CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE Joshua
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Joshua
A s Bon and Ryan kiss and seal their marriage, I look over to Emily. She’s subtly wiping her eyes, not wanting anyone to see. But I do. I see it all. The way she tries to hide her emotions behind her mask of indifference. The way she tries to put up invisible shields so she can protect (and hide from) those around her.
The wedding is beautiful. It’s intimate, passionate, and emotional. If I’m being honest, it stirs something deep within me, a longing I didn’t know I had.
When the ceremony is over, we all gather at the garden for the reception. There are string lights overhead, a makeshift stage, and rustic wooden tables and chairs for everyone. The entire space is decorated with flowers and garlands. On one side, there’s a long buffet table filled with all kinds of food. At the far end, between the buffet table and the stage, is the cake. I can see Kate making final adjustments to the cake, making sure it’s perfect. She baked the cake and the pastries that were served earlier.
I’m scanning the area for Emily so we can eat together, but I can’t seem to find her. Just as I’m about to walk further, my mother stops me.
“Joshua,” she says. “I’m so glad you could come home for your sister’s wedding. And with Emily too.”
“Yeah, me too,” I say. My mom and I don’t exactly have a close, casual-talking relationship, so I don’t really know what to say next or how to react when she loops her arm around mine and walks with me.
“Look, honey,” she says. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you, we might never have the chance. I know we—”
“Ma, this isn’t the venue for that,” I cut her off, once again deflecting. I’m not ready to talk about these things—the things I’ve tried to avoid for years.
My mom looks flustered, but she quickly masks it with a sympathetic smile. “Okay, I just want to tell you how sorry we are and that we’re here anytime you want to talk. Anytime.” Her voice wavers slightly, and I can see the sincerity in her eyes, but I can’t bring myself to respond the way I should, so I just nod.
She walks away, but she’s still looking at me from a distance. She takes a seat beside my dad, and she talks to him. He pats her shoulders, as if to comfort her, and I feel strange. I feel bad about being too distant. It’s been a decade since I’ve lived here. Sure, I sometimes visit, but I never stay for long. And being in New York for years made me forget this feeling of warmth. My mother’s words aren’t much, but it’s a start. And I can’t help but notice how the walls I built for myself, to protect me, are starting to crack. And it’s not just because of this opportunity to smooth things out with my parents; it’s about something else. Someone else.
It’s funny, really, how Emily has been slowly breaking down those walls, without even trying. I can feel it. I’ve started to feel things again. Little moments, like the way she looks at me when she’s trying to flirt back, the way she looks when she talks about something she’s passionate about, or the way her laugh pulls me in.
I shake my head and grab a drink from the waiter roaming around with a tray. I take a gulp of champagne and shake my head, convincing myself that this is just a fleeting feeling. It doesn’t mean anything. It can’t mean anything. Because if I let it be something, I’m gonna have to give my heart away. And when people do that, I know what happens next. You lose pieces of yourself, and I’m not sure I have pieces left to lose.
I spot Emily at one of the distant tables, with a laptop in front of her. She has a phone between her ear and her shoulders as she works on her computer. I walk over to her as slowly as I can manage so I don’t distract her. Once she drops the call and sets her phone down, I sit beside her.
“Third job?” I ask casually.
She looks up at me, her hair—now free from the elegant bun she wore to the ceremony—is blowing away with the wind. “Yeah, one of my clients is going on holiday tomorrow and she wants her taxes sorted out immediately,” she says.
She freelances her accounting services. Smart. Well, I never doubted her intelligence, but her methods of maintaining her New York lifestyle and her family’s needs are something to be applauded. “Do you need help? Just so you know, I suck at accounting,” I say.
She rolls her eyes. “Honestly, it would be faster if I do it alone,” she says. I stay beside her and watch in awe.
“You really make this look easy,” I say quietly, half in awe.
She gives a small smile, not looking up from her screen. “It’s just a lot of practice,” she says.
As I sit there, watching Emily’s fingers fly across the keyboard, I can’t help but think about how invaluable she is. And then, I feel the gears turn in my head. After brief consideration, I ask, “Do you want a full-time accounting job?”
“What?” Emily asks. “Of course I do, are you giving them away?” She chuckles.
“As a matter of fact,” I say. “I’m offering it to you.”
I know it’s out of the blue, but I really have been thinking about getting a different accountant. I’m planning to make new programs, new service offerings, and overall expand the company. I need someone who can focus on us. And Emily is obviously the kind of person who’s good at what she does.
Emily’s eyebrows furrow, and she stops typing for a while and just looks at me. “What do you mean?”
“So… I’m about to take over a construction firm. And we’re in the process of transitioning everything over to me,” I say, and Emily’s eyes widen at the revelation.
“I knew you were a big shot engineer,” she says, chuckling.
“Thanks.” I wink. “The thing is, we’ve been outsourcing our accounting needs for years. It’s been... fine, but I want to take it in-house. I want to start fresh, build something solid and reliable. Besides, the company is growing. So I was thinking about hiring someone to handle the company’s accounting full-time. Or at least switch accountants, since the one we have is currently too busy with other bigger clients.”
I wait for her to say something, my chest tightening slightly, unsure if this is a step too far. Again, this is a decision I didn’t think through. Ever since Emily’s tantrum day, every decision I made that concerns her is something done in a rush. Anything to keep her around.
Her eyes stay locked on mine for a moment, considering. “That’s... a big offer, Joshua,” she finally says. “Are you sure? Isn’t it gonna be complicated?”
“I get what you’re saying. We swore to be strangers in New York.” I feel a twist in my stomach. “But, just, think about it.”
She looks back at me, her expression unreadable. I’m not sure if she’s still processing the idea or if she’s trying to figure out if I’m serious. But I hold her gaze, waiting. I know this isn’t a simple decision, but I also know that, deep down, this could be exactly what she needs to take the next step in her career—and what I need to get the firm on the right track. And how I can keep hanging out with her.
After what feels like an eternity, she finally speaks, her voice soft but thoughtful. “I’ll think about it. Let me know the details, and let’s talk in New York.” She smiles.
“Agreed.” I nod. “We’re still on vacation, after all. So if you’re done,” I say, putting my glass of champagne on the table, “Are you ready to sit with me at our table?”
She grins and says, “Of course.”
We stand up, and we make our way to the table we share with Kate, Haley, and Richard.
“Were you working ?” Kate asks Emily as we take our seats. “Wall Street really is so busy!”
Emily just chuckles, gives me a look, then says, “It so is.” I give her a small smile, which she returns. It’s nice to know that I’m the only person who knows the truth. It’s like our little secret. Much like this act we have going on.
Once Bon and Ryan arrive and the host announces their first dance, the music begins and they start to move together, laughing when Ryan stumbles slightly before finding his rhythm.
At our table, Emily is quiet. Too quiet. I glance her way and catch her fidgeting with the table napkin beside her plate, folding and unfolding the edges with restless fingers. It’s subtle, but after spending so much time with her, I’ve come to recognize her tells. She fidgets when she’s anxious—on the plane, at Lily’s when she admitted to feeling the weight of being responsible, her drunk confessions, and the time we kissed in front of Rob.
She doesn’t say anything, but I can feel the tension radiating off her. It’s like she’s trying to keep it together while something beneath the surface threatens to break free. I know she just needs a small anchor, something to hold onto. And I’ve decided that, whenever I can, I’ll be that.
Slowly, I snake my hand under hers, brushing my fingers against hers before lacing them together. The moment our hands connect, the fidgeting stops. Her grip tightens around mine, just slightly, and when she looks at me, there’s a flash of relief in her eyes.
Her lips curve into a small, grateful smile. I don’t know what’s making her anxious about tonight, but I don’t ask. She’ll tell me when she’s ready.