“Huh,” she says, rubbing her round belly. “I never took you for a coward, Emma.”
“I'm not acoward. I'm just not stupid enough to think that something insanely complicated between two people who basically have nothing in common and live on opposite sides of the earth could possibly work. So, if that's what you mean by coward, I guess I'll have to wear that label, although I’d prefer the term smart.”
“Emma, do you think it was easy for Harrison and me to make the leap? I mean, talk aboutnothing in commonon paper—he's this adventurous, athletic guy, and I'm… well…more risk averse. And when I decided to go find him and tell him how I felt, I hadno ideahow this was going to work out. Or if it would. I didn't know I was going to end up living here, and that the two of us would get married and start a family together. All I knew is that I wasn't going to be happy again without him.”
“I'm happy. At least I will be. It's just gonna take me a few more weeks—”
“You're utterly miserable. It's as plain as the nose on your face.” Libby pats my knee with her hand. “And I'm afraid that feeling isn’t going to go away. Sometimes, picking the sensible thing isn't therightthing. If I did the sensible thing, I’d be back in Avonia married to the wrong man.”
“I’m pretty sure Pierce is the wrong man.”
“Well, I’m pretty sure he’s the right man.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Because he very clearly wants you to be happy, whether he can be with you or not.”
38
The Making of Emma Scissorhands
Emma - Three Days Later
So, after a night of non-stop thinking, I decided Libby was right. I’m not going to forget about Pierce. Ever. And I shouldn’t. Here’s a man who sacrificed his privacy—which is a HUGE deal for him—and he did it for me. Not only that, he did itafterI rejected him and told him he was too damaged to love (the thought of which makes me feel slightly nauseous).
He bought me a frigging restaurant, which, although utterly misguided, was a lot more thoughtful than, say, handing me a heart-shaped box of chocolates or some edible undies when I stepped off the plane. And he could have easily done nothing other than send a private jet for me, shag me senseless for a few days, and send me home. I was up for that. But he didn’t. He tried to give me a future. And I ran. Not that I didn’t have a reason to run, because I did. Idohave a family that needs me, and responsibilities, and career aspirations. And if I left them, I’d be running from all that, which would still make Rosy right about me.
But I’m not a runner. I did run from Pierce, but only because I was forced to choose between two things to run from. So it shouldn’t count because I ran from the thing Iwantedin order to stay where I’mneeded.
My big mistake was that I didn’t eventryto work it out. I didn’t say, ‘How about you move to the Caribbean? You can write there.’ I just said no full stop and left.
He then hired my best friend, sight unseen, because he trusted my professional opinion (or so he said, but for my ego’s sake, I choose to believe it). He could have stopped there, too, but he didn’t. He’s now traded his privacy for my success, which actually makes itmoredifficult for me to pick up my life and move to Avonia, which, surely, he must know. He’s trying to make me happy even though he knows this means we won’t be together, which is really rather sweet, and it means that he actuallydoesknow what love is all about. Plus, he’s really good at all the sex stuff. Like really friggin’ can’t-stop-thinking-about-it good.
So, now I'm in a cab in New York City on my way to 2XFanCon (Fantasy Fan Conference, in case you’re not a complete nerd). Pierce will be there for another three hours signing books, along with some of the cast ofClash of Crowns. And since New York is a whole lot closer to the Benavente Islands, and I know exactly where to find him, I decided this was my best shot at getting my beaver back. The mate-for-life beaver, not the vaginal one.
You know what? I’m just going to forget that analogy altogether.
Let’s just move on because, although I look very presentable and sophisticated in my dark grey wool mini-dress and tall boots, I have no idea what I’m going to say when I get there. I’ve had days to think about it too—while I packed, at the airport, on the flight over—and nothing.
So, I’m going to have to wing it. Secretly, I’m hoping the very sight of me will cause him to rush to me, wrap his arms around me, and say, “Emma. You are the love of my life. You don’t have to say anything because I told myself if you showed up, I’d never let you go again. Marry me now.” Or some such thing that will get me out of having to come up with some super romantic, emotionally-charged way to win him back.
Oh! We’re here. Now all I have to do is talk my way into this sold-out event, find Pierce in this massive building filled with thousands of weirdos, and hope he really does still have feelings for me.
I pay the driver and get out, feeling a blast of chilly air as I hurry to the entrance of the Javits Convention Center. My heart is pounding now and I take a few deep breaths as I push the revolving door and get out of the wind. Taking a second, I pat down my hair as I try to get the lay of the land. This is an enormous building, and it’s chaotic, too, with scores of costume-clad people milling about the glass lobby. I see a folding table with some official-looking people sitting at it. A sign hangs from the table that reads:
2XFan Con Registration Desk.
All patrons MUST have a valid badge and,
for the comfort of our other guests, be in costume.
NO EXCEPTIONS.
Okay, so I don’t have a costume or a badge. That’s okay. I can make this work.
I walk over, smiling brightly as I choose a woman about my age to help me out. The entrance badges sold out months ago but she’ll understand. In fact, I’m pretty sure we’re kindred spirits. I can tell by the way she’s scrolling on her phone. Although, she does sort of have a no-nonsense vibe going with her very serious tortoiseshell glasses, short, perfectly straight fringe, and a crisp white button-up shirt withallthe buttons done up. Even her nametag reads Sloane, which is kind of a serious name. Hmm. Here goes nothing…
“Hi there,” I say in a quiet ‘I have something really important to do here but I don’t want anyone else to hear’ voice. “Sloane… Pretty name, by the way. I’m wondering if you could help me out.”
