15. Isaac
CHAPTER 15
ISAAC
I t turns out that the whole city isn’t blacked out. Just some areas are out of power, which is good news for us. It takes a little calling around, but I eventually find an Indian restaurant that will deliver to my building.
“Is there anything I can do?” Emily asks as I hang up the phone.
“No. Make yourself comfortable. You’re my guest.”
She’s more than that. She’s my date.
I did it; I finally said what I wanted. I made my move, and she didn’t leave the apartment or tell me I was being unprofessional. I’m still worried that this new territory will get us into trouble somehow, but I’m doing my best to be positive.
And, since my father died, it’s surprisingly easy.
“I’m sorry I used the word date ,” I say, before I can decide whether it’s a good idea to bring it up or not. “There’s no pressure, really. I’m interested in you. I am. And I understand if the feeling isn’t mutual, and there’s no pressure. I don’t want to ruin our working relationship, so even if you feel differently, we can still go about things as usual. You’re the best trainer?—”
“I feel the same.”
The words, exactly what I wanted to hear and yet shocking all the same, take the wind out of me. For a long moment, I just stare at Emily, the candles casting dancing shapes across her face.
“Oh,” is all I can seem to manage.
She bites her lip and looks down at the floor, sheepish. “I want to be here tonight. With you… with Baxter. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
Her words heat me up from the inside out, a bubbling ball of lava that could melt ice. The moment is so perfect, I don’t even want to respond. Why end something so pristine?
But then Baxter whines and paws at my leg.
“He has to go out.” I try not to sigh in disappointment. It’s not the dog’s fault that he has to pee right now. “Be right back.”
I clip Baxter’s leash on and take him down the stairs and to the green space alongside the building. He quickly pees then goes about sniffing. I let him have a couple more minutes before whistling him back.
To my surprise, he comes right away. It used to be I’d have to go over to him and clip his leash back on.
“Good boy.” I rub his head excitedly, loving how much Emily’s positive influence is impacting our lives. If only my dad could see me now.
Back upstairs, I’m shocked to find a flannel blanket from the closet spread across the living-room floor, candles arranged around its perimeter. Emily has been busy.
“I hope that’s okay,” she says. “I thought it might be fun?—”
“It’s perfect,” I respond, hoping she can tell that I’m not blowing smoke.
The doorbell rings, breaking the moment. “Wow,” I comment, going to the buzzer. “That was fast.”
The delivery person comes right up to the front door, the bag of food still hot and steaming. After tipping him, I head into the living room, thinking I’ll put the food down then grab some plates, but once again Emily is one step ahead of me. She has plates, forks, and napkins set on the blanket, as well as two glasses of water.
“You move fast,” I comment.
She shrugs in an adorable way. “I just wanted to be helpful.”
“You’re more than helpful,” I say, wanting to tell her just how much she already means to me but holding back.
We take our seats, surrounded by dancing lights and the hum of an imperfect city, finding perfection in the simplicity of a delivery dinner on a blanket. It’s nothing like the galas and networking events I’m often at, but it feels truer, somehow. Real.
Baxter lies on the floor, watching as we eat, conversation ebbing and flowing naturally. There’s laughter, too. It’s the sound of walls coming down, of distances closing.
It’s been so long since I let myself get close to someone like this. It’s been… since never.
“Isaac?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you,” she says, her gaze holding mine.
“Anytime, Em.” And I mean it — every single word.
The candles burn lower, wax pooling at their bases. I want to freeze tonight, keep it safe in the hollow of my chest. At least I can comfort myself with the possibility that this might not be our last evening together. If I don’t find a way to blow tonight, hopefully this will be the first date of many.
Baxter inches closer to the blanket, giving us his best puppy-dog eyes.
I slap my forehead. “It’s his dinnertime. Sorry, one second.”
I scramble to my feet, retrieving Baxter’s food from the kitchen. The pup follows closely, wagging his tail excitedly. Emily merely watches, a soft smile dancing on her lips. Home never felt this warm before, and even though I know she has to leave eventually, I really wish she wouldn’t.
As I feed Baxter, Emily tidies up our impromptu dining spot, stacking plates and collecting the leftover cartons. Her actions are gentle, her movements clean and assertive. I jump in, folding the blanket and grabbing the broom from the closet.
“No need to clean everything right now,” she says, a small smile playing on her lips. Her eyes shine even under the dim light.
I chuckle. “You sound like my mom.”
“Your mom was pretty chill?”
“The most.” I pause. Think about it. “In a good way.”
She leans against the kitchen counter. It’s darker in here, with fewer candles, and that makes it feel more intimate. “Were you close?”
“Up until she passed, yeah. What about…” I trail off.
She shakes her head. “I haven’t really talked to my parents in years.”
“That’s right.” I want to kick myself for not remembering. She already told me she’s not close with her parents — but she didn’t tell me why.
“They’re both alcoholics,” she supplies, much to my surprise. “They were more interested in themselves than raising me, so…” She rakes her fingers through her loose hair.
“I’m sorry,” I breathe.
“It’s okay, but thank you. I appreciate it.”
“What about siblings?” I ask, changing the subject from her parents.
She shakes her head. “Only child, much to my dismay.”
“I get it,” I say, quietly reminiscing my childhood years without a sibling. “Growing up, I wished for a younger brother.”
Emily laughs softly, the corners of her eyes crinkling beautifully. “Did you?”
“Yeah,” I retort with a smirk playing on my lips. “Someone to take the blame and do all my chores.”
She throws me an amused look. “You’re terrible!”
Our laughter reverberates in the half-lit room and sends Baxter into a frenzy of barking.
“Seriously, though.” I wipe down the counter, merely looking for something to do with my nervous energy. “I hate that you had to grow up that way, but I hope you don’t mind my saying that you seem wonderfully well-adjusted.”
She blinks slowly, absorbing my words. A soft sigh escapes her lips before she responds, fingers tracing patterns on the marble counter. “You’d be surprised what someone can adjust to, when it’s all they’ve ever known.”
There’s a depth of sadness in her eyes that steals away my breath. The moment stretches out, heavy and somber. I wish to lift it, but don’t know how.
“I wish things were different for you,” I say sincerely.
Emily smiles, and there’s a strange warmth in it. “They are. They’re very different now.”
I raise an eyebrow, curiosity digging into my heart. “Oh?”
“Yeah,” she says, her fingers absentmindedly reaching out to pet Baxter, who has settled at our feet. “Then, I didn’t really have much to look forward to. Now I do. Things are going really well. In big part thanks to you.”
My chest swells at her words. I open my mouth to respond, but words evade me. I simply look at her, her hands wandering on Baxter’s fur, the dim light painting ethereal shadows on her face. I’ve known loss, experienced it in a way that forever altered the course of my life, but Emily’s resilience is something of an enigma.
“You’re strong, Emily,” I hesitantly say. She stops petting Baxter and looks up at me, eyes reflecting the half-light of the room.
“Not really,” she shrugs, an odd smile playing on her lips.
I shake my head adamantly. “No, you are.”
She holds my gaze, and for a moment I think she might step forward and kiss me — until she abruptly looks away. “Anyway, dogs have helped me a lot. They’re easier than humans. Easier to read. So giving in their love. Forgiving.”
“Hmm.” I look at my dog, the one I never asked for but that I’ve come to accept. Emily’s perspective is one I never considered.
Ever since my dad got Baxter, I’ve mostly seen him as a pain in the butt. Thanks to Emily, he’s changed into another creature entirely. Hell, I think I might even love the dog.
“Would you like—” Before I can finish with a drink , the lights flicker on.
The blackout is over.
Unfortunately.
I was really enjoying the cozy intimacy of it all, the bubble we had been in. Baxter’s tail thumps on the wooden floor, breaking the silence after the emergence of light. Emily shifts, looking awkward, like she’s been caught revealing too much about herself.
“I guess I should head home,” she says with a small sigh.
As she speaks, I can’t help but feel a tug in my heart. It’s selfish — I know it is, but I want more time with her. I want the lights to flicker back off. I crave the intimacy we’d been sharing, conversations shrouded in shadows giving way to soul-baring honesty.
“Yeah, of course,” I reply with a forced nonchalance, afraid my voice might betray the yearning gnawing at my insides.
Emily shoulders her bag and gives Baxter one last pat. The dog whines, wagging his tail and nudging her hand for more attention. She laughs softly, a sound that makes my heart skip a beat.
“Good night, Baxter,” she murmurs.
“And good night, Isaac,” she says to me, her tone lower — making it feel like a secret.
“Good night, Emily,” I breathe.
Her eyes flit to mine for one more lingering moment before she turns towards the door. The latch clicks behind her, and Baxter whimpers, missing her already.
“I know, boy,” I tell him. “I know exactly how you feel.”