Chapter Fifteen
Fifteen
“LOVE IS A CHOICE. LOVE IS BUILT, NOT SPARKED. LOVE IS…”
Emma let out a groan and hit the delete key on her computer. Rewriting her book was turning into as frustrating a pursuit as finding a new husband.
“You okay?” Imani asked from across the table. They were having one of their legendary after-work work sessions at the coffee shop across from their office. Imani was finishing up client notes while Emma attempted to salvage her biggest career opportunity—and not obsessively think about Will. Or that thing he did with his tongue.
“I don’t know how to write a book. Why did anyone think I could write a book?” Emma lamented as she let a wave of self-pity wash over her.
“Have you looked at the state of the publishing industry lately? It’s not about who can write a book. It’s about who can sell a book. They wouldn’t have given you a contract if they didn’t think you could deliver on that part.”
“But what if the contents of the book are bad? Like, ‘makes no sense, long rambling sentences followed by glimmers of a mental breakdown’ bad?”
Imani shrugged. “Most people don’t actually read self-help books after they buy them.”
Emma had to admit this was somewhat comforting to hear—even if it wasn’t a good sign for humanity. “If I pay you one million dollars, will you finish the book for me?”
Imani smirked. “Show me proof of funds and I’ll consider it.”
“What about five hundred dollars and I’ll handle all your insurance billing for the next year?”
“Counter: ten thousand dollars and you handle all my insurance billing for the next five years.”
“That’s extortion and you know—” Emma’s phone lit up with an incoming call and she forgot to finish her sentence. “Oh my god. Will is calling me.”
It had been exactly six days since their disastrous encounter. Jackie had spent the entire time trying to get Emma back on the apps, but Emma was still too upset to banter with strangers. They’d finally agreed she was allowed one full week off from the operation before diving back into a sea of awkward messages and the occasional dick pic. The wedding was less than five months away after all; every swipe counted.
“Really?” Imani asked, rather surprised. “Maybe it’s a butt dial.”
“Why are you assuming it’s a butt dial?”
“Why are you assuming that man wants to talk to you after your last interaction?”
Emma’s phone faded to her lock screen. “Shit. I missed it.”
“Maybe he’ll leave a voicemail,” Imani joked. No one left voicemails anymore, unless they forgot to hang up in time.
“I’m going to call him back,” Emma declared, grabbing her phone and heading toward the door. “If I’m not back in five minutes, order me another scone. Actually, order me another scone either way.”
As the surprisingly cool evening air hit Emma’s face, she felt her heart rate quicken. Was it possible that Will had changed his mind? Was Emma finally going to receive good news for once? She prayed to whoever would listen as she hit the necessary buttons to call him back.
“Hey,” Will answered after only two rings.
“Hi,” Emma replied. A moment of complete silence followed that was as emotionally excruciating as the time her sixth-grade crush asked Emma to set him up with Jackie—even though Jackie was a high school junior. It was the first time Emma understood that most boys would rather swing for the fences than settle with her.
“You’re probably wondering why I called.”
“A little, yes,” Emma lied. She wanted to know why more than anything in the world. But considering the massive amount of rejection she had faced in the last few months, she had to pretend to have some dignity.
“First, I want to apologize. I was probably too harsh on you the other day. If my job has taught me anything it’s that just because I don’t understand something doesn’t mean it doesn’t make sense to someone else.”
Emma felt her entire body deflate. It didn’t seem like he had suddenly come around to Operation: Save My Date. “Thank you. I know how it probably seems to you, but it isn’t about replacing someone. It’s about building the life I want for myself.”
“Absolutely,” Will agreed a little too eagerly. Emma didn’t understand why he sounded so nervous. “I actually watched all your YouTube videos about it after you left. You’ve really hit a nerve with people. The comment sections are out of control.”
Emma let a small laugh escape despite her best effort to keep her guard up. He was right. People were writing paragraphs back and forth on whether Operation: Save My Date was brilliantly revolutionary or, to quote one commenter, “a clear signal of humanity’s active decline due to loneliness and depravity.” She’d stopped reading after that one.
“It’s definitely started a conversation.” Emma wanted to say more. She wanted to share all the ways this experiment had already changed her—along with her doubts and fears around pulling it off. But Will hadn’t earned that. He was no longer her potential future; he was just another guy who’d said no.
“How would you feel about continuing that conversation with me? For a new podcast?”
“Is that a joke?”
“Why would it be a joke?”
“Because of that mug you gave me the other day. ‘Careful or you’ll end up in my next podcast.’”
Will laughed, and then laughed a little more. “I guess our merch says that for a reason. It’s a side effect of the job. Whenever we meet interesting people, we want to pick their brains and mine them for content.”
“How lovely,” Emma quipped. Even though she knew she was guilty of something similar on her channel and in her book.
“You don’t have to decide anything now. But I threw the idea around to some of my bosses and they think it has legs. I’d basically follow your journey and interview you and the people in your life about Operation: Save My Date. It’d be good publicity for your channel and brand. And maybe it’ll change some people’s minds about Western dating culture.”
Emma scoffed. “You don’t mean that last part.”
“Hey, I’m not opposed to any outcome that gets us listeners. But I’ll admit that’s not my main priority. I’m more interested in the human side of it all. What it means on an individual level for you to try to make this work and the impact it will have on your life.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“You know, you were much more receptive to my ideas when you didn’t hate me.”
“I don’t hate you,” Emma replied. She stopped herself from admitting that her main hesitation came from how much she didn’t hate him. That she probably liked him too much to continue seeing him on a regular basis without being able to touch, kiss or grab him. “I just need to think about it.”
“Fair enough. Let me send you some more info about what I’m envisioning. I’d want it to be something we’re both excited about.”
“You don’t think it’ll be weird? After we…” Emma refrained from giving the full play-by-play of what had happened between them in his bedroom. Even though it had been running on a loop in her head since she left his apartment. “You know.”
“It will absolutely be weird. But I think that’s part of the charm.”
After Emma told him her email address and they hung up, she made her way back inside. She saw a pile of scones waiting for her and was glad they would soften the blow of Imani’s reaction; her extremely rational best friend wasn’t going to be pleased about this new development.
Her sister, however, would be thrilled.
***
“This is incredible!” Jackie squealed when Emma told her the news. The entire Moskowitz crew was having a barbecue in Jackie and Chris’s enormous backyard—although Emma didn’t know if it counted as a real barbecue if all the food was catered.
“I haven’t agreed to anything yet.” Emma’s eyes flitted to her nieces playing on their custom handcrafted jungle gym as Alan and Debbie watched and occasionally applauded. A successful family life always looked deceptively easy to achieve from the outside. And maybe it was—for other people. “What if I’m being set up to look like a total idiot?”
Jackie waved Emma’s concern away. “Who cares? You won’t sound like an idiot, because you’re you. And if they give you a bad edit, we can just sue.”
“I don’t think you can sue over a bad edit.”
“Please, you can sue over anything. This is America.”
“You really think I should do it? Even though I still have feelings for Will and have no actual prospects for a new groom?”
These were both points Imani had been quick to call out after Emma had shared the news of Will’s pitch immediately following their phone call. Imani thought that Emma teaming up with her sort-of ex to mine the most vulnerable time in her romantic life for content was the total opposite of sound judgment; her exact words were, “Agreeing to do this podcast is the emotional equivalent of walking into a nuclear disaster site wearing a bikini.”
But Jackie didn’t seem the least bit concerned. “Absolutely. Just turn those feelings for Will off and get back on the apps.”
“Jackie, you don’t actually think people can turn their feelings off, do you?”
“Please. I do it all the time. Izzy has this one friend whose mom is a total nightmare. Always late for playdates, talks shit about all the other moms—which means she’s also talking shit about me. But whenever I see her, I put on a smile and act like everything’s fine and we’re totally friends. She even invited me to her fortieth-birthday extravaganza in Turks and Caicos—not that I would ever go.”
“I think what you’re talking about is suppressing feelings, not turning them off.”
“Same difference.” Jackie’s gaze suddenly flung toward her children. “Hey! Spit that grass out of your mouth.”
Emma’s youngest niece, Amelia, instantly complied and a green glob fell to the ground.
“You’re not going to believe this,” Chris shouted as he bounded over from inside the house. His laptop was dangling from his hand, and he wasn’t wearing any shoes. “I found him.”
“Found who? And why aren’t you wearing your slides? I put them by the sliding doors for this exact—”
Chris cut his wife off, which was almost unheard-of in their dynamic. “I found Emma’s new husband.”