37. Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Emily
A mir is back at school, and it’s mid-September. Maggie gets married in a month, and it feels like I’m constantly on the phone with Lila about one wedding detail or another. If I ever get married again, I’m going small and low-key.
Except, I can’t see a world in which I do marry again. I’m back to that place—heartbroken and in denial.
Trent collects Amir from Grady and Maggie’s house or from my mom, but we’ve barely spoken. He’s left a giant, gaping hole in my life, and in some ways, it’s worse than when Omar died. Trent has chosen to remove himself, and he’s still out in the world where I catch glimpses of him.
His mom has been keeping me updated on the shop, and it’s rebounded a little since the investigation. The payments Trent was making keep appearing in my bank account each month.
Business is not back where it was before Trent was taken in for questioning, but Penny seems certain that business will keep climbing again.
Word of mouth has started to spread to the surrounding areas about how good Trent and his shop are, and that’s allowed their business to start increasing there.
Maybe some parts of Little Falls will never let the past go, but there are many others who don’t even know that past exists.
I’ve been to the doctor, and I’m due at the end of April. Part of me is still holding out hope that Trent will somehow understand that his past doesn’t have to define him, but the way he’s been behaving makes me think I’m hoping for a miracle rather than something that’s likely.
Although Maggie told me I’d have to fight like hell to keep him, and I was determined to do that, our conversation at the shop made me realize that you can’t convince someone of something they refuse to see.
No amount of begging or inserting myself into his life is going to change his opinions about himself.
The problem isn’t that he doesn’t love me.
If anything, in his mind, he loves me too much.
I’ve just finished signing some closing papers in my real estate office with Donny, who is working part-time for Trent now, and Leah when I get a text from Trent.
I say goodbye to Leah and Donny at the door, and then I go back into my office to stare at the text again.
Can you meet me at the lake?
After weeks of silence, the message doesn’t feel like a crack in the ice, but rather a sudden, massive thaw.
When? I can’t even pretend I won’t go, that I won’t change all my plans for the rest of the day to be there. If he’s reaching out, there has to be a reason, and hope is stirring in me so hard that I can’t stay seated. I’m pacing, waiting for his reply text.
An hour? Or whenever you can make it. Just let me know.
I read each word over and over, probably analyzing what’s behind it far harder than I should. An hour feels like forever from now.
I will meet you there in an hour.
Then I shuffle papers on my desk, scan through real estate pages, and mostly feel the stirrings of worry mixed with anxiety and hope. What could this mean?
When I get to the lake, Trent is already there.
He climbs out of his truck to greet me. His jeans sit low on his hips, and the T-shirt he’s wearing seems to cling to all his muscles.
Seeing him is like being hit in the solar plexus, and the breath is knocked right out of me.
I don’t know when exactly he started having this effect on me, but it’s been so long since I’ve felt it that I have to hold onto my car door for a beat before I step away.
Depending on what he says, I don’t know how I’ll survive this conversation.
“Hey,” he says, his smile sheepish. “Thanks for coming.”
“You thought I wouldn’t?”
He searches my face, and I wonder if my expression looks like his—as though I’m soaking in every detail, comparing it to the last time I saw him.
“It’s really good to see you,” he says.
The truth—that he could have been seeing me this whole time—sits on my tongue, and I have to look away before the bitterness creeps out.
“Are you okay if we rent a boat?”
I frown slightly. I wore another dress, but it’s loose fitting and down to my ankles. I follow him toward the rental near the dock. “As long as it doesn’t tip.”
“It’s not gonna tip, Em.” He gives me another little grin, and my heart constricts.
It would be so, so easy to sink back into how we used to be with each other. But there’s a part of me that’s wary, worried he’s going to smash my heart instead of just causing a spiderweb of cracks.
Oh, god. If he brought me here to tell me he’s dating again, I might vomit. And it won’t be from seasickness.
“Can you give me a little hint about what this is about?” I ask as he pays for the boat and the attendant gets one of the larger ones set up for us.
“I’d rather we were out there so I don’t get cold feet,” he says.
That is not a helpful comment for my peace of mind, and I grip my hands together in front of me. Then I practice my deep breathing, the routine I’ve done with Amir when he’s feeling emotionally overwhelmed.
Trent’s hand lands on the small of my back, and the contact makes me want to rotate into his side, gather him close and never let him go.
But the familiar gesture also settles my anxiety in a way I never would have predicted.
He’s put his hand there so many times for so many reasons.
It’s like my body knows with that single handprint that whatever he’s going to say on the boat won’t break my heart more.
We climb into the boat, and it rocks, but this time neither of us laughs about the motion. Nothing feels funny yet, and I miss that ease.
He rows us out into the middle of the lake and then he clicks the oars into place. He swallows and runs his hands down his face.
The swishing in my stomach returns.
“I, uh, I’m not sure where to start. Which, since I asked you here, probably seems like poor planning.”
“I don’t care where you start, Trent. But I have to be honest, all of this is making me really anxious. Are you—are you dating someone else?”
“Absolutely not,” Trent says with a startled laugh. “Not a chance.”
I release the pent-up breath, and my whole body quiets. Whatever this is, it’s not that. Thank god.
“Some of this is hard for me to say out loud, but my therapist thinks—I think—it’s important you know it all.”
“Therapist?”
“Took your advice—well, your advice and Grady’s. It’s been good for me. You know? I was so in my head in ways that weren’t helpful or maybe even true.”
“Trent, I’m so proud of you,” I whisper.
A hint of a smile almost appears, and he puts his elbows on his knees. “That means a lot, Em, but you don’t even know the half of it.”
“Tell me,” I say. “Whatever you want to tell me, I want to hear it.”
“Not all of it is good.”
“That’s okay.”
“You know about the drug stuff in high school,” he says, “but what I never really told anyone, what I rarely said out loud was that…” He takes a deep breath.
“Part of me was proud of what I accomplished then—even though I got arrested and went to jail, even though what I did hurt people. For a long time, I felt really ashamed of being proud of that. And I guess, what I’ve figured out with Amber’s help—that’s my therapist—is that I wasn’t so much proud of the drug part, but I was proud that I was able to build something.
It was hard for me to pull those two ideas apart, and so I saw my success as something, subconsciously, that I was ashamed of. ”
Some of that makes sense. Trent was good at joking about being good at things, but genuine compliments made him uncomfortable, and he would divert attention to someone or something else.
When he worked for Earl, he’d seemed better at taking people’s kind comments, but maybe that was because he didn’t own the business, wasn’t responsible for everything.
“On top of that, when I moved back to Little Falls, it felt like people were only comfortable with me getting so far beyond what I’d done at nineteen before someone felt the need to remind me that I’d been that guy, and that guy had been a total piece of shit.”
“Oh, Trent.” Tears fill my eyes, and I really wish we weren’t in a rowboat so I could hug him.
“But I’ve had to learn how to separate what I did from who I am. If I let people who don’t know me create my value, then I’m always going to struggle to get beyond that. They know what I did, but not who I am.”
“It’s going to take time—”
“It might,” he agrees. “I also have to be okay if it never happens. If there are people who will always identify me by what I did and not who I am. I have to know and believe in who I am, and I have to have faith that people who do know me, who love me, aren’t bullshitting me when they say I’m a good man. ” His voice cracks.
I knew there was a lot to uncover, a lot going on under the surface, but I’m startled by how deep it goes, how far those roots crept, unseen.
“Honestly, I’m not quite there with all of that. When you believe things about yourself, it takes a long time to reprogram those lines.”
“I can understand that,” I say.
“One of the things I asked if we could focus on in therapy first was…” He takes a deep breath and swallows. “How I feel about you and Amir.”
“Okay,” I say, and his uncertain expression makes tears form.
“What I’ve come to realize is that…” He takes another deep breath, and I can see how hard this is for him, like he’s pulling the words from somewhere deep.
“That two things can be true. That my ex-con past and the repercussions of that can make your life and Amir’s more difficult, but that it’s still possible for me to add value to your lives too.
That I don’t have to…my mistakes don’t have to be worth more than my successes. ”
“I love you,” I say, and I risk the wobble to get on my knees. The metal of the boat is cold, but I can’t stand being away from him anymore. Once I’m between his knees, I wrap my arms around his middle, and he brushes my hair away from my face.
“I love you too. So much. But I didn’t want to come back into your life if I didn’t think I could be what you need.”
In this moment, I could tell him he is exactly what I need, but I also understand he had to believe it too.
“I’ve been so afraid to go after what I wanted because of what I did and how I did it the first time.”
“What do you want?”
“You, this baby, your son. The shop. I want the life we had in your house before Dan set off a bomb in my life and blew up the stability I thought I’d found.”
“I want all of that too,” I say. “So much.” I close my eyes as tears slip down my cheeks.
He kisses them away and draws me into his chest, his chin resting on the top of my head. “I don’t have it all figured out yet, Em, but I didn’t want to miss any more time with you, with our baby, with Amir. No matter what, I’m not walking out on you again, if you’ll let me come back.”
“No matter what?” My voice is thick with tears.
“I know I hurt you,” he says, and his voice now has the same thickness as mine.
“I get that now—that leaving didn’t save you, maybe created more harm than if I’d stayed.
And I’m so sorry, Em.” His voice cracks, and he holds me tighter.
“I love you with my whole fucking heart, and I’ve never felt this way about any woman, ever.
But I didn’t think I deserved it, and I thought you deserved more than what I could give. ”
“You’re exactly who I want,” I say, drawing back to frame his face. “I love every part of you, even the part that smells like motor oil.”
He lets out a watery chuckle. “I’m committed to being the best version of myself for you, if you’ll have me.”
“I haven’t met Amber, but she’s my favorite person, ever.”
“Funny you should say that,” Trent says, wiping his eyes. “She suggested we might want some sessions together.”
“I’d be honored to go with you. Truly.” I stare up at him, and gratitude and love rush through me.
Part of me wasn’t sure we’d ever get this moment, that he’d ever be willing to see himself in the light I see him.
To know he’s on that road, that he’s committed to feeling better, is huge.
“I didn’t go when Omar died, and maybe I should have.
If we’re having a baby, we should definitely make sure that our foundation together is rock solid. Unshakeable.”
He rests his forehead against mine, and his hands slide into my hair.
“Have I told you how much I love you? It’s possible I might have to say it to you a hundred times a day.
Now that I’ve named this feeling, it’s like…
” He presses his lips to my forehead. “Every time I look at you, it’s all I can think. I love you. I love you. I love you .”
I breathe him in a for a beat, and then I say, “Why did you have to pick a boat for all this?”
“I knew if I had you out here, that I’d have no choice but to be honest.”
“Can you come down here?” I ask, sliding back a little to give him room to sit on the bottom of the boat too. Thankfully, it’s dry.
He scooches down, and I hitch up my dress to straddle him. His hands grip my hips, and we stare at each other for a beat.
“I missed you,” he whispers. “I wish I’d gotten my head together two years ago when we first met, so I was ready for you.”
“We went on the journey we were meant to,” I say, planting a soft kiss on his lips. “Who knows what would have happened if we’d been different people when we started hanging out? You could play the ‘what if’ or ‘if only’ game forever.” I rock against him, and his eyes snap to mine.
“Here?”
“You’re not going to get me all wet, are you?” I ask, kissing him again.
“I sure hope so,” he says, and he laughs against my ear before kissing a line down my throat. “Peaches. I could eat you all fucking day.”
“That sounds like a promise,” I murmur, arching into him.
In no time, things get even more heated between us, a familiar rhythm we both remember and understand. Before wiggling out of my panties, I glance around the lake, but there’s no one else out here today.
Trent releases himself, and he guides me down, my dress billowing around us. We both groan with relief as we connect, and Trent frames my face, kissing me gently as I start to move.
“You know when you said in my shop that I healed your heart?” he says, his voice rough with emotion.
“I meant it,” I say.
“You healed mine too in a way I didn’t even know I needed.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
And then we’re moving together, seeking connection and release, a dance I’m sure we’ll be doing for the rest of our lives.