Chapter 30
THIRTY
Emily’s mind was still reeling with indecision while she packed her things and tidied her bedroom the next morning.
In so many ways, she, Sienna, and Blair had healed there, and as they loaded Sienna’s car and locked up the house, The Broken Hearts Beach Club was quietly dissolving.
The bond she had with her friends was stronger than it had ever been, and she realized how much she still had to learn about herself.
Sienna started the engine, and they made their way down the drive. From the backseat, Emily took one final look at the pristine beach and the mansion. Then, they pulled away and headed for home.
They drove through town and passed The Low Tide Supper Club.
Patrick’s truck was parallel parked out front.
She sucked in a breath, ready to ask Sienna to stop for a second so she could say goodbye once more, but the lump that formed in her throat changed her mind.
The light turned green, and they carried on.
But Sienna’s glance at her in the rearview mirror gave away that the thought had crossed her mind as well.
Many businesses were still working around the clock to rebuild. The area was taking shape again—just like Emily’s life would. She just had to pick up the pieces. And now was the time to do that.
The rest of the drive home, when service kicked in between rural areas, Blair worked her social media, posting and responding to comments, still putting old rumors to rest and beginning a new chapter in her online story.
Sienna was headed back to finish a deal she’d started when they’d first arrived at the beach.
And Emily was about to face the rest of her life—whatever that might be.
When Sienna pulled up to Emily’s apartment, she got out with her and helped her get her suitcase, bags, and cooler out of the trunk.
“It was a blast,” Emily said. “Thanks for letting us come.”
“Of course.” Sienna gave her a squeeze. “Maybe we can do it again next year.”
“Yeah.”
What would their next trip look like? Sienna would probably have a newborn, Blair would be super busy with social media again, and Emily? Where would she be in a year?
Blair hung out the window. “Need any help getting your bags upstairs?”
“I’m good.” Emily slung one bag over her shoulder and picked up the cooler by its handle.
“I’ll call you to schedule next week at The Brewing Bloom.” Blair blew Emily a kiss.
“See you next week,” Emily said.
Sienna put a hand on each of Emily’s shoulders. “Call me if you need me.”
“Okay.”
Sienna got back into her car, and they drove away.
Emily rolled her suitcase to the door, keyed in her code, and let herself inside.
She took the elevator to her floor. When she got inside her apartment, she clicked on the lights and set down her bags.
The space looked different than it had when she’d left—smaller, less like her.
Her things were there, but it was as if she didn’t fit them quite right anymore.
She took her suitcase to her bedroom, lay it on its side, and unzipped it.
Slowly, she began sorting her dirty laundry from clean, putting clothes into the washer and appropriate drawers and hanging some up in the closet.
She reorganized her makeup and tucked it away in the bathroom.
All her shoes and extras were returned to their normal spots.
In the bottom of the suitcase was the navy measuring card Patrick had given her.
She plucked it out and stared at it, those ever-present emotions lurking just under the surface.
She’d packed the laminated card in her luggage, purposely putting it in the trunk of the car because when she looked at it, tears welled up.
She tried to convince herself how silly it was to feel so strongly about someone she’d only just met, but no amount of rationalization could stop the deluge of emotion.
When it came down to it, getting to know Patrick had been effortless; she felt an ease with him that she hadn’t felt with anyone else.
She pulled out her cell phone to see if he’d texted, but she had no new messages.
He was probably busy with the restaurant.
She’d give herself a month or so. Surely, the spell would end, and she could move forward with her life.
Emily took the card to her desk, where she still had a stack of returned RSVP cards for her wedding.
Flipping through each one, the guest numbers flashed before her like an old movie, reminding her of how many people she’d have to call.
She’d originally left the stack on her desk because she’d been too emotional to look through them, but now, she felt relief.
All these people might have witnessed her marrying someone who, in the end, hadn’t been right for her. She’d dodged a bullet.