12. Chapter 12
Chapter 12
Jonathan
I t takes me all day to tackle the situation at work, and even then, I can’t do much to help from here. I know I have to fly back to town tomorrow, but I feel bad for having to cut Emma’s vacation short. Despite the circumstances, she’s enjoying the little island we’ve found ourselves on.
It’s the morning of the next day when I finally return to our hotel room, where I find Emma sleeping on the couch. Her head is balanced against a small pillow, and it seems like she nodded off while waiting for me. My heart clenches at the sight of her curled up on the couch, her face peaceful yet exhausted. Guilt creeps in—I should have been here earlier.
I quickly find a blanket and cover her with it before hitting the shower. My head throbs, my eyes burn, and every muscle in my body feels like it’s been through a marathon. I stayed up all night tackling a problem that’s come up in my absence, and I haven’t gotten any closer to a solution. I feel my shoulders sagging like I have the weight of the world on me, and it’s a horrible feeling.
I finish showering and step outside to find Emma yawning and getting up from the couch.
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” I say, smiling.
Emma frowns at me, rubbing her eyes as she shifts upright. “When did you get back?”
“Just a few minutes ago. I see you’ve been keeping my couch warm for me,” I joke, chuckling a little.
Emma doesn’t find it funny. “You’ve been awake all night? Jonathan, that’s not healthy.”
I shrug. This isn’t the first time I’ve pulled an all-nighter for work. “I’m afraid this is what I have to deal with, and it’s not even the worst of it.”
I sigh, my eyelids growing a bit heavy, which Emma notices immediately.
“You need some coffee, and then some sleep,” Emma declares.
“Sleep after coffee?” I muse, and she nods.
“I’ve seen how you drown yourself in coffee, and it barely affects you. I read somewhere once that for people like you, drinking coffee and then napping for a few hours will do wonders for you,” Emma says, grinning proudly. “It’ll make you more energized, like a literal power nap.”
I exhale sharply. “The last thing I need is a nap. We need to start getting ready to leave, or the phone will never stop ringing.”
Emma frowns. “What do you mean, we’re leaving?”
I hate the look on her face as much as I hate the fact that she’s looking at me with sadness and hope that I’ll say we can stay just a little longer. But I can’t afford to spend another day away from Grover Hill.
“Yes. I’m so sorry this is coming to an end,” I say, truly meaning it. “We can come back together some other time, or maybe we’ll go to Bora Bora for real…” I trail off, and even I can feel the implication of my words, the hope that we’ll somehow extend this temporary arrangement.
Emma grips my arm lightly. “But can we take the day off? Just today? We can be on our way home tomorrow.” Her voice drops slightly, a quiet plea beneath her words. “One more day surely won’t hurt.”
I stop to ponder it, and she’s right. With my already sleep-deprived brain and the exhaustion weighing down on me, I’d probably be doing more harm than good.
I nod. “Fine. I’ll let them know I won’t be coming in today.”
“And you’ll be switching off your phone so you don’t get disturbed?” Emma says sternly.
“And I’ll be switching off my phone,” I promise, liking the slightly bossy side of her that I’m getting to see.
Emma nods, seemingly satisfied, and calls room service for us. She orders a lot of coffee and breakfast food. I hadn’t realized it’s been over twenty-four hours since my last meal, and I’m starving. I appreciate that she’s taking charge and ordering us food, because my brain can’t function properly at the moment. All I can think about is work.
“So,” I say, trying to keep my own thoughts from disturbing me. “What did you do while I was gone, besides sleep on my couch?”
Emma wrinkles her nose. “Never again will I sleep on a couch. It felt like sleeping on a slab of concrete. And I fell asleep there waiting for you because I couldn’t get you to answer your phone and I was worried.”
“You were worried about me?” I ask softly, feeling my heart beginning to race.
Emma shrugs. “I don’t know anyone on this island, so it’s natural for me to be worried. But before that I did get some writing done. And in my book, the male protagonist leaves and disappears…just like you.”
I stare at her. “You scare me. I sure hope these stories of yours don’t become our reality.”
Emma laughs. “Oh, don’t be a wuss. That would be an incredible power to have—being able to make your imagination reality.”
I agree, nodding. “I’m glad this little arrangement of ours is working for you. You’re writing and I’m getting my company.”
“Let’s hope my writing is actually good,” Emma says. The dread and doubt are back in her voice, and I don’t like that one bit.
I clear my throat. “As your unofficial editor and writing adviser, I would like to read what you’ve written so far.”
Emma smiles, then hesitates. “Are you sure? You’re tired, and there’s your work thing, and I don’t know if you can handle all of this at once.”
“Oh, believe me when I say I need this. It’ll be the perfect distraction from the chaos at work,” I say honestly.
Emma sighs, hearing the sincerity in my voice. She hesitates for a moment, biting her lip, then retrieves her laptop from where it’s charging. She turns the screen around for me and opens her first draft.
“You can’t read all of it though,” Emma warns. “Some of it is good, but there are some areas I know are absolute garbage. Remember this is just the first draft, and things may not make sense or—”
I laugh, cutting her rambling off. “It’s fine, Emma. This isn’t exactly the first time I’m reading your work. I know how first drafts work.”
Then there’s a knock on the door and Emma lets in the breakfast tray, reminding me once more how hungry I am. We immediately dive into the food, and only after my stomach feels full do I start to read Emma’s work.
I grab my coffee and recline against the sofa. Emma sits very close to me. There’s eagerness in her eyes as she closely watches me read her work, looking for any emotion to indicate what I feel about the story. But I mask my face so well that it doesn’t betray any emotion.
“Are you bored? You look bored. Please tell me you like it.” Emma bites her cheek, nervous. “Oh, I can’t stand this. I’m going to leave…I’ll go for a quick walk around the grounds, and then I’ll be back.”
I laugh as she darts out of the room, eyes wide and terrified.
“Stay safe!” I call out. “I’m leaving my phone on for you.”
“I’ll call the hotel if I need anything,” Emma calls back, and she’s out.
To her credit, Emma’s work is amazing. Her dialogue flows effortlessly, her characters feel real, and the tension in her plot keeps me hooked. One scene in particular—a quiet moment between her protagonists, filled with unspoken emotions—stays with me long after I’ve read it. It’s the best she’s ever written, and I can see the improvement in her storytelling by the way the scenes just seem to blend into each other. It feels almost sinful to catch a glimpse of this writing before it’s a published book.
I make barely any corrections or criticism. It’s truly nearly flawless, and I feel my head expanding with questions, wondering what will happen next and how the mystery will unfold. She has me hooked already, and I think of multiple theories for how the story will continue.
Emma walks in, beaming, a flyer in her hand that she waves in my direction. She’s bursting with energy from her walk, and I can tell how in tune with nature she is. I hope she doesn’t forget to get her daily sunlight at home, with how she always seems busy with work these days.
“Jonathan, you have to see this!” Emma rushes over with the flyer. All I can tell at first is how colorful it is.
“Don’t you want to know what I think of your story first?” I ask, finding it amusing that she seems more excited about a piece of paper than what I think of her work.
“No—I mean, yes. But I don’t want to hear it now,” she declares. “Look at the flyer, Jonathan! It’s for a fair.”
I do look, and she’s right. The colorful words say it themselves. It advertises themed rides, food, and carnival games.
“Oh, you don’t understand, I found this flyer lying on the ground,” Emma rambles on. “I picked it up, and lo and behold, the date for the fair is today.”
“It’s for today?” I repeat with a frown as I begin to see where this is going.
Emma nods. “Just this evening. Of course, there’s still plenty of time for you to take that power nap of yours, and then we can visit! It’ll be the perfect ending to this vacation of ours.”
She doesn’t call it a honeymoon, but she’s right—this does feel more like a vacation than anything else.
“Did you ask the locals about this? Because I’ve never heard of it, and even the front desk didn’t mention it.” I’m concerned, or maybe a little bit paranoid. I’ve watched enough movies about carnivals and fun fairs to know that’s where creepy stuff happens.
Emma rolls her eyes. “Oh, it’ll be fine, and I did ask Andy at the front desk about it. She mentioned going there with her fiancé later on, so I asked if we could tag along.”
“Yay, more people,” I grumble, but she ignores me.
“Anyway, I figured since they have a better lay of the land, it’ll reduce the chances of us getting lost. Plus, the fair is an annual thing, so they can walk us through the best rides and what food to eat and ignore. Going with her means we’ll be able to get the most out of it,” Emma says wistfully. “Please, let’s go. It’s only for a few hours, and we’re leaving tomorrow anyway.”
I groan dramatically, rubbing a hand down my face. “You’re really not going to let this go, are you?” And I can’t say no to those eyes, no matter how much I want to.
Besides, it does sound like fun to go to the fair. Just a little more fun before I get back to work won’t hurt.
I give her a winning smile and say, “What time is this fair of yours?”