Chapter Seventeen
Seventeen
EMMA FELT FAINT AS SHE STOOD IN THE HALL OUTSIDE HER apartment. A large part of her hoped she would pass out so she could avoid what was about to happen. Emma hadn’t been back to the home she’d shared with Ryan since the first week after the breakup—now more than a shocking two months behind her. Each previous visit had been a recovery mission where she’d tried to stuff as many things as possible into her parents’ suitcases before fleeing. But now she was here to stay. At least for a few hours.
After some annoying back-and-forth with Will, Emma had offered her westside apartment as a space for their first production meeting. Emma had bristled at the thought of returning to Will’s place so quickly after his rejection, and her parents’ house wasn’t viable on account of their personalities. She didn’t need her mom and dad sporadically interrupting what was already going to be tricky conversation with her ex-fling--turned-podcasting-partner. So, without thinking, Emma offered up the unused two-bedroom apartment her father had so far failed to find a subletter for. At the time of her suggestion, her higher self thought the location might be good for the story and jog some important memories—but her current self knew it was a terrible idea.
As the lock turned and Emma opened the door to step onto the floating fake hardwood floor, she braced for a wave of emotional pain. While Emma had originally found the place with her old roommate—another classmate from her grad program who had already quit the field to start a juice business—she could barely remember that iteration of the space. In Emma’s memory, this place belonged to her and Ryan, which was why it was so startling to realize all traces of him were gone.
A ball of dust sat where Ryan’s armchair used to be, and the kitchen walls looked sparse without his baseball-themed artwork. Half the books were missing from the media center’s shelves and the overhead light was struggling to make up for the absent floor lamp. She knew that if she looked in the kitchen drawers, anything other than the most basic necessities would be gone. Ryan was the chef in the relationship, and Emma was the picky eater. Maybe that was part of the problem.
Despite having to pee, Emma avoided going deeper into the space than absolutely necessary. Her heart wasn’t ready to see the bedroom where they’d once tried to spice things up with a schoolgirl costume, only to fall all over themselves laughing instead. She didn’t even want to go into the guest bathroom, where Ryan had held her hair back as she puked in the sink since the toilet grossed her out. Poor Ryan had had to scoop up the chunks that wouldn’t go down the drain. It was completely disgusting but he did it with a smile.
Now, Emma wondered if Ryan had secretly added that moment to the con list while privately evaluating their relationship. Not knowing killed her. Was it possible to love someone enough to clean up their puke with a Solo cup, or did that level of intimacy slowly erode any chance at a lasting romance? She wished she knew before her acid reflux inevitably acted up again.
As Emma contemplated where to sit in a home that had once been as familiar to her as her own brain, there was a knock on the door. She took a deep breath and only slightly limped over to open it.
“I come bearing gifts,” Will announced with a podcast mic in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. He was dressed casually in jeans and a Henley shirt, but something about the way the fabric clung to him sprung Emma right back to the last time they’d been in the same physical space together. It angered her that she was no longer allowed to reach out and stroke him. Their window for stroking had been far too short.
“Do you try to get all your subjects drunk before you interview them, or am I special?”
“The wine is for after. As a celebration for baring your soul and giving up a Saturday.”
“In that case, come on in.” Emma moved to the side as Will entered the apartment. She watched him assess her once-shared living space and wondered if it was what he expected. Or if he noticed all the missing books and marks on the walls from artwork that no longer belonged to her. Allowing him inside felt like showing someone an open wound and giving them permission to poke around in it.
“Where do you want to set up?”
“Probably the dining room table.” Emma gestured to the six-person oak table that was a hand-me-down from Jackie’s starter house. It was by far the most expensive thing in the apartment even though Jackie had referred to it as “a piece of junk” because it had a single stain.
Will pulled out a seat in the middle and Emma joined him on the opposite side, immediately putting her elbows on the table as she anxiously rubbed her hands. She wondered if Will felt as calm as he looked or if he was just a premier professional.
“I brought the mics, but we don’t have to start recording today if you aren’t up for it. We can just talk through the plan for the show and figure out some logistics.”
“I’m okay to record. As long as I get to decide what we keep.”
“Fair enough. Let me get us set up.”
As Will went about connecting various wires to his laptop and what she assumed was some sort of fancy recording device, Emma felt herself growing more and more annoyed. Any intimacy they had built together appeared to have vanished. Emma knew she was supposed to be moving on, and she was genuinely excited about seeing Matt again, but realizing Will was so unaffected by her was bringing up old feelings she didn’t want to confront—like how easy it had been for Ryan, her actual fiancé, to walk away from her without a second thought. As a therapist, she had seen countless clients do everything possible to hold onto their exes or unimpressive partners. But no one seemed to have any issue forgetting about Emma.
“I think we are almost good to go—”
“This doesn’t feel weird to you?” Emma interjected. “Us immediately shifting from sleeping together to interviewing each other?”
“Actually, I was just planning on interviewing you,” Will joked. When Emma didn’t laugh, his mood became more somber. He let out a sigh. “Of course it’s fucking weird. Two weeks ago, I was thinking about where to take you to dinner and now I’m writing episode outlines about you marrying someone else.”
“Then why are you acting like everything is fine and you don’t care about me at all?”
Emma felt a rush of embarrassment as the words left her mouth. She hadn’t used that kind of language in a long time, after ruining one too many relationships with her insecurity. And the reality was, Will didn’t have to care about her. They’d only been out a few times and she was clearly projecting her past hurt onto him. But that didn’t make the emotion she was feeling any less real.
“I’m sorry. I think I’m just having a hard time being back here.”
Will nodded with understanding. “I broke my lease after Simone left. It cost me thousands of dollars, but I couldn’t live there anymore. I kept finding myself expecting her to come home. It felt like my body was trained to wait for her.”
“Did it get better when you moved?”
“For the most part. There were still moments of hearing my phone ring and thinking it was her. But the change in scenery definitely helped—even if I had to cancel a trip to Machu Picchu to afford it.”
“I’m paying for this place with my book advance. It’s probably the worst financial decision of my life, considering I’m not even staying here, and I don’t exactly have a ton of savings.”
Will shrugged. “If there is a time for bad decisions, it’s probably right after your fiancé walks out.”
Emma laughed but it rang hollow. “That’s probably what you think this whole thing is, right? An impulsive reaction to getting my heart broken? Instead of rebounding with a fuck boy like a normal person, I’m rushing into marriage with a stranger?”
“I honestly don’t know what I think about it, which is why I want to do the show. The internet’s trained us to have big, clear opinions about everything and if you don’t know where you stand on an issue then you must stand for nothing, or whatever. I like that this operation isn’t clear-cut. I like not knowing how to feel about it. It makes for great conversation, and it’ll force our listeners think for themselves.”
“You think ambivalence is a good thing? Because I hate not knowing how to feel about something. It makes my skin crawl.”
“So there’s no part of you that thinks going through with Operation: Save My Date might be a mistake?”
“There definitely is, I’m just powering through anyway. Exposure therapy and whatnot.”
Will laughed and Emma’s attraction to him bubbled up to the point of bursting. She realized how much she liked the timbre of his voice and how unapologetically he allowed himself to enjoy things. The thought made her remember how much he had seemed to enjoy exploring her. He’d taken his time soaking in each part of her body without making her feel self-conscious or overly exposed. She’d felt like something worth observing under his gaze, but Emma knew she needed to get back to focusing on the podcast before he caught on to her internal monologue or she flung herself at him.
“When do you think this will come out?”
“We’ll want to bank a few episodes first, so maybe in a month? I figure we aim for a new episode once a week until the wedding and then we’ll see if there’s enough momentum to justify a second season.”
“What happens if I don’t make it to the wedding?” Emma asked, mostly to gauge his reaction.
“Then we pivot. And maybe go out to dinner,” Will said with a smile. As if he hadn’t just asked her out on a hypothetical date if her entire life plan failed.
She hated herself for knowing she would say yes.
“Should we start recording?” Emma asked, attempting to squash her growing desire for him by being productive.
“Sure.” Will moved Emma’s mic in front of her and explained that her mouth needed to be closer to it than felt natural to get quality sound. They did a few sound checks and then he hit the record button.
“We are rolling,” Will announced as Emma fixed her hair, briefly forgetting that podcasts were an audio medium. “Don’t worry about providing context or explaining who you are or anything. This is just going to be a conversation and I’ll write proper scripts for the episodes later once we figure out what we have and how we want to present it.”
“Okay,” Emma said, feeling nervous and tongue-tied for once in her very vocal life.
“Great. Let’s start off with a softball question. How was your date last night?”
Emma failed to hide her surprise. Was Will asking for the show or was he asking for himself? “That’s where you want to start?”
“I’ll admit I’ve been curious. Could he be the next Mr. Moskowitz?”
Emma felt torn between giving a truthful answer and trying to stir Will up. She decided on the latter. “Would that bother you?”
Will leaned back in his chair and smiled, bringing the mic with him. “This isn’t about me.”
“Don’t you think it should be at least a little about you, considering how we met?”
Will looked at Emma and she was relieved that he seemed more impressed than annoyed. He opened his mouth, only to immediately close it again; it appeared he was seriously considering the question.
After another moment, he leaned toward her, and she felt the pull of his striking blue eyes. “If that’s how you want to do it, that’s how we’ll do it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, let’s tell it all. From my perspective and your perspective. I won’t just be the host—I’ll be part of the story. If that’s what you want?”
“Yes, thank you. That’s what I want.”
Emma felt a rush of relief that she was no longer going to be the only person sliced open for the world to examine and judge. Will was going to have to open up too. They would be perfect foils to each other—Emma willing to take the biggest risk of her life to find happiness and him willing to take no risk at all. She wondered if the listeners would end up taking sides, with the reasonable romantics proclaiming, “I’m such an Emma,” and the cocky skeptics declaring, “I’m a total Will.”
“We’re in agreement then. Now ask me again if your date last night bothered me.”
“Did my date last night bother you?” Emma asked, holding her breath in anticipation.
“Only if you liked him more than me,” Will replied.
It suddenly felt like they were walking toward each other on a very thin tightrope, waiting to see who would fall off first.
***
“Don’t you think it’s a little too soon to mention Matt on the channel? We’ve only been out once,” Emma argued as Jackie futzed with a new lens that attached to her iPhone.
Each time Emma came over to record a video, there was more and more equipment. Jackie’s second living room was slowly becoming a full-fledged production studio, which was definitely more useful than it simply being a second living room.
“I don’t think you should name names or anything. But your audience will want to know you finally met someone who is open to the plan.” Jackie reached into the makeup belt she had purchased off Amazon to “streamline the process” and “keep things organized.”
“Here, I got you a new powder. It’s specifically designed to reduce all the shine from the lights.” Jackie handed Emma a compact that looked like every other powder she had ever seen.
“I’m just worried I’ll jinx it. Maybe I should wait until things are more official.”
“Emma, the whole point of including people on the journey is to actually include them on the journey. We want them to be able to root for you, not just hear how it all worked out afterward. Plus, sharing that there is a super hot, successful guy who wanted to meet you gives the whole operation credibility.”
“You think Matt’s super hot?”
“You don’t? He’s like a younger, fitter version of Chris with even thicker hair.”
“Chris has very thick hair,” Emma replied, feeling strangely defensive of her brother-in-law.
“I said thick- er ,” Jackie clarified. “I know I caught a good one. Even if he is totally useless around the house.”
This was painfully true. The one time Chris had tried to fix something himself, he’d fallen off a step stool and sprained his ankle. Chris was an incredible athlete, but ask him to change a light fixture and all hell broke loose.
“I guess I can frame it as an exciting development instead of a clear-cut success,” Emma conceded. “So much of dating is the push-and-pull of staying realistic and optimistic at the same time. Maybe l can lean into that.”
Jackie nodded, even though she had dated a total of three guys in her life and had never once been rejected. “When are you seeing Matt again?” Before Emma could respond, Jackie’s eyes lit up and she squealed. “Oh my god! We should double-date. That would be so fun.”
The idea of Emma’s second date with Matt being a conversational four-way filled Emma with dread. She didn’t want to open the door for a Jackie comparison so early in their courtship. Right now, Emma’s connection with Matt felt primarily built on a shared sense of loss. She needed it to build into something deeper before introducing him to her hot older sister.
“Why don’t I kiss him first and then we can see about forcing him to meet my family.”
“I’m not just family. He literally works with my husband. They could expense the whole thing.”
“I know. I’m just…” Emma tried to put her feelings into words without disclosing how often she was still thinking about Will. “Trying to find my footing. Once we have the kinks worked out, and we feel more like a proper couple, I’d love for us all to get together.”
“Fine. I’ll wait,” Jackie agreed, before another brilliant idea came to her. “And then we should all go to the Hamptons for a weekend.”
“Maybe,” Emma fibbed. She wanted to make it to the wedding before committing to any group vacations. And she wanted to spend more time with Matt before committing to a wedding.