Chapter Eighteen
The Crossroads
Emma
T he morning sun filters through the thin curtains of my hotel room, painting streaks of gold across the beige walls. I sit cross-legged on the bed, my laptop perched precariously on a pillow as I attempt to finalize some notes for work. It’s a futile effort. The words blur together on the screen, and my thoughts keep circling back to last night.
Ethan.
His voice, his presence, the way his eyes searched mine like he was trying to find something he’d lost—it’s all I can think about. The laptop in front of me is pointless; I can’t focus. Not on work, not on anything.
Get it together, Emma.
A knock at the door pulls me out of my spiraling thoughts. I glance at the clock—barely 8 a.m. Who could that be? I shuffle to the door, peeking through the peephole. Sarah.
Her blonde hair is pulled back into a messy ponytail, and she’s holding two steaming cups of coffee. I crack open the door.
“Morning,” she chirps, handing me a cup as she steps inside. “Thought you might need a caffeine boost.”
“You’re a saint,” I mumble, taking a sip. The coffee is hot and strong, exactly what I need.
Sarah flops onto the armchair near the window, crossing her legs as she studies me. “You look like you barely slept,” Sarah says, dropping into the armchair near the window.
“Always a charmer,” I mumble, taking a sip of coffee.
“Did you see him?” she presses, a grin tugging at her lips.
The heat rises to my cheeks, and Sarah’s smirk widens. She leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Oh my God, you did, didn’t you? Spill.”
I sink onto the edge of the bed, cradling my coffee like it’s a lifeline. “I ran into him in the lobby last night.”
“And?” Her voice is pitched with curiosity, but there’s a hint of something else—concern, maybe.
“And… it was awkward. Emotional. I don’t know, Sarah. He apologized, said he re gretted how things ended, but it’s been years. What am I supposed to do with that?”
Sarah’s expression softens. She sets her coffee on the side table and leans back in the chair. “What do you want to do with it?”
The question feels heavier than it should. I shrug, staring down at the rim of my cup. “I don’t know. Part of me wants to let it go, move on like I’ve been trying to for years. But the other part…” I trail off, biting my lip.
“The other part still loves him,” Sarah finishes for me, her voice gentle.
I don’t answer, but the silence says enough. Sarah sighs, running a hand through her ponytail. “Em, I get it. You’ve been holding onto this for so long, trying to figure out what went wrong. But maybe this is your chance to get some closure. Or… maybe it’s a chance to see if there’s something to fight for.”
Her words hit like a punch to the gut, and I set the coffee down, wrapping my arms around my knees. “What if I open that door, and it just leads to more heartbreak?”
“Then at least you’ll know,” Sarah says simply. “But if you don’t, you’ll wonder for the rest of your life. And I don’t think you want to live like that.”
I let her words settle, the truth in them impossible to ignore. I’ve spent years running from the what-ifs, and now, standing still feels even scarier.
……………………………………………………………
The rest of the morning drags by in a haze. Sarah heads out to grab coffee or wander the town, mumbling something about needing a break from all the “wedding chaos,” leaving me alone with my thoughts. I try to distract myself—shower, get dressed, scroll through my phone—but nothing works. My mind keeps drifting back to Ethan, to the way his voice trembled when he said he’d regretted letting me go.
By the time noon rolls around, I can’t take it anymore. I grab my bag and head downstairs, the elevator ride feeling like an eternity. The lobby is quieter than last night, the soft hum of conversation from the bar barely audible. I spot a group of groomsmen gathered near the entrance, laughing about something. My stomach twists.
I scan the room for Ethan, half-hoping he’s here, half-hoping he’s not. But he’s nowhere in sight. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding and head for the door.
The fresh air hits me as I step outside, the sunlight warm on my skin. I head to the park, the open air a stark contrast to the suffocating stillness of my room. But even as the leaves rustle and the birds sing, my chest feels tight.
I find an empty bench under a tree and sit down, pulling my phone from my bag. My thumb hovers over Ethan’s contact, the memory of his text from last night flashing in my mind.
Can we talk tomorrow?
I already replied, agreeing to meet, but now, staring at his name again, I wonder if I made the right choice. Before I can second-guess myself, I grab my phone, rereading his message like it holds the answers I’m looking for.
Me : When would you like to talk?
I hit send before I can second-guess myself, the whoosh of the message sending making my stomach flip.
Seconds later, my phone buzzes.
Ethan : I’m free whenever. Name the time and place.
My heart races as I type back.
Me : The park across from the hotel. Thirty minutes?
Ethan : I’ll be there.
I slip the phone back into my bag and let out a shaky breath. This is it. No turning back now.
As I sit there, waiting for the minutes to tick by, the familiar cocktail of nerves and anticipation bubbles up inside me. This isn’t just a conversation. It’s the moment I’ve been avoiding for years—the moment that could either set me free or pull me right back in.
And for better or worse, I’m ready to face it.
The minutes pass like hours as I sit on the bench, watching the world move around me. A couple jogs by, their laughter floating on the breeze. A woman pushes a stroller, humming softly to the baby inside. The normalcy of it all feels jarring, like the universe hasn’t gotten the memo about the storm brewing in my chest.
When I finally spot Ethan walking toward me, my breath catches. He’s dressed in jeans and a fitted gray t-shirt, his sunglasses pushed up onto his head. He’s scanning the park, and when his eyes land on me, his shoulders straighten.
I force myself to stand, my heart pounding in my chest. He crosses the distance between us in a few long strides, stopping just short of the bench.
“Hey,” he says, his voice low and tentative.
“Hi,” I reply, fidgeting with the strap of my bag.
For a moment, we just stand there, the silence stretching between us. Finally, he gestures toward the bench. “Mind if I sit?”
I shake my head, sinking back down as he lowers himself beside me. The bench is small, and the space between us feels impossibly close. I can smell the faint hint of his cologne—woodsy and clean, the same one he wore in college.
“I half expected you to bail,” he admits, his hands clasped tightly in his lap, thumb fidgeting against his knuckles. “I might’ve checked my phone every five seconds, convinced you’d realize this was a bad idea.”
I glance at him, his profile sharp against the sunlight. “I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t,” I say honestly.“But… I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said.”
He turns to face me, his eyes searching mine. “I meant every word, Em. I shouldn’t have let you go.”
The sincerity in his voice is almost too much, and I look down at my hands. “Why now, Ethan? Why say this now after all this time?”
He exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair. “Because I can’t keep pretending I was okay with how things ended. I thought… I thought walking away was the right thing to do, but it wasn’t. It was the biggest mistake of my life.” He pauses, his gaze locking with mine, raw and unguarded. “I want you back, Emma. I’ve wanted you back every day since the moment I let you go.”
My throat tightens, and I blink rapidly, willing the tears away. “My heart broke when you left.” I whisper, the words slipping out before I can stop them.
His head drops, and when he looks back up, his eyes are filled with a pain that mirrors my own. “I know,” he says softly. “And I’ve hated myself for it every damn day.”
The rawness in his voice cracks something inside me, and I bite my lip, trying to steady my breathing. “But in all honesty, I didn’t stop you, Ethan. I told myself it was what you needed—that I was doing the right thing by letting you go.” My voice wavers, the tears pressing hard behind my eyes. “I thought I was saving us both from more pain, but maybe I was just too scared to find out if I was wrong.”
His jaw tightens, his expression shifting from regret to something sharper. “You didn’t stop me,” Ethan says, his voice hard. “But damn it, Emma, you didn’t give me a reason to stay either. You decided what I deserved without even asking what I wanted.”
I flinch, his words hitting harder than I expected. “I thought I was doing what was best for you—for us,” I argue, my voice breaking under the weight of the admission. “I thought you deserved someone who fit into your world, someone who wouldn’t hold you back.”
“You didn’t get to make that call!” His voice rises, a raw edge of anger cutting through the tension. “That was supposed to be us—together, figuring it out. You think I didn’t know there’d be challenges? You think I didn’t know it wouldn’t be easy? I didn’t care, Em. All I wanted was you.”
A bitter laugh escapes me, unbidden. “You say that now, but back then? You walked away, Ethan. Like it was the easiest thing in the world.”
“It wasn’t easy!” His voice is a mix of anger and anguish, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and it broke me. Do you think I’ve spent the last however many years perfectly fine? I’ve regretted leaving every single damn day.”
The words tear through the air, and for a moment, all I can do is stare at him, my chest heaving with the weight of everything between us. “Do you even know what it felt like?” I ask, my voice trembling, barely above a whisper. “Watching you leave? Telling myself I was doing the right thing, only to feel like my heart was being ripped out?”
His voice drops, quiet but no less intense. “I know what it feels like,” he says. “Because I’ve been living with that same pain every day since.”
The honesty in his eyes cuts through my defenses, exposing every raw nerve I’ve tried to keep hidden. My heart is pounding so loudly I’m sure he can hear it, and I don’t know if I want to cry or scream.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” I admit finally, my voice breaking. “I don’t know if I can risk it all again and survive losing you a second time.”
“You won’t lose me,” he says, his voice steady and certain as he leans closer. “I swear, Emma. I’m here now. I’m not running, and I’m not going to let you run, either. I want you back, and I’ll do whatever it takes to prove I’m not the same guy who left.”
The conviction in his words leaves me breathless, and for a moment, I let myself believe him. But the fear, the doubt, is still there, clawing at the edges of my resolve.
“I can’t make that decision right now,” I say finally, my voice cracking under the strain. “I need time to figure out if this is something I want again.”
His hand covers mine, warm and grounding. “Take all the time you need,” he says softly. “But know this: I’m not going anywhere. I’ll wait, Emma. For as long as it takes, I’ll wait.”
The sincerity in his voice is almost too much, and I pull my hand back, the loss of his touch making me ache even more. Standing, I sling my bag over my shoulder, my throat so tight I can barely speak. “I should go.”
Ethan stands too, his gaze unwavering, the fire in his eyes unrelenting. “Okay,” he says. “But just so you know… I’m going to fight for us this time,” he says, his voice low but resolute. “You’ll see, Emma. I’m not walking away—not again.”
I nod, unable to say anything else, and turn away. As I walk away, the tears I’ve been holding back finally spill over, streaking hot and fast down my cheeks. The weight of his words presses into me, heavy and bittersweet, and every step feels harder than the last.
This isn’t over. Not by a long shot.