Aaron continues. “And the only one I want around when life knocks me down. You’re the only person I’d drop everything for, and you’re my home, honeybee. My heart. My everything.”
My breath catches in my throat. I want to run to him, but I’m stuck hanging on his every word.
He takes a deep breath, and I find myself holding mine. “I promise to love you in the big moments and the small ones. To cherish every second we have together. Because a lifetime with you still wouldn’t be enough. ”
The world around us rushes back in, and I become acutely aware of every eye on me. But all I can see is Aaron, his heart laid bare before me and the entire town.
Someone comes to my side, and Lizzie links her arm through mine. “Well, that was pretty dang perfect, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” I murmur without moving my mouth.
“Maybe you should get up there and put that man out of his misery.”
I sob as I take off toward the stage. The crowd starts to whoop and clap, the loudest voice among them Hillary’s. She probably got everyone going, but it all blurs as Aaron hands the mic back to Jean, jumps down from the stage, and catches me as I throw myself into his arms.
“I’m sorry,” I say agains this chest. “I’m so sorry. I was just mad for like, two minutes.”
He smoothes his hands over my hair and says, “I know. It’s okay. We’re okay.”
We’re not, but I know we can be.
“Okay,” Jean says in a crisp voice, nowhere near the flirt-fest she’d used before. “We’re all gathered here for something specific. The park renovation competition has been a wonderful opportunity to showcase the creativity and dedication of our community, from our local talent inside our Cider Cove small businesses. Every team has put in so much hard work, and we’re thrilled to announce the winner today. ”
Aaron moves us to the side, and starts to lead me toward the back, where the other contestants wait. Tahlia’s wiping her eyes as I go by, and Claudia lifts both fists into the air in a victory move.
Meanwhile, the crowd claps politely for Jean, the tension thick in the air. I glance at Grams, who gives me an encouraging nod, and then back at Aaron. He leads me to the back, where we stop and face the stage. Then he watches Jean, his jaw tight, his hands shoved into his pockets.
My heart goes back to being shoved into a tight box, where it struggles to beat properly.
“And the winner of the Cider Cove Park Competition is…” Jean pauses for dramatic effect, her smile widening. “Team EmRon!”
The crowd erupts into applause, and I freeze, the words barely registering. We won. We actually won. Beside me, Aaron yells like he’s just won the Superbowl, and he turns into me, pure joy on his face. He lifts me right up off my feet while those around us laugh.
“We’d like to invite Emma Newberry, who owns Pretty in Petals, and Aaron Stansfield, who owns Stansfield Hardware, up to the stage.” Jean claps politely, her eagle-eyes locked onto us.
The moment Aaron sets me on my feet, I take a big breath and start the journey back to the stage, my heart pounding.
We have to go in front of the crowd along the length of the stage to get to the steps, and I go first, trying to ignore all the eyes on me. Behind me, Aaron gallops along, raising the roof. The small-town crowd responds too, their roar of congratulations filling the sky.
Which totally hasn’t fallen.