Love in Bloom

Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

S o.” Max’s voice dropped, and she pursed her lips. “What did he do this time?” She tilted her head at the large floral arrangement of pink peonies and peach blossoms. Teddy had sent one to my office every day since I returned. When I told him about my ordeal with the flat tire and having to spend the night on my grandparents’ farm, he said he regretted not coming with me and had been apologizing all week.

“He felt bad about not attending the will reading with me, so he’s trying to apologize.”

“How sweet,” she said in a bored voice, slid the attached card out of the envelope, and scanned it. “Are these song lyrics?”

“‘Miss Independent’ by Ne-Yo. It’s how he got me to go out on a date with him.” I smiled at the memory.

Teddy had been pursuing me since freshman year, but I’d told him that I was in school to get my BA, not my MRS—a direct quote from my mother. Plus, Teddy had a reputation with other girls at my school and I wasn’t interested in being his next conquest.

During homecoming weekend sophomore year, Teddy and his fellow pledges sang “Miss Independent” to me at a crowded house party before he asked me out on a date. He was handsome, popular, and from a prominent Atlanta family. Teddy could’ve had any girl at that party, but he wanted me. Even though I’d been turning him down for almost a year, he wanted me.

He was clever enough to know that I wasn’t going to turn him down in such a public setting, and he was right. I agreed to one date only, during the daytime, in a public place, and I would be bringing my roommate. Our first date was a double date at Six Flags Over Georgia. I quickly discovered there was more to Teddy Baker than a pretty face and family legacy. He was incredibly intelligent and passionate about his future. But what really attracted me to Teddy was the side of him that he only shared with me.

Teddy’s frat brothers would never know that he cries every time he watches The Color Purple , or that he has a pair of lucky socks that he wore for exams and now wears to court. He could also be sweet. I remember how he gave me his sweatshirt to wear during our date while we waited in line for the Scream Machine. He refused to let me give it back to him, even when I could see his arms were covered in goose bumps. I’d fallen in love with him that day.

I still saw glimpses of that Teddy every now and then, but lately it felt like we were drifting further and further away from those nineteen-year-old kids who were crazy in love and ready to conquer any challenge together. Maybe that’s how all relationships are. We were not teenagers anymore. I blamed the stress of our jobs and Teddy’s political aspirations for the growing distance. Would his upcoming state senate run finally break us or force us to find each other again?

“Em? Em? Earth to Emma?” Max’s voice, at first distant, came into focus as I turned to gaze at her. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, Max. I’m fine.” I tore my gaze away from Teddy’s flowers and turned to face her.

“Well, you don’t look fine. You look like you’ve been somewhere else all week.”

She was right. My body was in Atlanta, but my mind was four hours away on a farm.

“Come on; let’s go to lunch so we can talk about it.” She stood from her desk and hoisted a new designer bag over her shoulder with an excessive flourish.

“Is that a new bag?” I asked, taking the bait, much to her delight.

“Oh, this old thing?” she said with feigned nonchalance before squealing, “Yes! They’re not even out yet. A friend of one of my connections does media relations for LVMH. I called in a few favors to get his kid into a private school in Manhattan… et voila! New Louis for me, to say thank you.” She twirled and took a bow, making me laugh. A lunch with Maxima Clarke would have been just what I needed to lift my spirits, but unfortunately, I had more pressing matters to attend to.

“I would love to go to lunch, but sadly, I can’t.”

“Well, why the hell not?” She mock pouted. “This is upsetting me and my new Louis.”

I snorted a laugh.

“I have to meet this real estate guy for lunch. It’s about my grandparents’ farm. His company is interested in buying and I told him I’d hear him out.”

“You are planning to sell that farm, right? If I see even one picture of you in overalls holding a pitchfork, I will block you on all social media platforms.”

“I haven’t decided yet.” I chuckled. “I know my grandparents would want the farm to stay in the family, but I know my mother doesn’t want it, and I don’t know what the hell to do with a farm. Plus, it’s four hours away.”

“What does Theodore Aloysius Baker the Third think?” she asked sardonically. I’ve never been able to tell if Max likes or dislikes Teddy. She’s extremely talented at keeping her cards close to her chest, something that makes her one of the best PR reps at the firm. However, she never misses an opportunity to drag Teddy and his family in her never-ending indictment of the self-proclaimed Atlanta elite.

“Teddy thinks I should sell as soon as I can.” I sighed. “With his upcoming senate run, he thinks we need one less thing to worry about and more money to put toward a house.”

“A house that you don’t want.” Max raised an eyebrow.

“I never said that I didn’t want a house.” I defaulted to defending my relationship. “I just said I wasn’t ready for one. I mean, we’re going to have to buy one eventually, right?”

“Hmm.” She narrowed her eyes before continuing. “What about your mom?”

“She told me that my grandparents left the farm to me and that it was none of her business.”

“For real?” Max dropped her head to the side, her eyes widened in shock.

“Her exact words.” I sighed.

“That’s tough, baby girl.” She wrapped her hand around mine and squeezed gently. “Well, if you want my unwashed opinion, and you’re gonna get it anyway, I think you should sell. This is a lot to get dropped on your lap. Plus, it’s wrapped up in family drama, which is a big no-no for me.”

“Max, you love drama,” I scoffed.

“I don’t love drama for me or the people I care about.” She pursed her lips and gave me a pointed look. My heart swelled at her sentiment because Max wasn’t the particularly warm-and-fuzzy type. “Now”—she raised her eyebrows and dropped her chin conspiratorially—“other people’s drama? Sign me up for jubilee!”

I burst out laughing, making the ambient chatter from the rest of the offices stop momentarily.

“So where are you meeting this real estate guy?”

“Chops and Lobster.”

“Okay, moneybags! Have fun.”

“I doubt it.”

“Well, if you change your mind, Louis and I will be at The Capital Grille… at the bar.” She gave me another pointed look that made me crack up.

“Please leave before you get us fired.”

I smiled as I watched Max leave our office, swinging her new bag. My smile faded as I opened the top drawer of my desk and ran my fingertips over the old picture frame inside.

“Emma, you’re about to be the next Michelle Obama, you know you can’t run a farm in the middle of West Bubblefu—fudge… Hmm? Parker, no. Mama is talking to Titi Emma. See? Wave.” A tiny brown hand covered in what looked like red marker shot into the frame of my tablet and wiggled back and forth. “You need to be patient. Go play with your Mandarin flash cards and I’ll get you carrot sticks and hummus in a few minutes…”

My four-year-old godson’s diet put mine to shame. Teddy was working late again, so I was leaning over my sink, eating pad thai directly out of the take-out container, and drinking red wine out of a rinsed-out coffee mug—all so I wouldn’t have to wash dishes.

“Danielle, five more minutes on the tablet… Oh my God,” Rebecca groaned. “Don’t have kids, Em. It’s a setup.”

I was midsip of wine and almost choked. Becks was joking, of course. Those kids were her entire world, and my best friend was born to be a mother. She got a lot of practice with me, her practically motherless roommate, all four years at Spelman. She started dating Benjamin West the same year Teddy and I got together—technically the same day. But unlike Teddy and me, Ben and Becks got married right after graduation, and she skipped postgrad to start having kids while Ben went to medical school. Now her life is PTA meetings, extracurricular activities, and homeowner committees.

“Mrs. Rebecca Perez-West, blink twice if you want me to rescue you.” I grinned at my iPad screen.

“Em, don’t tempt me. I have a go bag in the hall closet. It’s filled with tiny tequila bottles, thongs, and rolls of dollar bills.” She waggled her eyebrows at me.

“Stop, you’re gonna make me choke.” I wheezed.

“Enough about my domestic hell, let’s get back to this meeting with the real estate guy. How much money are they offering?”

I began to tell Becks about my lunch meeting with Preston Smith. He was just as condescending and smarmy as I’d expected based on our initial meeting, but his generous offer on the farm left me with a huge dilemma. “A lot,” I answered with a grimace.

“So what’s the problem?”

“The problem is that I don’t know if I want to sell it.”

“Mija, I know your family situation is fucked up, and your mother was dead wrong for keeping you in the dark all these years, but you are an adult with your own life. You’re about to be married to a state senator, buy a big-ass house, fill it with kids, host elaborate dinner parties, and invite your best friend and her surgeon husband to them so she can sit next to John Legend and Chrissy Teigen…” She raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a wicked smile.

“You’re right,” I said with a sigh.

“As usual,” she said in a bored voice, popped an orange triangle in her mouth, and crunched.

“Becks, are you eating Doritos?”

“No,” she yelled. “They’re kale chips, and they’re very, very spicy!” She narrowed her eyes at me before rolling them and eating another Dorito. “So what did Teddy say when you told him about the offer?” I loaded up my chopsticks with noodles and shoved them in my mouth instead of answering her. “You didn’t tell him? Em…”

“It’s my decision. I just want some time to think things over.” I also wanted to know more about my grandparents and Annie, but I didn’t mention that to Becks. I thought about the picture in my desk drawer at work.

“If you and Teddy are planning to spend your lives together, you have to share everything. It’s what keeps me and Ben together. We don’t keep secrets from each other.”

“Like very, very spicy kale chips?” I asked with a raised eyebrow. She narrowed her eyes in response and ate another chip.

“That’s different, and you know it. Stop trying to deflect.” She let out a loud crunch. “How many times have I told you over the last decade to stop trying to handle everything yourself?”

“I’m not trying to handle everything myself,” I retorted. “Just this. Teddy is busy at the firm, and with his upcoming senate run… I don’t need to bother him with this.”

“Bother him?” She leaned back dramatically, rolled her eyes, and slapped her countertop. “Bother him? Emma, Teddy is crazy about you. That man worships the ground you walk on. Every time Ben talks to him, he’s bragging about how beautiful and smart you are and how lucky he is to have you. In school, you two had the kind of love everyone wanted. Emma and Teddy—destined to rule the world.” Rebecca was painting a rosy picture of Teddy’s and my relationship. I couldn’t talk about my issues with Becks because, not only was her husband Teddy’s best friend, but she also had put Teddy and me on this impossible pedestal. I was almost afraid to disappoint her by admitting that things weren’t as perfect as she thought.

“Well, I don’t know how close we are to world domination, but I promise I’ll talk to Teddy about this soon.”

“Okay, babe. Let me let you go so I can get back to my little bums.”

“Okay, Becks. Don’t eat too many kale chips.”

“Shut up.” She chuckled. “Love you, Em. Take care of yourself. Tell Teddy I said hi.”

“Will do. Love you, too.”

I tapped the red button on my screen. Rebecca disappeared and I was once again left to my own thoughts.

I was still no closer to a decision on the farm when I dragged myself into work the next morning. I’d already sucked down two venti lattes and was prepared to have my assistant grab another as soon as I got to my desk.

The elevators opened to Maxima pacing in the hallway. She practically attacked me when she saw me.

“Jesus Christ, Emma!” She grabbed me by the arm and tugged me down the hall. “Where have you been?”

“Max, what in the hell?” I struggled to keep up with her in my heels. She finally pulled me into a storage closet and locked the door behind us.

“I’ve been calling you all morning.”

“I turned my phone off last night. I needed some time to think.”

“You turned off…” Max looked like she was using all of her energy not to grab me by the shoulders and shake me until my neck snapped. “Nina is furious. She’s been looking for you all morning. Did something happen with Blake Malone?”

“Blake Malone? No.” That was one blessing in all this mess. Blake seemed to have actually kept his promise to turn over a new leaf. He was photographed with his family at the beach. His wife was sporting a new diamond ring. He’d been showing up to set on time. I couldn’t imagine why Nina would be pissed at me.

“Think, Emma. Because this closet is the frying pan. Out there”—she pointed to the closed door—“is the fire.”

“Max.” I lifted my coffee cup to my lips forgetting it was empty. “I have no idea what this is about, but I can’t hide in this closet all morning.”

My dutiful work wife guided me through three calming breaths before we slipped out of the closet. My ass had barely hit my desk chair when my assistant rushed in.

“Emma. Nina wants to see you in her office ASAP.”

“Did she say what it was about?” I tried my best to look surprised, but my heart was hammering in my chest. Alicia shook her head. “Do you have any idea what it could be about?”

“I have no clue,” she said nervously. “The only thing I could think of would be the McNair revisions.”

My heart stopped. What McNair revisions? There were no revisions. An NDA doesn’t have revisions. Keep your mouth shut in exchange for money. It’s pretty cut-and-dried.

“Alicia,” I said slowly, vaguely aware that I was supporting my weight with my arms because my knees were suddenly weak. “What McNair revisions?”

“Well…” Her throat clenched and unclenched before she continued speaking. “Ms. McNair’s attorneys made revisions to the NDA. I emailed them to you for approval.”

“When did you email them, Alicia?” I was frantically digging through my purse for my phone.

“Last week…” she said in a voice barely above a whisper.

Shit. Shit. Fuck. Shit.

She was right. There was an email sitting in my inbox dated five days ago. The subject line was “McNair NDA.” I must have glanced at it and assumed it was the signed documents and that Alicia had sent them to legal, simply copying me on the email to let me know it was done. This wasn’t Alicia’s fault. It was mine. This was a huge mistake, and I don’t make any mistakes, much less huge ones. I felt sick to my stomach, and I slumped into my chair. This past week was too much. I was being stretched beyond my limit and feeling ready to snap like a rubber band.

“Um… Nina…” Alicia gently reminded me.

I took a deep breath and gathered my thoughts. I still had no idea why Nina wanted to talk to me. Hopefully this had nothing to do with Denise McNair’s NDA and I could fix this before lunch. I stood from my desk, straightened my dress, tried yet again to take a sip of coffee from my empty cup before asking my assistant to have a fresh one waiting for me after my meeting, and walked down the hall.

Nina Laramie’s office wasn’t so much an office as it was a power statement. It was expensively and tastefully decorated but also sterile and menacing. With mostly clear glass and acrylic furniture, the only touch of softness was a plush white couch, reserved for soothing distressed clients. Situated in the corner of the building, her office occupied almost a quarter of the thirtieth floor. The walls that weren’t floor-to-ceiling windows were painted Decorator’s White and only accented with a revolving door of paintings from whatever artist was the rage at the moment.

Being called into her office was always a terrifying prospect, and one that I had yet to experience. Nina usually preferred to communicate by text, phone, and messages sent through third parties—usually terrified interns and assistants. If she wanted to look you in the eye while she excoriated you, things were dire. At least that’s what I’ve heard. No wonder Max was so nervous.

Nina was perched behind her desk holding a tablet when her assistant showed me into her office and disappeared just as quickly.

“Nina,” I called to her with way more confidence than I felt. “You wanted to see me.”

She didn’t answer me. Instead, she indicated that I should sit in one of the large acrylic chairs in front of her desk. Her frosty blue eyes followed me as I crossed the room and slowly lowered myself into a chair.

She huffed out an exasperated sigh and dropped the tablet on her desk.

“Have you ever heard of the Secret Soufflé?”

“The Secret Soufflé?” I asked in a confused voice. Did Nina really call me into her office to ask me about French desserts?

“It’s a large soufflé served at Petrossian in New York City, prepared by Chef Richard Farnabe, containing Royal Reserve Ossetra caviar and quail eggs at the center. The soufflé is smoked with applewood before being flambéed in Hennessy Richard, right before your eyes at the table. Each Secret Soufflé costs twenty-five hundred dollars and must be ordered well in advance. It is an incredibly unique and rare culinary event that few will get the chance to experience in their lifetimes.”

She paused for dramatic effect before continuing.

“Do you know why I’m telling you this, Emma?”

I shook my head slowly.

“Because last night, Mr. Laramie flew me to New York City and surprised me with a reservation at Petrossian. Guess what he preordered for our visit?”

“The Secret Soufflé?” I answered in a strained whisper because my throat was suddenly tight.

“The Secret Soufflé.” She nodded. “And just as I’d barely begun to experience the most decadent meal of my forty-seven years, I got an alarming message.” She reached behind her and grabbed her tablet. “It appears that Limelight Magazine has landed an exclusive interview with a Denise McNair, professionally known as”—she glanced up at me for the briefest moment before returning her gaze to her tablet—“Enchantment,” she continued with a derisive sneer, “detailing a night of drugs, drinking, debauchery, and drunk driving with Blake Malone… I thought to myself, that couldn’t possibly be true because one of my most competent reps assured me that Blake Malone’s unfortunate incident was all taken care of.”

She paused again and narrowed her eyes at me.

“Nina, I—” I tried to speak, but she cut me off. It was a good thing, too, because I had no idea how I could possibly hope to explain a fuckup of this magnitude.

“I don’t want to hear it. I called you no less than twelve times last night. I had to cut my trip to New York short, pull every trick and favor out of my ass to fix this, not to mention my checkbook.

“Emma, you have been an exemplary employee. Twenty-four hours ago, I would have said you were the best. You have the look, the education, the connections, the experience, the wit. In five years, you could have been running this firm. But, Emma”—she slapped the tablet down again—“this is not the kind of fuckup you come back from. This isn’t about Blake Malone. In ten years, some other Hollywood hunk with a tight ass and a six-pack will come along and hopefully Mr. Malone will have been smart enough to have pivoted into production. People like Blake Malone don’t keep the lights on. The studio is our client. If we can’t handle a simple transaction like an NDA, what good are we? This is a multimillion-dollar fuckup, Emma.”

“I am so sorry, Nina,” I stammered. “I’ve just been going through a lot lately. It shouldn’t have affected my work, but it did, and I promise it won’t happen again.”

Nina wasn’t looking at me, she was scanning the tablet.

“It’s almost a shame we had to kill this article,” she mused. “This writer actually has some talent. This passage, in particular, is quite fetching: ‘If I were Blake Malone, I would fire my publicist.’” Nina lowered the tablet to glare at me. “What excellent advice… Emma, you’re fired.”

My entire body was numb. I wasn’t sure how, but I somehow managed to make it back to my office and collapse into my chair.

“Well?” Max was waiting for me when I returned, her face twisted in anticipation. Alicia was hovering in the doorway, trying to look busy. I managed to mumble out a retelling of my colossal fuckup that led to Nina’s one-sided conversation in her office and ended with me being fired.

“We are going to have a very long, boozy, and expensive lunch while Alicia packs up your office.” Max shot my now-former assistant a look, and she scurried off—presumably to get boxes. “But first things first, we’re going to copy all of your contacts before she has IT block your access,” she continued in a whisper when Alicia was out of earshot, while she clicked away on my keyboard.

“Max, I can’t drink. It’s only ten a.m.”

“Ma’am. It’s five o’ clock somewhere, and you are unemployed, so you can do whatever the fuck you want. Let’s go. Louis insists.”

“That raggedy bitch,” Max muttered under her breath, and I snorted a laugh. Admittedly, I was working on my second martini, so Max’s antics were funnier than usual. “How many of her fuckups have we fixed over the years? And she fires you for one damn mistake?” She signaled the bartender for another order of prosciutto-wrapped mozzarella and more drinks.

“It was a pretty big mistake,” I conceded. The shock of getting fired was slowly wearing off and I began to consider the aftermath. How was I going to explain this to my clients, my mother, Teddy? As if on cue, my phone buzzed in my purse. Teddy. I stared at it in stupefaction for a long moment before Max snatched it out of my hand and ignored the call.

“No. You need time.” She turned to the bartender and yelled, “And another martini!”

After another two hours of drinking, bashing my former boss, and eating my weight in fried calamari and crab cakes, I began to feel slightly less hopeless. Teddy would probably be relieved that I’d lost my job. It would be one less thing for us to fight about. All of my focus would be on his senate run, house hunting, and planning the biggest wedding in the state. That is, if Teddy ever gets around to proposing and stops talking about marriage like it’s some foregone conclusion.

The problem was that I liked working. I loved it. I wasn’t crazy about working for Nina, or working through some of the frivolous issues of our high-profile clients like we were solving world peace, but I loved my independence and the ability to put my degree to use. The same skill for problem-solving and thinking three to five steps ahead that helped me win chess tournaments is what made me one of Atlanta’s top PR reps—until this morning.

Maybe I didn’t have to stop working. I had a JD from an Ivy League. I could take the Georgia State Bar Exam and practice law. I secretly consulted on enough of Teddy’s cases to know my skills would be valuable to someone. I could start my own PR firm. How many times had Max and I daydreamed about striking out on our own? I was a woman with options. For a brief, gin-filled moment, I considered the farm as an option. Perhaps I could be a part of something else, something completely different from the life that I felt had been weighing me down lately. Maybe I needed a change.

I mentioned my farm idea to Maxima, who by that point was too drunk to be polite and pulled no punches in telling me what a “horrible fucking idea” it was, before making jokes about me on a tractor or milking a cow. I laughed along, partly because I agreed that I would look ridiculous milking a cow, but mostly because I didn’t want Max to know how empty I felt inside.

Max insisted I use the company car service to take me home and she’d arrange to have my car dropped off later. I initially protested, telling her I’d call an Uber, but once I was sinking into the plush leather seats and sipping the complimentary ice-cold sparkling water, I would have paid the driver extra to drive me into the building and up the stairs to my condo.

After fumbling with my keys, I made it into my condo, let out a sigh of relief, and took two steps before coming into contact with something hard in the middle of my floor and tumbling face-first onto the hardwood floor of my foyer.

“What the fuck?” I yelled when I hit the ground. The contents of my bag were scattered everywhere, and I found myself sprawled in the midst of several mini towers of white cardboard bankers boxes. It took me a second—okay, a few seconds—to realize that these were the boxes from my office. This led to me trying to solve the mystery of how they got inside the condo. The answer came from a familiar voice shouting my name and a pair of large, warm hands pulling me up to a shaky standing position.

“Teddy?” I swayed on my feet and gripped his shoulder for dear life. “What the hell are you doin’ in here?” I could tell I was slurring my words and I honestly couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this drunk.

“Baby, I live here,” he said seriously, and I rolled my eyes. I was just a little tipsy, not suffering from a traumatic brain injury.

“I know that, silly.” I smiled and bopped his nose with my finger. I snorted with laughter, but Teddy didn’t find our situation as hilarious as I did. “Why. Aren’t. You. At. Work?” I asked slowly.

“Because I heard what happened at Laramie and I was worried about you.” He was gently gripping my shoulders and rubbing his thumbs back and forth in a soothing gesture. His brow was furrowed, and he was searching my face for a response. He felt like my old Teddy, the one I’d been missing.

That Teddy would hold me in his arms after any crisis, real or imagined, and convince me that everything was going to be okay.

That Teddy would drop everything at his big, important Atlanta law firm job and rush home because his girlfriend lost her job.

I looked into the deep brown eyes that captured a nineteen-year-old girl’s heart while waiting in line for a roller coaster a decade ago. My eyes filled with tears, and I felt my bottom lip quiver. Teddy squeezed me into his chest and pressed a kiss to my forehead.

“You’re gonna be okay, Emmababy,” he whispered, and my belly fluttered at his nickname for me. It was a name he used sparingly these days. “You are the smartest, cleverest, and most amazing woman—fuck that, person—I know. Nina Laramie is going to regret firing you.” He placed another kiss on the top of my head. The combination of the warmth of his big body enveloping me and the intoxicating smell of his cologne made me feel like I was floating. The martinis probably factored a lot into the equation. I could have stayed in that embrace forever.

“Really?” I mumbled into his chest, feeling like the college junior whose boyfriend used to brag about her high exam scores to his friends.

“Yes, really.” He held me away from him to kiss my forehead. “And it couldn’t have come at a better time. I’m gonna be announcing my senate run soon. I’ve already got some heavy hitters lined up with their checkbooks open.” I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed myself back into his chest. My nostalgia faded and my euphoria slipped away like the air being let out of a balloon. I willed Teddy to stop talking.

“You can focus on finding us a house with lots of bedrooms. Mama said that there’s a house for sale in the same cul-de-sac as hers and Daddy’s. Wouldn’t that be amazing? Our kids could grow up with their Nana and Pop Pop just a few houses away.” My stomach lurched and I felt the crab cakes threatening to make a reappearance. I tightened my arms around Teddy’s waist—a gesture he misread because he chuckled and rubbed my back.

“That job was beneath you anyway. You’re too smart to be cleaning up the messes of movie stars and strippers.” I tensed up.

“So am I too smart to clean up the messes of politicians and affluent businessmen?” I picked my head up and glared at him. He immediately picked up the deeper meaning in my question: the night we never discuss. Perhaps I wouldn’t have brought it up if he hadn’t just insulted my job, or let’s face it, if I weren’t completely drunk at one in the afternoon on a Wednesday. Why did I let Max talk me into doing shots?

Jesus, please give me a time machine.

Let me go back five minutes into the past, when my handsome and thoughtful boyfriend was holding me in his arms and telling me that everything was going to be okay. Because in the present moment, we were standing on the threshold of an argument. We’d had so many in the past year that they were easy to see coming, like the way Granny Walters can always smell rain coming. This one was gearing up to be one for the ages, one we might not be able to come back from, but one that was inevitable.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean, Em?” Teddy dropped his embrace, glaring at me.

“You know exactly what it means. What I do for a living is never good enough until you need me for something.” I took a step back, stumbling slightly. His biceps flexed to reach for me. I wasn’t sure if he wanted to hold me again or steady me on my feet. Whichever it was, I didn’t want it. I didn’t want him to touch me. “I happened to like what I did, and I was proud of the things I was able to accomplish at Laramie. I liked having a job, a purpose, something that’s mine.” I pressed my palm into my chest.

“Emma, you will have a purpose. You will be my wife.”

“Do you hear yourself?” I let out a loud laugh. “My sole purpose in life is not to be somebody’s wife.”

“Not somebody’s , Emma. Mine. This was always our dream. The senate, the governor’s mansion, the White House.” He ticked off every point on his fingers. “We were supposed to build this life together. Now you’re on some other shit. I don’t even recognize you anymore.”

“You don’t recognize me?” I screeched. “If anyone has changed, it’s you.”

“C’mon,” he scoffed angrily and tossed up his arms dismissively, turning his back on me. “I’ve always been the same. I’ve known who I am and what I’m supposed to be from the day I was born. You knew who I was when we met—hell, before we met. Who my father was and what was expected of me.”

“You used to put me first,” I said with a sob punctuated by a hiccup. He whipped around to face me.

“Emma, you are the most important person in my life. None of this works without you. How do you not see that?”

“Needing me in your life and wanting me in your life are not the same thing.”

“What?” he spluttered. “What are you even talking about, Emma? You’re drunk and you’re upset.”

Teddy was right on both accounts. I was very drunk and very upset, but that didn’t make what I was saying any less true, and I didn’t think I’d have the courage to say it if I were sober.

“You’re right, Teddy. None of this shit works without me because I have done everything you’ve ever asked me to do. I pick out your clothes. I schedule your haircuts. I write your speeches. I call in favors for you. I plan events. I write legal briefs for you. I proofread contracts—”

“Emma, stop.”

“—and you don’t even say thank you. I always put you first, Teddy. Your wants, your needs, your aspirations. And you couldn’t even go to a fucking will reading with me.”

“You’re still on this? I said I was sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t go with you to the will reading, but you’re not the only one who’s fucking busy, Emma. And I thought you did all that shit for me because you loved me. You take care of your man because you love him. Like my mother. Are you saying my mother’s life doesn’t have a purpose?”

“Don’t compare me to your mother.” I clumsily waved a finger at him and dropped my voice an octave. “I will never be like your mother.”

“Emma.” He said my name like a warning.

“Will you be like your father?”

“Emma,” he repeated in a strained whisper.

“Teddy. Do we even still love each other?”

“Jesus Christ. Of course, I still love you. Do you love me?”

“I don’t know.”

“What? What the fuck is going on with you? Are you having a nervous breakdown?”

“Maybe.” I shrugged and let out a hysterical laugh. “But why do you love me, Teddy? Tell me what you love about me.”

“Dammit, Emma, I don’t know. I can’t answer this now. You’re being ridiculous.”

“You want to marry me, and you can’t even tell me why.” A sudden wave of sadness washed over me. “You need me. You need me to become a state senator. Just like you needed me to get into law school and write your papers and pass your exams for you.”

Teddy froze and his eyes widened in shock. He didn’t speak. He knew better than to try to deny anything I was saying. I could tell I’d hurt him, but I couldn’t stop myself.

“Then we’ll get married, and I’ll be by your side as you achieve greatness. Then maybe you’ll cheat on me, too.”

“You’re out of pocket, Emma.”

“Tell me why you love me, Teddy. Give me a reason that doesn’t have anything to do with my degrees, or the way I look, or how many languages I can speak…”

He glared at me, his eyes blazing with anger, but he didn’t speak.

“Maybe we should break up,” I whispered.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” he exploded. “We’re not kids, Emma. We can’t just break up. There is too much at stake. You’re drunk. You’re emotional. You don’t know what you’re saying… Break up? No.”

“No?” I tilted my head and glared at him. “What the hell do you mean, no?”

“Emma, you’re being ridiculous. What are you gonna do without me? What…” He chuckled mirthlessly. “Are you going out to the middle of nowhere to become a farmer?”

Of all the horrible things we’d said to each other, this stung the most. Not only was Teddy implying that I was no one without him, but he was also poking at the sore spot that was the farm, my relationship with my mother, my estranged grandparents, and Annie.

“Maybe I will!” I shouted. “And the real question is what in the hell are you going to do without me? Huh, Teddy?” I took a step toward him and poked a finger into his chest. “Who’s gonna remember everyone’s names and life stories at parties? Who’s gonna make sure your suits are always clean? Who’s gonna tie your fucking ties?” Teddy grabbed my wrist, most likely to prevent me from poking him again.

“I don’t know what the hell has gotten into you, but I’m not gonna stand here and listen to this bullshit.” He released my hand and stomped off toward our bedroom. A moment later, he stormed out, still wearing his suit but carrying an overstuffed duffel bag.

“I’m leaving,” he announced unnecessarily. What the hell else would he be doing with a duffel bag? “When you sober up and come to your senses, call me.” He backed away from me, still glaring, and in two steps he tripped over the same box I had, landing flat on his back. His duffel bag went flying in the air before landing with a thud on his chest.

I burst out laughing. Add that to the list of the many things I wouldn’t normally do if I were sober, but I wasn’t sober, and again, I couldn’t stop myself.

“Are you okay?” I managed to wheeze out. Teddy jumped to his feet, shaking his head and dusting off his suit.

“I’m fine,” he gritted out through clenched teeth. Those were his last words to me before he slammed the door to our condo, leaving me standing in our foyer among a pile of boxes.

I opened my eyes to find the sun was still out and attempting to blind me through the windows of my bedroom. Within a few seconds, the events of one of the worst days of my life came flooding back with startling clarity. I didn’t even have the mercy of a drunken blackout. I remembered every terrible detail of losing my job and my boyfriend walking out on me. I even remembered stumbling into my bedroom and flopping across the duvet fully clothed, without washing my face or tying up my hair—something I never did.

My tongue seemed glued to the roof of my mouth, and my head felt like it was being kicked from the inside. According to my watch, it was only six-thirty, which meant I’d been passed out for four hours. I was dying of thirst and had to pee, which was the only reason I attempted to get out of bed.

I’d only made it halfway down the hall before I managed to stumble over another one of my office boxes. Luckily, I managed to keep my footing this time, since Teddy wasn’t here to pick me up off the floor. After screaming a stream of expletives and kicking the box as hard as I could, I continued my perilous journey to the bathroom.

I didn’t recognize the woman I saw in the mirror. I mean, she definitely looked like me—if I’d been in a fight and lost. In a way, that was exactly what happened. There were huge black smudges under my eyes that were once meticulously applied eyeliner and mascara. One side of my hair looked like a tangled bird’s nest. The other side, the one I slept on, was a tangle of waves and sweaty curls. My dress was wrinkled and covered in stains. I scratched at one crusty red spot of marinara sauce. I stared into my mirror’s reflection and let the gravity of the day swallow me whole. I looked exactly how I felt.

The first fat tear stung my eyes and was quickly followed by another. My face crumpled, and I let out a sob. I didn’t have the warm, strong arms of my boyfriend to comfort me while I cried because I no longer had a boyfriend. If I were to be honest, Teddy hadn’t really been my boyfriend for a long time. I also didn’t have a job. For the first time in my life, I didn’t know what my next step was. Emma Walters didn’t have a plan. Being free from a job I didn’t like and a relationship that had been deteriorating should have felt freeing, but I was terrified and ashamed. I still hadn’t turned my phone on since Max turned it off in the bar, and I was sure that I’d have no less than 147 messages from my mother, who must have gotten an earful from Teddy by now.

I turned on the shower and watched the steam fill my bathroom as I slowly slipped out of my dress. The jets of hot water beat me into consciousness and I closed my eyes. Tears streamed down my face. When I had no tears left, I washed and conditioned my hair. When I got out, I didn’t bother to blow-dry it, simply massaging in a dollop of leave-in conditioner and letting it air dry into shiny, dark brown corkscrews that grazed my shoulders. The sets of thin and brightly colored lace panties and bras in my drawer were shoved aside in favor of a pair of large cotton boy shorts and a sports bra. I dressed myself in a pair of baggy sweatpants and a Columbia Law T-shirt—mine, not Teddy’s.

I suddenly felt lighter and freer than I had in a long time. My life was still falling apart, but crying about it in the shower wasn’t going to fix it. After taking two Advil and pouring myself a glass of orange juice, I decided my first order of business was unpacking the boxes from my office.

At the end of my third glass of orange juice and halfway through my Stevie Wonder playlist on Spotify, I came to the last box. The photo of me and Annie was sitting right on top when I pulled off the lid. I stared at it for a long time.

The two little girls, one slightly taller than the other, dressed in identical dresses with identical hairstyles, were calling to me. I focused my gaze on Annie, who was frozen in time as a little girl, in flashes of memories that felt more like dreams. Her dazzling smile betrayed the severity of her illness, which showed in her frail form and sunken eyes. She had her arm around me, holding me close as if she were protecting me from something. Little-girl Emma was gazing up at her, laughing as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

She didn’t.

Little-girl Emma had her big sister, her grandparents, and her mom and dad. Soon after this photo was taken, something changed everything for that little girl—even before Annie died. For the first time in my life, I was desperate to know what had torn us all apart when we needed each other the most.

My brain began to whir. The farm hadn’t left my thoughts since the will reading. The idea of living on the farm was far-fetched a week ago, but now there was nothing stopping me. There were too many questions that needed answers. What happened to my family when Annie died? Who were my grandparents that I could barely remember anymore, yet were so beloved by the town? If they were such great people, could my parents have really been okay keeping their grandchildren from them? Why in the world would they choose me, someone they barely knew, to bear the responsibility of a place that I have no idea how to manage? The obvious solution would have been to give it to Dan. He seemed a lot more capable—and certainly more beloved by the people in town. My thoughts turned to how capable he was of taking care of me that night.

Yes, he was bold and obnoxious, but I’d never been taken care of like that before by anyone. Especially not by Teddy.

Yes—I needed answers. I wasn’t going to get them from my mother. I thought of Preston Smith, Teddy, and even Max and Becks telling me that I couldn’t run a farm, but what the hell did they know? Spending my life caring what everyone thought about me got me to this point, so maybe it was time I stopped. Also, maybe I needed another one of Dan’s grilled chicken-and-cheese sandwiches.

I jumped to my feet, ran to my room, and packed my own duffel bag. Several times while shoving various articles of clothing into my bag—what the hell does one wear on a farm anyway? Definitely nothing I had—I thought of Dan. Would it be okay if I just showed up unannounced? Should I call him first? I don’t even have his number.

I pointed my car toward Green Acres with a thrum of nervous excitement. A small part of me was actually looking forward to seeing Dan again. I convinced myself it was because I wanted to ask him questions about my grandparents, or maybe it was because I wanted him to make me another sandwich. It definitely had nothing to do with the way the muscles in his back flexed when he cooked, or the way his beard twitched when he almost smiled. Then I forced myself to remember how rude and overbearing he was after the will reading. Although my car has been a lot quieter since he insisted I have it fixed.

He doesn’t need to know that.