“Because it’s eating you alive, Em.” Dani’s voice was simple and matter-of-fact and part of Emma hated her a little bit for that. The rest of her hated Dani for being right.
“I know.” She gave up, defeated. “All right. I’ll go see her tomorrow.”
“Good,” Dani said. “I only nag because I love.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Try to get some sleep. You sound like you could fall over anytime.”
They signed off and she lay there in the dark of her bedroom, all her clothes still on, and stared at the ceiling.
It was time to face the reality of her situation, which she had been clear on for a while now: the only one she really wanted to talk to was Charlie.
And she should. She would.
And also?
She was terrified.
Chapter Twenty-four
Charlie had become a weirdo. In one night. She was pretty sure.
It was the beginning of August, and rather than key lime, triple berry was the flavor of the month. Charlie had the dough chilling and was working on the filling, a mouthwatering combination of blackberries, raspberries, and blueberries that she wanted to scoop into her mouth with a spoon, to hell with the crust. The entire kitchen smelled warm and sweet and absolutely edible. More so than usual, given it was in a bakery.
As she worked, the noise from next door’s construction creating a not terribly pleasant soundtrack, she recalled her plan, the one she’d worked through last night. The one where she’d pretty much written a speech. A speech that talked about how she was feeling, how she wanted to know what Emma was feeling, what the next steps might be, if there were any. An actual, honest-to-God speech. To give to Emma.
Weirdo didn’t begin to describe her.
Fridays were always a little lighter, a little more fun at The Muffin Top. They were busier. Customers were in good moods. They took their time ordering. Lingered a bit. And now that the construction was underway next door, they were curious. Asked questions. Peeked through the windows on the sidewalk with curiosity. Sandy and Bethany had the front covered as Charlie worked in the back, Sandy flitting back and forth between the current part of the shop and the new one. And all the time Charlie worked, she went over her talking points.
My God, I have talking points? Am I running for office? I just want to be real with her. That’s all. Why is this so hard?
Those thoughts had coursed through her mind on a loop. But she was a smart woman and while she could wail and drop her head back, roll it around in an animated display of frustration, she already knew the answer to why this was all so hard, the answer to why she’d waited more than a week to take the bull by the horns, sit Emma down, and make her talk. It was simple, really.
She was afraid.
Emma didn’t trust her. And why should she? She had hurt Emma. Badly. Yes, they’d been young and that was the time in life when you screwed up adult things, but she’d left very, very deep scars on Emma. It only made sense that Emma would put walls up with her. Protect herself.
Charlie rolled out the dough, laid it into pie plates, as her mind churned and swirled.
And while she liked to think their night together was something more than just sex, she also knew of Emma’s penchant for pairing with women in just that way: sex only. Look at poor Sabrina the bartender. She’d obviously wanted something more with Emma, and Emma had shut her down.
Would Emma shut her down, too?
It was a possibility she needed to be prepared for. A distinct one.
With a sigh, she filled her pies, covered them with the second layer. As she slid one into the oven, she felt her phone buzz in her back pocket. When she finished what she was doing, she took the phone out, gave it a quick glance. A text from the woman who had interviewed her on Skype. The one from the Boston firm.
We are happy to request a second, in-person interview with you.
Several dates were listed, all of them for the following week, and she had her pick.
Lily had been right.
Charlie’s heart beat fast as she scooted to the back corner, out of sight of customers, and read the text again, checked the dates. This job could be hers. She could hardly believe it. It wasn’t New York, true, but Boston was an amazing city, according to Lily. Charlie knew she’d like it there. The fast pace, the endless sound, the never-ending selection of things to do and see and taste.
She breathed out slowly.
“Everything okay?”
Charlie jumped as she turned to meet Sandy’s eyes. A hand pressed to her chest, she let out a nervous laugh. “You scared me.”
Sandy grinned. “Sorry. You looked so serious—I wanted to make sure nothing was wrong.”
“Oh no.” Charlie shook her head, probably more vehemently than she needed to. “Everything’s fine.” She hadn’t mentioned to Sandy that she’d had an interview, and she decided to keep it that way for just a little while longer. As soon as she checked on flights, she’d need to take a couple days off from the bakery, and she was going to have to be honest with Sandy about why. A little seed of dread took up residence in the pit of her stomach.
“Good.” Sandy interrupted her thoughts. “Emma’s here to see you.”
“Emma?” Charlie’s heart rate suddenly jumped to double time as she followed Sandy through the kitchen. “Now?” She wasn’t ready for this, was she? Her speech. Her talking points.
“Mm-hmm. She asked if she could talk to you.” Sandy studied her for a moment, and her expression held something wise and knowing. Then she jerked her head toward the front of the shop and said softly, “Why don’t you take a couple minutes? Go outside and talk. Bethany’s okay for a bit.”
“Okay.” Charlie shook out her arms. She rolled her head around a couple of times, felt that satisfying pop. She bounced on the balls of her feet. When she turned her head, Sandy was grinning at her.
“Is it time for the big game?” Sandy asked quietly, trying—and failing—to hide her amusement.
Charlie shot her a mock glare. “Shut up.” She pushed through the door.
“The pies look great,” Sandy called, her laughter following Charlie out into the front area where Emma stood waiting in a corner away from the counter.
God, she was beautiful. How was it possible that she was always so beautiful? She must’ve stopped in on her way into the restaurant, as she wore her loose-fitting chef’s pants, though not the coat. Just a white T-shirt that hugged her form nicely. Her hair was pulled back, as it always was when she cooked, but her chef’s hat also hadn’t made an appearance yet. She looked casual. Authoritative. Ridiculously sexy. Charlie’s heart skipped a beat. It skipped several.
“Hey,” Emma said as Charlie approached.
“Hi.” She reached out, gave Emma’s arm a gentle squeeze. She couldn’t help it. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” Emma nodded. “Yeah, I just wondered if we could talk for a minute. I know you’re working…” She let the sentence trail off like she had no idea what the end of it was. She seemed…nervous was the wrong word. A little off, maybe? Uncertain?
“No worries. Sandy gave me a few minutes.” She sighed internally, pretty sure she was about to get the brush-off. And even though she knew it was something she’d needed to prepare for as a possibility, it still sucked. “You want to go outside?” She gestured to the door with her chin.
“No, no, this is fine.” Emma’s unease was obvious as she looked around the bakery. They were in one of their lulls that happened on and off throughout the day. One customer was trying to decide between almond cookies and lemon ones. Two others sat at a far table sharing a Danish. The rest of the place was quiet—construction noise from next door aside—but Emma was fidgety. Either she didn’t want to be there, or she didn’t know what she wanted to say. Charlie wasn’t sure which, so she pulled out a chair at the table for two near them and sat. Emma did the same and seemed suddenly relieved to not be standing.
“What’s up?” She wasn’t trying to
sound snarky at all, but a little bit crept in, she was sure. Because really, if you’re going to blow somebody off, just do it. Her muscles tightened on their own, her jaw clenched, and she knew she was bracing.
“I’m really sorry.” Emma had her elbows on the table, her dark eyes focused on her.
And there it was. Even though Charlie had known it was coming, had been ready for it, it still sucked. Big time. Not wanting to let Emma see that, she waved a hand between them as if she was wiping a dry-erase board clean.
“Hey, no worries. It was just one night, right? Super crazy circumstances…” She watched Emma’s expression change. Her brow furrowed. She pursed her lips.
“No, I’m not sorry about that.”
“You’re not?” Charlie blinked at her.
“No. Are you?”
“God, no. I just thought…” Now she didn’t know what to think, and her talking points began rolling around in her head again. Emma was not sorry about their night together? She was at a loss. This was good news, something she realized right at that moment, right as she sat there looking into Emma’s sparkling eyes, at the almost-smile on her face. “Then, what are you sorry for?”
“I’m sorry for not talking to you sooner. About important things. Things besides pie.”
“Listen, pie is very important.”
“Oh, that’s right. I forget. My bad.”
They sat there for a moment, both smiling, and Charlie felt a pang of what used to be, of how comfortable she’d always been with Emma, how relaxed and content she felt being with somebody who knew her as well as Emma did. Or at least used to know her.
“So, look.” Emma wet her lips and sat up a little straighter, as if in preparation to say something super important. “I was thinking—”
Her words were cut off by the door of The Muffin Top being flung open, the small bell not given a chance to tinkle sweetly. Rather, it banged against the glass with a thwack. They both turned to see who had shoved their way into the bakery. A noisy group of what looked to be high school kids came in, shoving playfully at each other while cranking the decibel level up by several notches.
“I got a second interview,” Charlie blurted before she realized she was going to, “with a really big marketing firm. In Boston.”
“Oh.” Emma blinked at her, obviously trying to regroup, to alter whatever path she’d been on when she’d walked in. “I see. Well. That’s awesome. I mean, I didn’t know you were interviewing, but…” She cleared her throat. “That’s great. When do you go?”
Emma was having trouble meeting her eyes now, and somehow, that was almost worse than anything else. That Emma could barely look at her. She hadn’t meant to just drop it on her, but part of her was glad she had because if she hadn’t, she wasn’t sure she’d have been able to tell her at all. And Emma, of all people, deserved to know. “I haven’t set it up yet, but sometime next week.”
“Oh, wow. Next week? That’s…” Emma scratched her neck, looked around the bakery as if she wasn’t sure where to settle her gaze. “That’s soon.”
“Yeah.” Charlie swallowed. Hard. Words had left her. All of them. The air shifted drastically. She had no idea what to say. She wanted to erase the shock, the unease, the confusion on Emma’s face, but she didn’t know how.
“It’s a good company, you said?”
“It is. My friend Lily works there. She’s the one who got me in the door.”
“Oh, good. Good. It’s good to have friends like that.”
“Yeah.” God, this was painful. It was Charlie’s turn to clear her throat. “So, what you started to say earlier—”
“Oh, no worries.” Emma waved it off dismissively. “It wasn’t important. Not a big deal.” She stood from her chair, and while Charlie had the impression that it might have been a very big deal, she felt stuck. Paralyzed. Unable to make any kind of move that might salvage this disaster of a conversation. “Listen, good luck on the interview, okay? I hope you get what you want.” And before Charlie could say another word, Emma turned on her heel and left The Muffin Top, left her standing alone and frustrated. When she looked back at the counter, Sandy was standing there, the look of confusion on her face telling Charlie that she’d likely heard the entire conversation. Sandy held her gaze, then turned and pushed through the doors to the back. She had some explaining to do.
No time like the present. She blew out a breath and followed Sandy.
* * *
I am so stupid.
I am so stupid.
I am so stupid.
Emma couldn’t get the words to stop playing in a loop through her head, but she also didn’t want them to stop. She needed to hear them. To remember them. To grab on to them and hold tight until she learned her lesson. Again.
She grabbed a meat tenderizer and went to work on the chicken breasts for tonight’s chicken French special. It really was a perfect job for how she felt, and she hammered away.
What in the actual fuck had she been thinking? Seriously? What? Had she somehow conveniently forgotten what it was like the last time a big-city opportunity had presented itself and swept Charlie away like an ocean wave? Like the two of them were standing together on the beach, and suddenly, Charlie was gone, waving at her from the bow of a really expensive yacht, sailing off to a better life. One that didn’t include her. Had she forgotten what it felt like to have her heart split in two in the middle of her chest?
Well. She’d done what she’d had to do this time.
This time, she wasn’t about to wait for Charlie to rip her heart out of her body, stomp it into a million pieces, and then hand it back to her. No. No way. Not again. This time, it was Emma who had taken the bull by the horns. Emma who had exited somewhat gracefully before she could be pummeled into the ground. She was not going to go through that again.
How could she have possibly thought they might have something again? She was an intelligent woman. Wasn’t she? Charlie wasn’t new and she obviously hadn’t changed, had she? Nope. She was still the same old selfish Charlie, always ready to do what served Charlie best.
Okay, maybe that wasn’t fair. Had she really expected Charlie wouldn’t try to find another job in her field? That she wouldn’t want to get back to the big city? Any big city? It’s what drew her out of Shaker Falls in the first place, why wouldn’t it again? So if she was being honest with herself, Charlie was simply doing what any person in her shoes would do. She had to admit that.
It still hurt, though. Goddamn it, it still hurt, and for that, Emma blamed herself. She’d let Charlie back in, and wow, it hadn’t taken much, had it? It hadn’t taken much to fall right back into old routines, old comforts, familiarity. It hadn’t taken much at all. And she had loved it.
She’d loved it.
She had to admit that too.
Switching out the chicken breasts, she reloaded her cutting board with the next ones and pounded away. It really did help, the physical act of beating something into submission.
Charlie was going to fly to Boston, she was going to get a job offer, and she was probably not going to even come back. If she did come back, it would be quick. Boston was a little bit closer than New York, so at least that might make things easier on Charlie’s parents. It would still crush Mrs. Stetko, Emma knew that, and she started making plans to pop in to say hi, make sure they were doing okay. Lord knew, Charlie wouldn’t be visiting regularly.
Emma stopped hammering, stood there with the tenderizer setting on the chicken breast, as her heart pounded and tears threatened. She concentrated on her breathing. Focused on her lungs. Deep breath in through the nose. Hold it. Out through the mouth slowly. She did that three times and literally felt her heart rate slow.
This was her new normal. Which was such an odd thing to think because Charlie hadn’t been home all that long. It wasn’t a new normal at all. It was normal. That’s all it was. Just normal. And Emma needed to get back to it.
Chapter Twenty-five
Charlie hadn’t expected to be
on a plane and headed to Boston on Sunday. That was crazy fast, considering she’d just gotten the request for the second interview barely three days ago. But the airline gods had been with her, and she found a flight that was reasonably affordable and got her into Boston with plenty of time for her to get her bearings, find her way around, and get to her interview on time.
Downtown Boston was gorgeous in August. Charlie wasn’t surprised, and she also was. She’d never been to Boston before, but she’d seen photos and heard descriptions from Lily, and neither of those things had done the city justice.
Charlie could have strolled around Quincy Market for days if she’d had the time. The colors, the smells, the people, the food. So much food. The atmosphere was a festive one, but also relaxed. People were happy, and they were also chilling, hanging out with a drink here or a snack there. It had been a hot day, but the humidity seemed to decrease slowly as evening approached. She moseyed along in her sundress and flat sandals, taking in all the sights and sounds, and thinking about how much Emma would like it here, how fascinated she’d be with the seemingly endless array of food vendors. When she realized where her mind had gone, she shook it back to the present and focused on her surroundings—and her surroundings only—until she found the small café where she was meeting Lily.
“There she is!”
She heard Lily’s voice before she ever saw her, but the next thing she knew, she was wrapped in the warm embrace of her friend she hadn’t seen in much, much too long. Lily felt leaner, her muscles tighter, and she still smelled like oranges, the way she always had.
“Somebody’s been going to the gym,” Charlie said, squeezing Lily’s upper arm as they parted.
“Yoga,” Lily said with a proud grin. “Don’t be fooled by the pretty clothes and relaxing music. It’s hard work.”
“I’ve heard this.”
Lily led her a few feet to a metal outdoor café table, complete with two chairs and two glasses of white wine, condensation dripping down the sides. “I took the liberty of ordering you a drink. I hope that’s okay.”
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