by KL Donn
“I fucked up, Cal.”
“Duh,” she retorts, and I turn to glare at her. She rolls her eyes. “You’re a man. It’s in your DNA to fuck shit up. You just have to be man enough to fix it.” She shrugs like it’s so simple.
“How do you propose I do that?” Ember isn’t a flowers and chocolates kind of girl. She won’t forgive my silence so easily.
“Let her know you’re thinking about her. Have dinner delivered to her.”
“She’ll toss it just to spite me.”
“Write her a letter.”
“She’ll burn it.” Ember is filled with as much fire as her name. One spark and she turns into a flame.
“Then make it personal, Noah. Do not let one more day pass that you don’t do something to ensure she understands you’re thinking of her.”
Fuck.
I’ve never been the romantic guy either.
“She mentioned a dance thing. Show up. But don’t let her see you until after the show. Wouldn’t want her to screw up on stage or anything.” Cali’s words give me an idea.
2
Noah
Watching Ember dance has always been one of my favorite things. Over the last two days, I’ve consumed nothing but her recital videos on her Instagram page, and each new one leaves me more entranced than the last. A peacefulness seems to settle over her from the moment the music begins to play, and bearing witness to that is a gift.
I figured out where her recital was taking place from those same posts because she has a large following that likes to see her perform live.
Standing backstage now, observing her on stage. The audience is enthralled as Ember plays a wicked Snow White, telling her story, far darker than what’s been shown on movie screens, with nothing but the keys of a piano for noise, I think I fall deeper in love with her.
Ember’s moves reflect her personal pain. Pain that I caused her. And even though there’s no teleprompter to speak or reflect for her, I can see it.
The way she grips her heart.
Closes her eyes on the crescendos.
When she drops to the ground, a broken shell of the woman I know, everyone feels her agony.
A better man would have stayed away. Left her alone to grieve with the heartbreak he dealt. But I’m not a better man, and I won’t be walking away again. If anything, I’ll be pulling her closer. Starting with this simple gesture.
Gazing down at the envelope in my hand, I can only hope she opens it before tossing it in the trash. I’ve spent the last two days putting together a series of notes for her. Each on hand-crafted paper. Each with a symbol and a line of our journey to get to where we are today. All with a purpose. Begging her forgiveness. Promising I won’t do a damn thing to hurt her ever again and showing her how much I value her presence in my life.
As the music ceases and darkness overshadows the stage, the show ends. The curtains close, and the audience applauds the magic they just witnessed before the curtains open again, and Ember takes a bow.
Spotting one of Ember’s fellow dancers, I hand her the envelope, asking that she give it to Em once she’s off stage, and take my leave.
If I want her to forgive me, I can’t push her. I need to give her the space she requested, even if it’s slowly killing me inside. Leaving now is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Not being able to be at her side while she’s hurting is what slays me inside.
Because of my silence and Ember’s inability to hide her pain from Kol, our relationship has suffered the last few months, and I regret that every bit as much. When my marriage fell apart, Kol was with me every step of the way. Losing Katrina didn’t hurt me nearly as much as the vile bitch would have liked. It was more the idea of the family I’d hoped for that shook me.
Now, with Ember, I can’t imagine a life without her. I can’t handle the mere idea of losing out on having her by my side until the end of time.
Family was never a concept I understood until Kol and I were partnered together years ago. Both orphans, I think we bonded over our lack of parents, even if for different reasons. His died in an accident; mine left me on the steps of a firehouse in the middle of winter. I grew up in the system, and if not for a new social worker when I was fifteen, I’d have been on the wrong side of the law and likely in prison right now.
The first thing I did as an officer was search for my parents. What I found was depressing. My mother died from a drug overdose when I was five, and my father was stabbed to death in prison when I was nine. I spent many years angry that they abandoned me, but after learning more about them, and their criminal records, I found gratitude for the sacrifice they made.
About seven years ago, Cali sought me out. Her dad was killed in action as an FBI agent, and her mother—my father’s sister—had recently passed away from liver failure. A life of too much drinking was what Cali described it as. The woman had never recovered after the loss of her husband.
Now, we’re all we have left of our family.
Where Cali is more free-spirited and bohemian, I’m law and order. Family and roots. Her young age allows her to travel more than if she were in the settling down frame of mind. One day, a man will tame her wild ways.
Being present as Kol and his brother Arsen found love, has inspired me to stop resisting Ember because of our age difference. A little over eleven years separates us, and if I allow that number to keep us apart, I’m doing us both a disservice.
I’ll never find another woman like Ember, and allowing her to get away from me isn’t an option. She’s mine, and I’m going to prove it to her.
Ember
It’s past midnight, and the show was over hours ago. I should be exhausted. I was exhausted. Until I was handed a note backstage. With my name scrawled across the front, I immediately recognized Noah’s writing.
The note is from him.
I haven’t opened it yet.
I don’t even know if I want to.
Two nights ago, I was dead set on moving on from him. Accepting that we have no future together. It was the hardest decision I’ve ever had to make in my life. And now, here I am, debating throwing my convictions out the window because of a few written words.
“Come on, Em. You won’t sleep unless you open it,” I mutter.
Frustrated, I tear open the sealed envelope and shake out the contents inside.
A single piece of cream-colored, thick, hand-woven paper slips free and lands in my lap. The frayed edges are soft as I run a finger along them, but it’s the image and the words that capture my attention.
Drawn in the middle of the page is a single lilac stalk, elegant and straightforward. My favorite flower, with a single phrase written in Noah’s distinct handwriting.
It started with a look.
A small heart is drawn in the corner with an arrow through it, and embossed is E+N=Forever.
Tears quickly brush down my cheeks as my stomach cramps again, making me nauseous enough that I have to run to the bathroom.
Spilling the contents of my stomach has become a semi-regular thing, and I can’t say I enjoy it very much. My stress levels have been through the roof, and I keep telling myself that’s the reason because I don’t want to acknowledge the more common and likely culprit that I suspect. Because if it is, then I’ll never be able to move on from Noah. I’ll have a daily reminder of the life I was never given a chance to live.
My mind filters back to the short, simple, yet meaningful note from the man. Anyone else would have sent flowers and chocolates. They would have pestered a girl until she was sick of him. Not Noah. He is giving me exactly what I asked for while still letting me know he’s thinking about me. Even his silence now feels more poignant.
The little voice in my mind keeps asking, 'but what if it wasn’t what I think? What if he was trying to protect me?'
What if?
So many possibilities, and yet, I’m not sure I could handle any of the answers right now. I’m too fragile. Too emotionally unstable to forgive or forget.
After brushing my teeth, I crawl back into the hotel room bed and stare at the note. Noah seems to know me better than anyone else. His thoughtfulness in creating this elegant piece is beyond what I could have asked for, and maybe, if I can find it in myself to try again, this could be where we truly begin.
Or maybe this is where he ultimately breaks me.
Perhaps I’m clutching at straws that aren't really there. Just because I want forever with Noah, doesn’t mean it should happen. We should happen.
My foolish heart naturally wants the happily ever after I’ve witnessed my brothers receive.
3
Ember
Three days have passed since I received Noah’s note, and there’s been no further contact. This constant pain I feel when I think about him, about what that note could have meant, is going to fracture me in a way I’m not sure I’ll recover from.
“Ember Daniels?” My head darts up at the mention of my name. The smiling nurse is waiting patiently for me at the hallway entrance to the exam rooms.
Blowing out a deep breath, I’m not prepared for the results from my last appointment the day after my recital. The day after Noah’s note. I needed to know for sure, and I figured the most accurate answer would come from a doctor and not some pharmacy test.
After showing me into the room and instructing me to dress in a gown, she tells me the doctor will be in shortly. Stripping off my shirt, I pull on the flimsy paper gown, back wide open, and shiver from the air conditioner breeze.
“Knock, knock!” Dr. Kane’s cheery voice filters through the thick wood panel as she opens the door. “Ember! Good news, you’re pregnant!”
My entire body freezes.
My heart stops, and my ears ring.
Pregnant.
Of course, I am.
“Ember?” The woman stands in front of me, a look of concern on her face as she pulls out a tiny machine with a wand on the end. “Can we take a listen?” The question seems obligatory as she guides me to lay down on my back before I can respond.
After a couple of minutes of her gliding the wand around, there it is. A small, yet steady, thump, thump.
A beating heart.
A growing life.
Inside of me.
“We’ll get you set up for an ultrasound so we can calculate how far along you are, but from when we spoke last time, you think you're about three months or so?” I nod, still too shocked to form words. “I’ll let you get dressed, and we’ll get that appointment set up.” With a sympathetic smile, she’s gone, and I’m still lying on the bed.
Shaken to my core.
Suspecting is one thing. Confirming is an entirely different scenario.
Hopping off the bed, I stare at the compact machine used to listen to a heartbeat that I never anticipated loving so quickly as I get dressed. Pressing my hands to my stomach, I feel like I’m in a fog as I stride back out to the waiting room.
The doctor speaks, and I nod when necessary, but I don’t think I actually hear a word she says. With another smile, she hands me a card and some pamphlets. Leaving the clinic, I’m not paying attention as I bump into a tall man entering the building from the parkade.
“Sorry,” I mutter as my purse drops to the ground, and the pieces of paper that were in my hand sail down.
He grunts and reaches for some of the things that hit the ground, shoving them back at me before leaving. Dazed and confused about the odd encounter, I dig my car keys out of my bag and hold it a little tighter to my chest.
Sitting behind the wheel of my car, I lock the doors and place my hand on the steering wheel, staring at the craggy cement wall in front of me.
The last few years have been such a roller coaster. Watching my brothers fall in love has given me so much hope. I long for what they have so desperately. Now, I’m going to be a single mom, and I have no idea how or if I should even fill Noah in, but not telling him would be a complete dick move, not to mention selfish. My baby deserves a father. But the idea of sharing the rest of my life with this man without being intimate is nearly unbearable.
The drive home remains dull and quiet, and as I roll into the driveway of the house I grew up in, I wonder what my parents would say if they were alive.
Would they be disappointed that I’m pregnant so young?
Would they be angry that I was reckless?
Or would they tell me they loved me and that we’d get through this, together, as a family?
There are so many thoughts plaguing my mind as I enter the house my brothers left to me when Kol moved out last year. I know that, in my parents' will, the money from its sale was supposed to be split three ways, but the boys wanted to keep it in the family and said I was the ideal candidate because I hold its history in my heart. Whatever that means.
Dropping my purse and the pamphlets on the hall table, I sit on the bottom stair step, staring at the front door.
Feeling lost isn’t foreign to me unless I’m dancing. Otherwise, I often feel like I’m sinking and don’t know how to swim.
I need a plan. Something solid to hold onto. I haven’t graduated from college yet. Not until the spring, so at least, I’ll get to finish school. I’m fortunate in a way that between my small inheritance and my brothers paying the taxes and bills on the house, I don’t need to work yet.
Which brings me to my budget. I’ll have to figure out how to properly set up the next few months, to build up my savings further, so that when it is time to go back to work, I won’t have to worry too strenuously about childcare and other bills. I can’t expect Arsen and Kol to take care of me forever. Especially given I've fought with them to let me pay my own way. They obviously won, spouting that I needed to concentrate on getting excellent grades and making the dean’s list.
They were right, and it’s helped tremendously. I have a nice nest egg, but if I’m not careful, it could dwindle quickly. Working at the rec center since freshman year has helped in saving for my future.
A future that’s barreling closer all too quickly now.
Noah
I’ve turned into some kind of fucking stalker. I’ve been sitting outside Ember’s house all day waiting for her to get home, and as soon as she pulled into her driveway, I was ready to call her name. The thing that stopped me was the slump in her shoulders, the tired way she walked. Her hesitance to enter her home.
I figured out at Kol’s party that something was up, but now it’s confirmed. For as long as I’ve known Ember, she has always had a vibrance to her. A bubbly personality.
I've ruined her.
I promised her the world then smashed her heart to smithereens.
But I can’t fucking let her go. Walking away now that I’m free and clear of past conflicts isn’t an option even close to being on the table.
Reaching over to the seat beside me, I pick up the next note and the small box of salted caramel chocolates from the handmade place downtown I know she loves.
Staying away from her has been excruciatingly painful. I know she asked for space, and I should respect that, but I need her to understand who Cali is. I can’t let her continue to believe I’ve moved on from her or that I’m interested in anyone else.
Striding up to the front door, I knock firmly and wait for an answer. When it isn’t forthcoming, I try again.
A minute later, I hear her voice call out, “Who is it?”
Exhaling a breath, I get the feeling she won’t answer. “It’s Noah.”
Silence greets me before I finally hear the locks disengage. The heavy wood opens slowly and stops after a couple of inches. Ember peers out at me with the saddest eyes I’ve ever seen, and every primal instinct in me rears its head, demanding I protect her, that I make things right with her.
I have to beat the animal back and remind it that I am but have to proceed slowly because that’s what she needs. But I can’t ignore how withdrawn she looks either.
“Can I come in for a second?” I have to ball my fist so as not to reach out and touch her, which is all
I crave right now.
She nods and steps back but, otherwise, doesn’t say anything. After closing the door behind me, my gaze strays to the stairs, where I took her against the wall that first time, and I feel a stirring in my groin.
“I want to explain about Cali. Who she is.” My eyes narrow when hers finally meet mine, and I can feel the torment she’s experiencing in my soul. “Cali is my cousin. My only living family.” I was hoping to provide her with some relief. I can see I’ve caused her confusion instead.
I want to hold her so fucking badly. Drag her into my body and show her how much she means to me. The standoffish vibe she’s carrying now is the only thing stopping me. My being here is what’s hurting her.
Tossing my plan out the window, I place the note and chocolates on the side table and stand closer to her. Not being able to touch her is physically painful.
“I had this whole 'beg for forgiveness' thing planned. Show you what you mean to me because words are just that, words. Actions can convey more. But you’re killing me, Em. I can feel your agony, and I hate myself for it.” Her chin drops to her chest, and I think it’s because she’s trying to hide her tears.
Lifting a hand, she flinches away from me, and I drop it back to my side. “I battled for two years to get a divorce from Katrina. I didn’t know how to tell you I was still married when all I wanted, for so fucking long, was for you to be my wife.” When her shoulders begin to shake, I can’t hold back any longer. Swooping her up in my arms, I carry her to the couch where I cradle her in my lap.
“When I finally snapped and took you, it was the best fucking decision I’ve ever made, and not telling you, immediately, that I was in the midst of a shitty divorce was the worst. Because you should have known. You should have been prepared, and I shouldn’t have blindsided you that night at the station.”
