Chapter Twenty-Seven Emily
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Emily
I watch Jack walk away, and in an alternate universe, I go after him. It feels wrong to see him leave.
Five minutes ago I just wanted him gone. I didn’t want to deal with this…this…heartbreak while he was looking on. I didn’t want to have to process the fact that I poured my heart into something, and Colette stomped all over it while a wildly successful author was looking on. I wanted to wallow in my anger and use it to build myself back up, brick by furious brick.
But if Jack stayed…I would have broken into a million little pieces, and what if what he saw was too much for him? Likely, he thought the last time I broke down in front of him was because of alcohol. I don’t know how to tell him that this pain is always hovering just below the surface these days. It’s not alcohol induced. It’s raw and it’s lurking and I’m not nearly as capable of handling my shit as I seem.
I love Jack. I realized it back at the bar. I love him, and I think I have been in love with him for a while. But the last person I let myself love like this was Liam. I swore I’d never put myself in the situation to be left open to so much hurt again.
So maybe Jack was right. Maybe all I want is friends with benefits. Someone I can have without him having me. If he’s not okay with that…I don’t know that I can move forward with him.
I can’t consider any of this now, though, because Madison is here, sobbing in my arms on the front porch as I watch Jack disappear into his house without looking back.
“I hate it there,” says Maddie, head buried in my shoulder. “I hate New York.”
—
After getting Madison inside, I told her I’d put on some hot chocolate. It’s a habit left over from my grandma. When we were upset, she’d sit us down with a cup of hot chocolate, even in the summer, and by the time we were at the bottom of the mug, we’d have completely poured our hearts out to her. Even me. Mentally, she’s been gone from us for a long time, but physically, she’s really and truly gone now. It’s my job to uphold the hot chocolate ritual.
Pretty much as soon as she walked through the door, Maddie dumped her bags and made a tearful beeline for the bathroom. She said she wanted to take a shower and then we’d talk. I put some water in the kettle on the stove and took her bags back to her room and unpacked them into her drawers.
I think she knew I’d do this, because she doesn’t even come back out for her bags once she’s out of the shower; she goes to her room and then comes out in baggy cotton sweatpants and a bright pink T-shirt. She took out her contacts and is wearing her turquoise-frame glasses. Seeing her here like this is a sight for sore eyes.
Maybe she’ll decide to stay and not go back.
There’s a steaming mug of hot chocolate with marshmallows waiting for her at the table, but before she sits down, she wraps me up in one more big hug. “Thank you, Em.”
“You don’t have to thank me. I’m always happy to make you hot chocolate.” I offer her a smile, but I realize as I do that it’s an effort to form it. Normally, when I’m sad and Maddie or Annie or Noah comes home needing me, it heals me in a strange way. But tonight, the ache left from a rejected dream and watching Jack walk out the door is pulsing with pain.
She smiles as she sits, drawing her feet up in the chair, wearing the look of a woman at peace for the first time in a long time. “It’s so good to be home. You have no idea.”
“Maddie…what’s going on? I thought you were happy in New York.”
She looks down at her hot chocolate, tapping the outside of the mug with her thumb. “I wanted you to think that, because I wanted it to be true.”
“But why?”
“Because I…” Her voice cracks and she rolls her eyes away to stave off tears. “I feel like such an idiot, Emily. Like such a little baby that misses home. I thought I was going to go to the big city and achieve my dreams and be that woman who thrives in a good trouser-and-sneakers combo. I convinced everyone here that I wasn’t made for the small-town life and I needed to go to the city where I belonged.”
“And that didn’t happen?” I ask, trying not to sound too hopeful.
“No. Not at all. You know who I am in New York? I’m the woman who cries on the subway because I miss my truck. I cry on the sidewalk because I’m so tired of hustling everywhere I walk or else I’ll get run over. I cry alone in my bed at night because I miss my family so damn much. Everyone in New York seems so sure and full of purpose and confidence and I just feel like an impostor. A country bumpkin who will never belong.”
The image she’s painted wrenches my heart. “What about classes at least? How are those going?”
She shrugs a shoulder. “I do like the classes—I’m…I’m learning a lot and my instructors are all incredible. I still love cooking, and trying out new recipes in my apartment over the weekends has been the only thing keeping me going.”
“That’s good. And what about all the guys?”
She wrinkles her nose. “They’ve been a needed distraction from my loneliness, but that’s it. I haven’t found a single guy out there that I’ve wanted to see twice. I’ve wanted to tell you so badly, but I didn’t want you to worry.”
“Madison!” I lean forward onto the table. “Why wouldn’t you let me worry? It’s what I do best!”
She huffs a sad laugh. “Because then you’d tell me to come home for a visit, and I would, and it would hurt so bad to leave again. It’s why I never come home to visit. It’s too hard to go back to New York and get into a routine.” She pauses. “But now…”
I try not to look too hopeful. “Now?”
“I’m ready to face the truth—I’m not cut out for New York. And I want to come home. Even if everyone here thinks I’m a failure or a pathetic little baby.”
I nudge her knee under the table with my foot. “We would never think that. And you didn’t fail. You just realized it wasn’t what you thought it would be—and that’s okay. You can always come home, Maddie. New York doesn’t have to be for you. But hey, at least you tried it, you know?”
“Really?” There’s hesitation in her face. Like she’s scared to let herself feel joy over this.
“Yes. Come home, Madison.”
She smiles fully, sighing a year’s worth of sighs. “Okay. I will then. I’m coming home.”
God, it feels so great to be the pieces-picker-upper again. I needed this. And besides that, my heart is glowing thinking of having my sister back home once again. We’ll have our regular Hearts tournaments again before Noah and Amelia leave, and even when they’re gone, we’ll still get to have sister nights with Annie. Maybe she’ll even want to come back to work at the school.
But then there’s a flicker of something inside me that suddenly doesn’t quite feel right. Even as Madison is looking relieved and finishing her hot chocolate while talking about how she’s going to have to email her instructors and that she’ll have to arrange a good time to go out to New York and get her stuff, I’m only half listening. The other part of my brain is holding a flashlight and trying to chase down the sensation of discomfort.
Madison is still talking a mile a minute as I pick up her mug and carry it to the sink and rinse it out. But then, all of a sudden, her voice goes silent. After I load our mugs in the dishwasher, Maddie’s voice carries again. “Emily…I was going to search for a new movie we could rent, but…what is this?”
“What is wha—” I freeze once I turn the corner and see what Madison is looking at. She has my laptop open on the other end of the table, and thanks to her knowing my password, I’m willing to bet she’s looking at the email I never closed.
“Did you…did you write and submit a romance book to an agent?”
I blank, trying to think of a good lie. Something that will cover my tracks and throw Madison off my scent. But when her dark brown eyes lift to mine, an unexpected dam of emotions breaks. Everything I’ve kept bottled up since first finding that email from Colette rushes to the surface, and before I know it, I’m sinking to the floor—sobbing.
Maddie drops to her knees and grabs me around the shoulders in the fiercest, most protective hug in the world. She pulls me into her arms, and I let her even when my pride is demanding that I get up.
Instead, I sit here for a while, crying and crying and crying while Maddie rocks me in her arms. She pushes my hair from my temples while I continue on as a disgusting conveyor belt of snot and tears. I’m going to be so embarrassed about this tomorrow but for tonight, I cry.
“Emily, tell me what happened.”
So I do. It’s a muffled mess but I somehow get it out even between the hiccups. I tell her absolutely everything except for the part where I love Jack and that he’s AJ Ranger. And all while I’m talking and relaying the story of writing and editing and how much hope I felt for the whole process until Colette dumped it into a trash compactor, I realize that every damn thing Jack said was right. I love it. I love writing more than I’ve loved doing anything in a long time. And to give that up would hurt more than I care to think about. Possibly more than hearing Colette tell me my characters were as bland as burned toast.
It was just so unexpected. Maybe I was na?ve, but…I thought it was good. I thought the book was good and I loved my story.
Madison’s face is livid. “I am going to fly back to New York, because I assume that’s where Miss Colette lives, and I’m going to chew fifteen pieces of Dubble Bubble and then I’m going to stick them all in her hair while she’s sleeping. And then after she wakes up and sees the horror show in her hair, I’m going to pop out of the closet and cut it all off in the most jagged terrible cut she’s ever had!”
I laugh and wipe my nose. “Stop it.”
“No.” She squeezes me like I’m a giant lemon. “No one is mean to my big sister and gets away with it.”
This of course brings fresh tears to my eyes. My heart whispers to me how deeply it needed this.
“I’m sorry for crying so much,” I say, pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes. “I seem to be doing this a lot lately.”
“That’s okay. I always cry a lot. It feels good.”
I know this about her. I’ve witnessed it. I’ve held her through it. And I’ve always been jealous of the way Maddie is reckless with her emotions. She throws her arms out wide and sends tears from her eyes that could rival Niagara Falls. And then ten minutes later, she’s dancing and singing along to her favorite pop song while making brownies on a random Tuesday at three-thirty. Her capacity to feel everything all the time is astounding. And I’ve missed the wild energy she brings to every space she enters.
“I hate to cry.” Just saying the word seems to have the same effect as mentioning a yawn. I’m sobbing again. “I don’t know how to stop once I get going.”
Maddie laughs gently at me. “That’s probably because you’re always holding it in for too long. The trick is to have little breakdowns all along the way.”
I look up at her, trying to determine if that was a joke, but it wasn’t. She’s serious as she pets my hair out of my face. “I’m no therapist by any stretch of the imagination, but I do have quite a bit of experience with tears—and in my thirty years on this earth, I’ve found that crying starts to feel like exercise. The more you do it, the more comfortable you become with it. And then it isn’t so overwhelming anymore.” She shakes me gently on my shoulder. “Cry more, Emily!”
“But that sounds atrocious.”
She lets go now and crosses her legs. “You would think that.”
I use the back of my hand to absorb the wetness from my face. “I’m sorry I’m dumping all of my problems on you, though. I feel terrible about it since you were having such a bad night too.”
“I’m not sorry at all. I’m thankful for it, in fact. It was nice to know for once when you need some emotional support.”
“That’s not your job, though.”
“And it’s never been your job either,” says Maddie, her voice shockingly firm. In fact, it’s a tone I didn’t even know she was capable of using. I watch silently as she tips forward and sandwiches my hands in hers. “Emily…you take on too much—and you hold yourself to this impossible standard of living that no one can survive on. And to be quite honest, it’s nice to see that you struggle just like the rest of us. That you need me occasionally just like I need you. So stop letting your pride and your perfectionism get in the way, and let me make you brownies, and tuck you into your favorite blanket, and coddle you while you feel like shit…okay?”
I nod, knowing she’s right. “Okay.”
“Good. And then…tomorrow, you’re going to let me read your book so that I can lavish you with compliments and tell you what an incredible writer you are so that you’ll send the damn thing out to more agents.”
“Maddie…I don’t know if…”
She puts her finger to my lips to silence me. “No excuses, Emily. You’re the toughest woman I know—and you deserve everything your heart desires. Not only that, but if Jackson Bennett thought your book was good, I know it is because that man has the best taste in the world.” She says this not even knowing that he is a world-famous author. “You can do hard things, Emily. I’ve seen it. This is just a new kind of scary for you. It’s something you’re doing on your own, not for anyone else, but for you. And that can make a person feel extra exposed sometimes. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t worth it to push through—because the reward in the end will be that much sweeter.”
And there it is. That flicker I couldn’t pinpoint earlier grows to life, bold and bright.
I stare at her, my heart sinking from what I need to do. “Dammit, Madison.”
“What?”
I shut my eyes. “I wish you hadn’t said all of that.”
“Why?” She chuckles. “Because it was so inspirational it hurt a little?”
“Yes. And because now I have to tell you that you can’t come home.”
Her smile falls. “ What? ”
I lean forward and cup her face. “I love you. More than anything. And I love having you here, but New York is your hard, scary thing. And if you quit now just to come back home where you’re comfortable and safe, you’re going to regret it. I can’t let you do that. Go back. Get your culinary degree and then come home. Or…” I can’t believe I’m going to say this. “Or maybe try out another state. One that fits your vibes more. See where your career can take you. Maybe it’ll end up being the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”
I kiss her forehead and drop my hands.
Her chin wobbles. “Thank you, Em.”
“And thank you. I…I really needed this tonight.” I’ve needed it for a long time, and it feels good to stop fighting it.
“Call me more often when you’re struggling, okay? Don’t keep it all to yourself anymore. We need each other and that’s good.”
“And tell me when you’re missing home. If it’s during the summer, I’ll come ride the subway with you until you feel better. And if it’s during the school year, I’ll send you a big care package.”
“Deal. But for now, how about I make us some brownies from scratch while you tell me everything about Jack that you left out the first time.” Her eyes twinkle. “Like why his shirt was wide open when he left.”
“Ugh. I need a break from thinking about Jack tonight. Tomorrow?”
“Fine.” She pouts.
Except we don’t get up immediately because Ducky wanders over and distracts Maddie with her supreme cuteness. My sister smooshes her face violently into the side of Ducky’s stomach and promises to buy her an entire cat kingdom if she will love her more than the rest of us Walker sisters. And knowing I don’t have to be alone tonight with my sadness, but I have my sister to help me shoulder some of it—it has me feeling like a Bob Ross painting when he adds some happy little clouds to the sky.
Would it feel this way with Jack too?
My gut says yes.
My fear, however, isn’t ready to let go quite yet where he’s concerned.