53. EMERSON
53
EMERSON
Now
My hand is in a fist—nails digging into the skin on my palm to the point that I know there will be crescent moons when I uncurl my fingers—and I’m pounding on Natalie’s door.
“Open up, Natalie!” I keep pounding on the door. “I know you’re home!”
The sound of her feet scurrying to the door echoes in the hallway—she’s never been the quietest person. She opened her door as if she was expecting me. Probably does. I had Liam drop me off here with a festering amount of adrenaline and anger. Knowing him, he probably warned her about the fury coming her way.
“Emme!” She lunges forward, pulling me into a hug. Her arms wrap around me and squeeze tight—so tight I can’t breathe or move.
“Nat, a little hard to breathe.”
“Oops. Sorry, I’m happy to see you,” Natalie replies. She looks me up and down. “You look hungry. I was making waffles.” Waffles at two in the afternoon? She’s compensating. She knows I know.
Natalie doesn’t let me answer before grabbing my hand and pulling me into her place. She’s in a peppy mood that I’m about to ruin.
“Do you want blueberries or chocolate chips? Screw it, let’s have both.”
I don’t respond.
“How was your weekend away?” She asks me. “Has it been as good as you remember? ”
Natalie is asking me about sex with Liam. You’ve got to be kidding me.
A new thought, much scarier than the ones that drove me here, passes through my head. Eyes go wide with terror. Did she have sex with him? Of course, she did. It’s Natalie. How did I not think about this? No, stop Emerson. Liam told you he didn’t. But he also didn’t mention this. Maybe he lied to you.
I sit there and stare at her. Hands under my legs to help contain my anxious ticks.
“Did you sleep with him?”
She takes out two plates and places two giant waffles on each. Opening the containers of blueberries, she washes them before placing one in every other compartment of the waffles. In the other compartments, she places chocolate chips.
“Syrup?” she asks.
“Natalie,” I demand.
“No.”
“I don’t believe you. You are the most sex-positive person I know. For the slimmest part of my sanity right now, tell me if you did.”
“I didn’t, I promise. It’s a line I didn’t want to cross.” Natalie’s eyes pinch.
“Seriously? That was the line you drew? You’ve got to be kidding me, Natalie. That is ridiculous, you know that?”
“Yeah. . .”
We eat—Natalie eats, I stare at her—in silence, my frustration fuming, and all you can hear is the clinking of the fork and plate.
“Soooooooooo,” she comments behind her napkin, which she wipes her mouth with.
“Why’d you do it?” I ask directly.
“Emme, you have to believe I never meant to hurt you.”
“That’s what you start with? You never meant to hurt me.” My eyes flutter. I laugh. “You’ve got to be shitting me, Nat. You can’t even lead with an apology. ”
“You have to believe me—”
“Why? Why should I?” I shake my head at her, pushing my uneaten waffle to the center of the counter. “You lied. You manipulated him and our relationship for your own game. How did you not expect to hurt him or me in the process?”
“It wasn’t a game.”
“You could have told him the truth. If he loves me like he’s saying, he wouldn’t have needed you to fool him into coming back to me. What does that make me? Second place. A consolation prize of friendship, how wonderful. I should have seen it earlier. You’ve been doing this our entire friendship. You take advantage of my weaknesses to get what you want. You devalued the friendship I thought we had. And now, you devalued whatever the hell Liam and I were!”
After Liam confessed everything Natalie did, I told him I needed space and a chance to figure this out. I was hurt that he didn’t say anything to me. I understand that Natalie promised she would tell me, but why didn’t he bring it up? His excuse was that he thought I would freak out. Well, he’s right.
“That’s not true. How does this do that?” She’s shaking her head at me like I’m the crazy one in the situation.
“Are you serious right now? How could I not think that if you knew who he was and intentionally did this? You did this for yourself. You always do everything for yourself.”
“I did this for YOU!” she raises her voice. “Emme, you barely, BARELY, told me about him. I’m lucky I saw a glimpse of him three years ago to even know who he was.”
“You saw him three years ago?”
“A photo. Your photos. On your birthday, when you were putting all that clutter into a box in your closet. I was awake that morning and could see the photos. I snuck back into your room later and looked at them.”
“You snuck into my room?” My head jerks back at the audacity she has. “You were the one to tell him never to speak to me again. ”
“Yeah, I did. I was mad that you didn’t tell me about him.”
“I did.”
“That’s bullshit, and we both know it. You said you met someone and broke up. Nothing else.”
“You kept Liam a secret and away from me for a year.”
“We both kept secrets, Emerson.” Natalie never uses my full first name.
“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to steal him. Do you not think if you hadn’t gone home while we were in Lisbon, you wouldn’t have been the one to fall in love with him?”
“No, I don’t,” she genuinely says.
“Don’t lie. Every boy always chose you, or you found a way to make them choose you.” I start laughing. “I’m such an idiot. It didn’t even matter. You still found a way to make him want you.”
“You’re being unfair. Will you please let me explain,” Natalie begs.
“Think it’s a little too late for that. You should have told me last summer when you met him. It’s done. I can’t do this. I can’t be with him if he wants to be with you. If he couldn’t choose me on his own. If I’m not enough…” I slump onto her couch. I didn’t realize I had gotten up and was pacing her place.
Natalie gets up from the barstool she is sitting in, walks over, and sits beside me. I put my elbows on my knees and place my head in my hands. I’m overwhelmed with emotions, and my anxiety is almost at its peak. I don’t even know what to feel right now.
She reaches out for me.
“Don’t,” I bite out. Natalie recoils her hand.
I stand up. Looking around her living room, I think about this summer, seeing Liam here with her and me curled up on the couch after my engagement ended. Every time we were all together, she knew. She knew and didn’t care about me enough. I was willing to choose her—push down my desires and love for her, but she was never willing to choose me .
Natalie and I have been drifting apart. I think I knew this but didn’t want to admit it. She’s been more reserved since last summer, not talking about guys in front of me, encouraging me to make wedding decisions, and avoiding hanging out. I should have asked. Well, I did. She denied any accusation. I should have stuck to my gut.
“I’m going to leave,” I tell Natalie.
“Are you sure?” she asks.
I head toward her front door. Once I reach it, I open it and take a step so that I’m halfway out. Turning around, I stare back at Natalie and say, “Yeah. I’m also done with you. Please don’t speak to me ever again.”
I close the door behind me.