Chapter 29
TWENTY-NINE
Emily had realized that their idea to have Julia, Winston, and Stormy come over with Patrick was a good one.
She texted Patrick to suggest it and, since it was a workday, asked him not to worry about dinner—maybe they could grill hot dogs or something.
It would be good to see Winston and Julia again before she left, and having them there would ensure that she and Patrick weren’t on their own.
Because if they were left alone, and he had a chance to sway her with those blue eyes of his, she wasn’t sure she’d be strong enough to resist.
Now, only minutes from their arrival, the anticipation of seeing Patrick bubbled up, mixed with the dread of having to return to her life back in Nashville. But when the doorbell chimed, eagerness won over, and Emily was the first to offer to let him in.
“Emily!” Winston wrapped his little arms around her waist as Stormy slipped past them into the house.
“Hi! Sorry, I’ll get the dog.” Julia anxiously rushed in after Stormy. “You can’t run through the mansion…” she called out.
Winston dropped his arms. “I’ll help!” He ran after his mom.
Patrick stood opposite Emily in the doorway. “Hi,” he said with a chuckle, the weight of thoughts behind that single word.
“Hi,” she returned.
A buzz of electricity shot between them.
“I didn’t have hot dogs, so I’m making pizzas. Prosciutto and fig for the grown-ups, and cheese for Winston.”
“Sounds fancy for us, given that we thought we were having hot dogs. We’d have been fine with cheese,” she said.
“I’m trying to impress you with my ability to provide a culinary feast on the fly,” he teased.
“I think you’ve achieved that already.” She ushered him inside.
“You saying I’ve impressed you?”
She nodded playfully, the ache in her heart already forming. The night was just beginning, and she already didn’t want it to end.
“After a day’s work, you didn’t need to do all that,” she said. “How’s the restaurant?”
“It’s good, but busy. I’ve been choosing tile patterns with the crew doing the kitchen and bathrooms, I had three interviews with potential waitstaff, and I had a remote PR meeting that had been postponed due to the storm.
I can’t wait until we open next year so promotion doesn’t fall entirely on my shoulders. It’s not really my thing.”
“It’s tough being so talented.” She winked at him, giving him a chuckle.
When they got to the kitchen, Sienna and Blair were on the floor with Julia and Winston—all of them working to keep Stormy’s attention.
Julia stood up. “We’re going to take Stormy to the beach to run. He loves chasing the waves. Then he’ll be exhausted by the time the pizza’s ready, and we can all eat in peace.”
“We’ll go with you,” Blair suggested, grabbing her phone. Sienna followed them out.
They hadn’t been there five minutes, and Emily had already found herself alone with Patrick.
“Want to help?” he asked.
The memory of the last time she’d helped him floated into her mind. “Sure.” She washed her hands and dried them on a towel. She didn’t want to think about how this would be the last time she’d have an opportunity to be with him like this.
“Could you grab that container?” he asked.
She opened the glass dish to reveal a ball of pizza dough, while Patrick sprinkled the counter with flour.
He reached out to her, and she handed him the wad of dough, gritting her teeth at the ease in which they worked side by side.
Being with him felt more normal than anything she’d felt before.
She couldn’t even remember when she and Will had cooked together—or done anything together for that matter.
A normal night was sitting on the sofa after work until one of them got tired and went home.
And she’d almost married him. Yet she was about to walk away from this person she already felt more of a connection with than she ever had with Will.
Nashville wasn’t an option for him. He had Julia and Winston, and his business was thriving here.
Patrick stretched the dough into a thin, even circle, his hands dusted lightly with flour, then brushed it with a delicate layer of olive oil.
“What’s on your mind?” he asked as he sprinkled mozzarella on top, creating a bed for the toppings.
He layered ribbon-thin slices of prosciutto over it, scattered chunks of goat cheese, and arranged the fresh figs with precision.
“Tomorrow morning,” she answered honestly.
He nodded, not saying anything, but thoughts were evident on his face.
“I have to go back. I have a job in Nashville. And I’m going to need to work to get on my feet again.”
“You sound like you were considering staying,” he said in a hopeful tone.
“I don’t know what I was thinking.” She picked up the laminated measurement-conversion chart with the navy insignia on it. How much had changed since the day she’d tried to decipher it.
“Why don’t you keep that,” he said.
She held up the chart. “This?”
“Yeah. It’s handy.”
And it will remind me of you. “Thank you.”
As the pizzas baked in the wood-fired oven, the scent of toasted bread and tangy cheese filled the kitchen, mingling with the faint sweetness of figs.
Through the window, her friends laughed as they sat at the table outside, the puppy running after a ball that Winston threw onto the sand.
Pretty soon, Emily would have to face reality.
She just wasn’t sure what that reality would look like.
“Tell Emily bye,” Patrick said after dinner, ruffling Winston’s hair. “She and her friends are going home to Nashville tomorrow.” He shut Stormy in the backseat of his idling truck as Julia climbed into the passenger side.
Winston looked up at Emily with big brown eyes. “You’re going home?”
“Yeah, I am,” she said, trying not to let the little boy’s disappointed look pull on her already breaking heart. She might never see him again, and the thought caused a lump in her throat.
“It’s been so wonderful to have you here,” Julia said, leaning out of the truck window. She waved to Blair and Sienna, who were looking on from inside the house.
“Thank you for letting us stay during the storm,” Emily offered.
“Of course. It was no problem at all. Come anytime. Do you have your phone? Let me give you my address.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll give her mine,” Patrick said, that longing in his eyes.
The truck’s window slid up, leaving Emily and Patrick outside. Emily got out her phone, and Patrick typed his address into her contacts. Then he handed it back and looked down at her.
“Well, I guess this is it,” she said, sliding the phone into her pocket.
His fingers found hers. “You going to be okay?” he asked.
“I don’t know yet, honestly. I’m still figuring things out.”
He frowned. “Yeah… So am I.”
She looked up at him, wishing she had an answer.
When he leaned down and gently kissed her lips, everything inside her screamed to throw caution to the wind and stay—even if she had to sleep in a tent while she job hunted. But she couldn’t do that. And just as she’d anticipated, her heart felt as if it were being torn in two.