Chapter 29 #2
“Oh, he was. He loved being held. Hated being put down for even a minute the first couple months. If you put him down, he’d scream.
And scream. And scream some more even when you picked him up, like he needed to tell you how terrible it was to not be held before he could settle down.
But he wasn’t too picky about who held him.
Unless it was Decker. If Decker held him, we had to play pop music or Bash would scream some more. ”
“That must’ve made nights hard.”
She shakes her head. “No, it—it’s what I wanted. He’s what I wanted. When my mom died, I lost this security that I took for granted. My dad’s great, but he’s not…he’s not my mom.”
“When did she pass?”
“I was eleven.”
“Ah, Emma. I’m sorry.”
“I had Laney and Sabrina. And Theo did so much more than most people would give him credit for, even though he wasn’t that much older than me.
And he had his own needs that weren’t being met.
Not that he’d admit it. But I knew. I tried my best to be what he needed too. We were in it together, you know?”
I nod like I can put myself in her shoes, but playing the part of someone who lost a parent young once or twice isn’t the same as living it day in and day out.
“Since then,” she continues, “I’ve always wanted— needed , maybe?—to have that dream family. To recreate what I’d missed in my own life. The family that I felt like I had stolen from me, even though I still had Dad and Theo. It’s just…they weren’t Mom. She was special. She was everything .”
“You have a lot of her in you?”
There’s that soft smile again. “I like to think so.”
“I didn’t know your mom, but I’ve never met a mother who wouldn’t be proud of you.”
“She always told me I could be anything I wanted to be. And I’m mostly living the life I always wanted.
Bash was— is —my family. And it was hard, but I also knew he was getting bigger every single day.
That no matter how tired I was, I didn’t want to miss a second.
That he’d be my only baby, ever, and one day I’d sleep again.
But I wouldn’t get another chance to be the mom to him that I had taken from me. And he’s worth it. He’s so worth it.”
I swallow hard.
I’ve lost sleep for roles. For appearances. For my social life. Occasionally for heartbreak.
But never for taking care of another human being.
Not like this.
“And I didn’t do it all on my own,” she adds. “My friends wouldn’t let me. They made sure I rested and ate enough and sometimes showered. I wasn’t alone, and I wasn’t too exhausted to enjoy him.”
I clear my throat again, but my voice is still husky. “Good.”
I missed so much.
So much.
She sucks in a soft breath and puts a hand on my arm, leaning into me. “Jonas, look,” she whispers.
A mama deer and two spotted babies have just stepped into the clearing of her yard from the pine forest. Both fawns stare at the chickens while they hover behind the mama, who puts her head down, munching on the wild grass.
“Aren’t they cute?” Emma whispers.
All I can do is nod.
I’m too hung up in the scent of baby shampoo and a hint of mint tickling my nose. The feel of Emma’s hand on my arm. The effort of suppressing the electric shiver overtaking my skin at her touch. The heat radiating off her body.
Watching the enamored smile light up her face while she watches the animals.
I know she’s lived here her entire life. This isn’t the first time she’s seen baby animals.
But she’s soaking it in like there’s nothing she wants more than the simple pleasures in life. Like she’s honored that they’ve chosen her yard to visit.
Every other time I’ve wanted to impress a woman, I’ve brought exotic flowers. Had chocolates flown in fresh from Paris. There were shopping trips. Private vacations to faraway locations. Backstage passes to just about anything.
Emma doesn’t want any of that.
She didn’t in Fiji. She doesn’t here.
If I want to be part of her life, I can’t rely on buying her things or taking her places.
I have to be enough all by myself.
Just as I am.
Without the fame and the bank account.
That is what she sparked in Fiji. That realization that I’ve never had to get to know myself . Who I am when I’m not Jonas Rutherford .
She makes me want to be more .
She inspired my risks on bigger roles, but that’s not what I’m most proud of from the past two years.
I’m most proud of my podcast.
Of finding fascinating people around the country to interview about their journey to discovering who they are and what mark they’re supposed to leave on the world.
Their obstacles. Their advantages. Who they were as kids and who they choose to be as adults.
What makes them tick.
I like to think it’s inspiring people all over the globe to reach deep and embrace their biggest dreams despite their biggest fears.
That it’s helping them realize it’s okay to contemplate the question of who am I when it’s just me?
That this is my way of improving the world.
By encouraging the people on the planet to be a little more.
The way she encouraged me to be more.
“Oh, they’re so little, they’re still nursing,” she whispers.
I’m not watching the deer.
I’m watching the absolute joy and rapture on her face.
Wondering if I can ever be the reason she glows like that.
I want that to be my purpose in life.
Making Emma happy. Being a person who makes every day better for her. Being what she wants .
I know she doesn’t need me.
She doesn’t need my money. My connections. My fame. My family.
She already has dreams and goals and a purpose. Happiness and joy and laughter and support.
So I have to be enough, just me , if I’m going to fit into her life.
“Isn’t it fascinating?” She looks at me, that smile shining brighter than anything Hollywood can produce.
“I mean it,” I say thickly. “I’m leaving the public spotlight.”
Her lashes flutter and her smile morphs into an O .
“I want to be here . With you and Bash.”
“For how long?” Her voice is barely above a whisper, and I hate that I don’t know if that’s longing or fear laced into her words.
Maybe it’s both.
But she’s still gripping my forearm.
Still leaning close enough for me to study the fascinating ring of gold around her brown irises.
“Forever,” I whisper back.
“Jonas—”
“Please let me stay. Let me in. Let me try to be what you both deserve.”
We had something in Fiji.
We have something here. I don’t know if I believe in fate. If I believe in soulmates. If I believe that there’s one person out there, and only one person, whose life I’m meant to share.
But I know that I’ve never been in a relationship with anyone who feels as much like everything I’ve been missing in my life as I’ve felt in the times I’ve been with Emma.
She squeezes my arm. “This is a massive, life-altering decision.”
“And it feels right . I don’t know if I’ve ever felt anything this right.”
Wariness creeps into her eyes.
I cover her hand with mine. “I can keep you out of the spotlight. Both of you. You don’t have to hide. You don’t have to move. I won’t let them attack you again.”
Her chin quivers. “I am so mad at you right now,” she whispers.
“Why?”
“Because you make me want to do this .”
Before I can ask what this is, she’s kissing me. Brushing those soft lips over mine while everything inside me stills. All of the parts of me that have been on alert, watching, worrying, waiting for some sign that she was done with me and this chance was over—all of me melts into kissing her back.
My friend. My addiction. The mother of my child.
So fragile, but so strong.
Completely irresistible.
Fuck , I’ve missed her.
Her fingers curling into my hair. Her nose bumping mine. Goosebumps pebbling on the smooth skin on her arms.
Her lips.
Her mouth.
Kissing her takes me back to the hillside in Fiji. The clearing in the jungle. Laughing on a picnic blanket. Grabbing her hand while we were snorkeling to point out a colorful fish.
Making love with her.
I have missed this woman so much more than I let myself feel the past two and a half years.
But now she’s kissing me, and nothing has ever felt more right.
Or more worth it.
The back door bangs open, and we leap apart.
“Forgot my jacket,” Zen says, striding to the swing out by the chicken coop. “Don’t let me interrupt. Unless you have nefarious intentions, and then I don’t care how much of a pacifist I am, I’ll take you down.”
“Zen-zen?” Bash says from above us.
Zen snags their coat from the swing and smirks at me before looking at Emma. “Mind if I tell the little guy goodnight one more time?”
Emma’s smoothing her hair back. “Do not wind him up.”
“Please. Who do you think I am, Theo? Text me when you’re free for lunch next week. We need to finish planning the baby shower. Later, Jonas. Don’t do anything that’ll make me have to hurt you.”
“Good to see you too,” I reply.
“I need to go tuck Bash back in,” Emma stutters. She’s still holding the chicken. I was kissing her while she was holding her chicken. “Thank you for—for staying. But you should probably head home now.”
“Can I take you to lunch sometime soon too? Or dinner. Or breakfast. Or coffee or tea or for a hike or whatever you want to do?” I’m a teenager. I am once again a rambling, bumbling, awkward teenager.
Except I think teenagers have more swagger than I do.
And I definitely had more swagger when I was a teenager than I do in this moment.
She smiles, sucks it in, then smiles again. “I—you don’t have to—yes. Yes. Thank you. I—I’d like that.”
I’m itching to hug her again. To kiss her. To toss her over my shoulder, carry her up to her bedroom, strip her naked, and lick her all over.
But tonight, I’m settling for sticking my hands in my pockets. “Can I come back tomorrow?”
She nods.
I smile. “Can’t wait.”
I truly can’t.