Emily swallowed, her hand sliding across the table as she braced herself against the onslaught of emotion. Her mother’s cool fingers wrapped around hers and—slowly—she let her wall down, opening herself to her mother’s feelings.
“When your father left, it almost destroyed me,” Eve said, meeting her gaze. “For a long time it hurt to even think of him. It still does sometimes.”
Emily felt her mother’s anguish, the empty space where her father should have been, and her own heart broke in response. But then, gradually the feeling changed, grew warm and soft.
“It was hard, but I had you and you were so . . . perfect.” She smiled and squeezed Emily’s hand. “Over time, I was able to remember more of the good times. You know what I learned?”
“What?” The word was barely a whisper. Emily felt overwhelmed by the rush of love—of joy—emanating from her mother.
Eve leaned forward, blue-green eyes so like her own pleading with Emily to understand. “It was worth it. I have no regrets, Em. Sure, sometimes I wish things could have been different. Robert wasn’t perfect. I have no illusions about that. He was weak, and for a long time that made me so angry.
“But love doesn’t need perfection to flourish, Em. I loved him anyway. And I wouldn’t give up one moment I had with him. Not one.” She looked across the room, and Emily followed her gaze to where her grandmother stood chatting with a young couple.
“Your grandma would say the same thing, you know,” she said. “She and grandpa had twenty years together before his heart attack. Do you think she for one second regrets any of those years, just because she eventually lost him? Do you think if she could go back—knowing the pain of losing him—that she’d decide it wasn’t worth it?”
Eve squeezed her fingers once more before releasing her hand. Her emotions flitted away, little by little, until Emily was left with only her own confused feelings. Left with the doubt that comes from learning you’d based all of your major life decisions on a misconception.
Her mother, of course, knew what she was thinking. Allowed her to sit in silence while the party swirled around her as she tried to get a grasp on what all of it meant. Finally leaned forward and touched her cheek, sending another wave of love her way.
“Don’t run away from this, Em,” she said, and Emily’s eyes automatically flashed toward Sam.
He smiled widely at a little girl as he handed her a piece of cake, and her stomach flipped wildly.
“I’m scared,” she whispered.
“I know,” Eve said, just as quietly. “And maybe it will all fall apart. Maybe it won’t work out.” At Emily’s stunned gaze, she added, “Or maybe it will. Maybe you’ll be together and happy forever. Do you want to risk missing out on the best thing in your life because you’re afraid?
“Now,” she said, tapping the table lightly. “I need a drink, and maybe some of that cake.” She glanced significantly across the room. “It does look good, doesn’t it?” She winked and got up from the table. “You might want to grab it before it’s gone.”
Emily knew she wasn’t really talking about cake.
She watched her mother cross the room to take a piece of cake from Sam before joining her grandmother. They laughed, and Emily smiled at the sight. Then, she felt his eyes on her . . . felt her gift flare up in response. Out of habit, she fought it back down, re-building her wall. Yet, she stood up. She straightened her skirt. And slowly, she made her way across the room to him, meeting his gaze the whole way.
He offered her a tentative smile and a plate. “Cake?”
“Thanks.” She took the plate and fiddled with the fork, but didn’t take a bite. “I’m sorry about before—”
“I wasn’t trying to go behind your back.”
“I know.”
“Although my baked goods have been known to win the hearts of many a protective parent.” He smiled, and she realized he was going to let her off the hook.
“Many?”
He shrugged. “What can I say? I’m that good.”
“And so modest.”
“It’s part of my charm.”
She hummed slightly, turning her attention to the piece of cake and running the tines of the fork through the frosting. “You got my message? About Jessica?”
“Yes. I was devastated.”
She looked back up to find him grinning widely. “You really didn’t give me much to work with, you know? You could have put forth a little effort.”
He snorted. “Maybe you’re just not that good a matchmaker.”
She bristled. “I’m an excellent matchmaker!”
He sobered, leaning toward her slightly. “Then how come you couldn’t tell she wasn’t right for me?”
“The algorithms—”
“Forget the algorithms,” he said, reaching for the plate and taking it out of her hands. “I’m not interested in algorithms.” He stepped closer and her gift flared, anxious, her heart thudding in her chest.
“What are you interested in?” she asked, frightened of the answer, but needing to hear it.
“Dancing,” he said with a wink.
She blinked, surprised. “Excuse me?”
He held out a hand. “Dance with me?”
Emily stared at him for a long moment, years of guarding her heart warring with the prodding of her gift . . . the longing she felt to reach out and take what he was offering. She looked into his eyes and didn’t need her gift to see the plea there, the desire, the wondering if she felt what he did—if she was willing to find out where this would lead if she would only take the chance.
Her eyes dropped to his open palm, and she took a deep breath, her mother’s words echoing in her brain.
And she reached out.
His hesitant smile grew as he led her out onto the dance floor, a soft melody heavy with saxophone playing through the speakers. Sam took her in his arms and she braced herself, moving stiffly with him to the music.
“Relax,” he said, his breath brushing past her ear. “Let go. It’s just a dance.”
Emily knew it was more than that, though. It was hope and fear and excitement and no turning back.
But Emily did. Let go. She closed her eyes and let the wall inside her collapse, brick by brick. She let herself feel his hand holding hers, his arm around her waist, her fingers brushing the skin just above his shirt collar.
She gasped as her gift swelled, wild with abandon at finally being allowed to run free. It filled her—surrounded her—with a feeling of love, of rightness, and of absolute peace.
“Are you all right?” Sam asked, straightening to look into her eyes. “You’re a little flushed.”
Emily smiled, but didn’t answer. Instead, she rose up on her tiptoes, her hand curling around the back of his neck, fingers tingling where they touched his skin. His eyes widened and dipped to her mouth before rising questioningly to meet her gaze. She nodded slightly, breath catching as he bent slowly to press his lips to hers.
Heat surged through her, electricity racing over her skin at the touch of his lips, his body against hers as he drew her closer. In that instant, she felt all that they could be—the potential and the promise—their future together, whether days, weeks or years. As he smiled against her mouth, then tipped his head to deepen the kiss, she felt the love that would grow over time, strong and fervent. She knew—in the way only she could know—that there would be no other for her. Regardless of compatibility or common interests, he was her perfect match.
But when, a long time later, he pulled back and looked into her eyes, she realized she was wrong. She wasn’t the only one who knew. Even without a gift like hers, he knew it too.
Across the room, Eve and Ellen Valentine watched with satisfaction.
“How’s she look?” Eve asked.
Ellen smiled at the sparkling aura surrounding both of them—gold and silver enveloping them both in ribbons of shimmering light as they swayed on the dance floor.
“Perfect,” she said with a smug smile. “You think
she’ll be mad when she finds out we’re the ones who got him on Jessica’s list?” She took another bite of cake and groaned at the rich, dark chocolate.
“Maybe. Probably,” Eve said. “We should wait a while to tell her. Say, after the wedding?”
Ellen laughed. “Good idea.”
“Who knew that computer class would come in so handy?” Eve said with a grin.
“Well, to be fair, it wasn’t the class. It was the extracurricular instruction with my friend Javier.”
Eve snorted. “Only you would befriend a hacker.”
“He prefers ‘accessibility expert.’”
Eve took a sip of her champagne and turned back to watch her granddaughter dancing, her head on Sam’s chest, his cheek resting on her hair. She sighed happily. “It was worth it.”
Ellen smiled and licked a bit of frosting off her fork. “Of course it was, sweetie,” she said. “Love always is.”
The MORE Trilogy
MORE | The Guardians | TWELVE
Standalones
Cutlass
Second Chances
Short Stories
Unscheduled Departure
T.M. Franklin writes stories of adventure, romance, & a little magic. A former TV news producer, she decided making stuff up was more fun than reporting the facts. Her first published novel, MORE, was born during National Novel Writing month, a challenge to write a novel in thirty days. MORE was well-received, being selected as a finalist in the 2013 Kindle Book Review Best Indie Book Awards, as well as winning the Suspense/Thriller division of the Blogger Book Fair Reader's Choice Awards. She's since written three additional novels and several best-selling short stories...and there's always more on the way.
Connect with T.M. Franklin at her website: www.TMFranklin.com.
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A Piece of Cake Page 5
