Chapter 10
“Have you ever read Pride and Prejudice?” I ask Wren, who’s stretched out on our shared blanket in the grassy patch by the park.
It’s early Tuesday afternoon, and the sun feels like it’s melting my skin from the inside out.
Nearby, I catch a glimpse of Milo darting after a butterfly by the monkey bars.
“What?” she questions, sliding her sunglasses down to see the tattered book in my lap. “You’re reading a book?”
“Don’t act so surprised,” I defend. “Henry lent it to me, and I feel like I have to at least attempt to read it.”
“Oh, Henry lent it to you, huh?” Wren sneers while pushing herself up from her horizontal position. “You know, sometimes people lend you books because they think there’s something in there you need to see.”
I raise an eyebrow, letting Wren’s observation sink in. It was obviously ridiculous. “Oh, please. It’s just a book. He’s a professor, remember? It’s his job to educate people.”
“Uh-huh. Maybe he thinks you’re just as lovesick as Mr. Darcy was.”
I laugh it off, but her comment sticks in the back of my mind. “Or maybe he wants me to suffer. All of this old English is rough and it’s unbearably slow. I fell asleep reading it last night.”
“Oh! I’ve got it,” she exclaims, completely ignoring what I said. “Maybe he sees something in you that reminds him of Elizabeth Bennet. She’s strong-willed, won’t put up with any bullshit, and has a thing for difficult men.”
“Henry isn’t difficult,” I say, hoping Wren won’t see the blush creeping up my neck.
“Okay, fine,” she agrees, tilting her head toward the sun. “What about mysterious? It doesn’t seem like you know a lot about him.”
I lean back on my hands and the corner of my mouth tilts up when a small shadow approaches us. “Mama.”
“Yes, Mi?”
“Juice,” he says, pointing to the small cooler I brought with us.
I reach over and grab one but pause to ask, “What do you say?” before handing it to him.
“Pwease,” he says. I was going to miss that little quirk when his w’s turned into proper l’s. I was already mourning his childhood, and we were just getting started.
I hand it over to him, and he replies with a quiet thank you before sitting down to enjoy his juice. He’s still for approximately two seconds before bolting off after some new insect.
“Where were we?” I question, thinking for a moment. When it clicks, I continue my thought. “I actually feel like Henry has been way more open with me about his life. If anyone is being mysterious, it’s me.” I hated talking about myself.
“Ah ha!” she practically yells. “So, you’re Mr. Darcy and Henry is Elizabeth. It all makes perfect sense.”
Like a reflex, I roll my eyes at Wren’s enthusiasm while trying to stifle a laugh. “Hardly. I’m sure Mr. Darcy is just proud, not private.”
Wren sighs and takes one of Mi’s juice boxes out of the cooler. She better hope there’s another one in there. The only thing worse than a tired Milo is when he doesn’t get his juice fix after a hard afternoon of playing.
“Darcy is prideful, sure, but he’s also guarded. He only opens up to people he really trusts. And even then, it takes him forever to feel comfortable with someone new.” She takes a sip of the juice box while giving me a pointed look. “Sound like anyone you know?”
I tilt my face in the other direction, considering her statement. She’s right—I am guarded but with good reason. My trust issues trace all the way back to my childhood.
“You’re right,” I relent, picking at the frayed edges of the book. “I do have a difficult time letting people in.”
“Did you just say I was right?” Wren exclaims, slapping her hand against her chest. “I didn’t think I’d ever see the day.”
“Stop being so dramatic.” I laugh, swatting at her arm.
Wren’s face twists into a grin, leaning back on her hands. “So, let’s recap here. If you’re the dark and mysterious Mr. Darcy and Henry is the cunning and charming Elizabeth Bennet, then that means you’re secretly in love with him, but you’re too stubborn to admit it.”
I let out a frustrated groan and bury my face in my hands. “Ugh, no. We’re just friends and it can’t be any more than that.”
“Can’t be?” she questions, immediately calling out my bullshit answer.
I open my mouth, hoping for a simple explanation to fall out, but nothing comes.
Instead, I let my gaze wander over to Milo, running around without a care in the world.
I wanted to be honest with Wren, but I was having trouble being honest with myself.
Feelings were starting to slip through the cracks, and I wasn’t sure how to feel about it.
The person who knows me the best in this world stares holes into the side of my face, carefully trying to read my mind with each movement. “It’s okay to admit you like him, Em. I know you feel pressure to be a mom first, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have room in your life for more.”
Something sharp pokes at the barrier I’ve worked hard to maintain even through the toughest storms. “It’s not just Milo,” I admit, barely above a whisper.
“It’s everything. I’m slowly creating a life for myself outside of my marriage, and I can’t risk all the progress I’ve made for someone who’s leaving at the end of the summer.
I can handle pushing my feelings down. What I can’t handle is letting someone in who can leave and never look back. ”
Silence greets me on the other end of my confession, and I hesitate before forcing myself to make eye contact with Wren. My body flinches, expecting a cloud of concern to hover over her, but instead, I’m met with muted features and an understanding hand pressed against my thigh.
“I get it, Emma. I really do. But not everyone leaves.”
A heavy, aching sensation festers inside my body. Open wounds were weighing me down that would never fully heal, and I accepted that a long time ago. I knew what Wren was saying was true. Of course, not every relationship in my life was doomed to end in heartbreak.
But knowing and believing felt like two foreign concepts trapped in my mind. I could understand something, but years of disappointment have created a hard exterior that had trouble putting its fate in someone else’s hands.
“Henry’s not staying,” I remind her, hoping to drive home my point. “His entire life is back in New York, and Honey Grove is just a fun detour for the summer.”
“Okay,” she sighs. “Have you ever considered not always worrying about the future? Maybe try being in the moment without worrying about how it’s going to end.”
I let out a long, deep sigh followed by a weak laugh. “I wish I could do that.”
Wren smiles and gently bumps her shoulder against mine. “I know it’s hard, but promise me something, okay?”
I bite my lip and meet her eyes again. “What is it?”
“If you think ignoring whatever is going on with you and Henry is best, then fine. I won’t try to change your mind. But if the only thing holding you back is fear then I hope you can realize that you deserve more than that.”
My gaze falls to the ground, mimicking the sinking feeling of my heart. Her words vibrate through my bones and threaten to unravel the tightrope, keeping my self-preservation from snapping in two.
My toddler barreling toward us breaks my thought process. Milo nearly trips over the blanket, hurtling at us in a big ball of excitement. “Mama!” he yells, holding up the dandelion for me to see.
I smile at the delicate flower with all of its fluffy white seeds dancing with the light summer breeze. I grab him and pull him into my lap with a muted thud. “Make a wish, baby,” I say, carefully transferring the stem to my hands.
He squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a small gust of air, not quite big enough to do the job. Before he can open his eyes and see the flower still intact, I blow sending the tiny seeds drifting into the breeze.
As I watch the seeds scatter, I think about what I would wish for. My arms wrap tightly around Milo, holding him close as I consider all the things I have. For a moment, I can’t think of anything I’d wish for, and then I remember an intoxicating smile that haunts my dreams.
If I could wish for anything, I’d wish for the courage to let Henry in.
My conversation with Wren is still heavy on my mind when Wednesday rolls around. I wasn’t ignoring my budding feelings for my neighbor; I was simply refusing to act on them. I knew I would thank myself in August when he wrapped up his detour and went back to the city.
Still, Wren’s words had cracked open something in my mind.
Fear was powerful, and it was a driving force for a lot of things in my life.
For the longest time, I feared the thought of being a bad wife, but then that fear was absorbed by the fear of being a bad mother.
But now I’m not sure if fear is keeping me from being happy or from getting hurt.
It felt like an impossible puzzle that would only be solved through actions I wasn’t ready to take.
I let out a heavy sigh and lean back in my desk chair. Henry would be here soon to get ready for his writing group. I hate how my eyesight keeps drifting toward the front door, waiting for his smile to breathe new life back into my body.
Soon, my waiting is rewarded when I hear the familiar ringing of the ball above the library door. Usually, I loathed that sound, but today, it was music to my ears.
My heart leaps out of my chest when I see how relaxed he looks in a dark grey sweater that hugs his torso.
My breath hitches when my eyes creep lower and see a pair of dark jeans that somehow make his legs look longer.
I love it when he wears jeans. It’s a stark contrast to the slacks he usually wears.
I watch him carefully, and as soon as he steps foot across the entrance of the library, his eyes find mine. I can see the way Henry’s amber eyes light up even from across the room. Sparks ignite in my chest, and I choke down a sip of water to snuff them out.