“It’s not your fault.” My voice is soft, rough, hesitant in the dark. “I’ve spent my entire adult life erasing that version of my past, the girl with the dirty clothes hand-washed in a sink and frizzy hair who cut her bangs herself. The girl who lost her library books because she moved too often. And forgot to do her homework because there was no one at home to remind her.” The words come faster now. “The girl who too many teachers thought was a lost cause simply because of how she appeared on the outside, not what was inside. I eventually learned to remember my books and homework myself, to study even if no one else cared what my report card said.”
“Emma.” My name is dragged out of him on a shaky exhale.
I want to look at Sebastian. But I’m too afraid that I’d crumble. Or worse. That I’d reach for him.
So I roll onto my back and keep talking instead. “It wasn’t always bad. When my dad was sober, he was amazing. But life was never consistent. It would vacillate between good and dysfunctional, and then we’d be sent to live with Aunt Grace. Eventually, my father would come back for us, freshly sober, we’d move in with him, and the cycle would continue.”
“Fuck this,” Sebastian swears and then roughly shoves aside the pillows. He pulls me to him, cradling my head against his chest as if I’m something infinitely precious. “You should never have had to go through any of that. But it made you stronger. Can’t you see? You make everything you touch, everyone you’re around, better. You’re the best out of all of us,” he says roughly.
Emotions swirl. I feel relief and confusion at being in his arms. And a soul-deep exhaustion, the kind that comes after great exertion. The kind that wipes everything else clean away.
He doesn’t talk. And I don’t either. I’m not sure what there would be to say. I don’t even want to think. I know that when I do, I’ll come to the conclusion that this is a pity embrace because I just laid my whole embarrassing history before him.
So instead, I bury everything and justfeel.
I’m lying half on, half off his hard body, and though we’re not intimately connecting, our legs intertwine in a way that sends tingling awareness to the center of me.
He rubs my back in a slow circle.
A thousand times over the years, I wondered what it would be like to be in his arms like this. And my dreams pale in comparison to reality. It’s not just the strength of his embrace, the deep warmth of his skin, the soft cotton of his T-shirt. It’s the feeling of rightness.
It’s as safe as it is dangerous, for entirely different reasons.
I’m not able to get my fill of his addictive scent. Not able to get my fill ofhim.
He stirs beneath me. “Rest.”Just one word, the barest whisper, is breathed into my hair, sending shivers reverberating through the entirety of my body.
And just like earlier, I remind myself that I’m free, no longer working for him. Free of professional expectations. Free of my sisterly responsibility. For once in my life, I’m free to make mistakes. Fun, risky mistakes.
The riskiest mistake in the world would be to fall for Sebastian again. But what if I could just enjoy myself, without worry? I don’t think I’ve ever done that. But Sebastian does, all the time. Could I be like him?
Can I have the fun without the falling?
I don’t getthe answers to my questions because when I wake, Sebastian is out of my bed and it’s as if the night never happened. I find him in the kitchen, looking even more deliciousthan the breakfast he’s cooking up. At least he made me coffee. I can almost forgive the almond milk and “natural” sweetener, stevia this time.
He takes me to the doctor, where I’m given the okay to view screens, so long as they don’t give me a headache.
The first thing I do when I get my phone back is call Sadie and explain everything. Apparently her internship has her so busy, she missed the story in the news. Now that I’m feeling better, I know she won’t drop everything and fly home. She scolds me for not telling her about the concussion earlier, but she’s all for the fake engagement and my new roommate situation.
Next, I help Sebastian read lines for his latest movie, which is a good reminder that in less than a week, he starts filming in London. And this time, I won’t be traveling with him to set. I know his schedule for the upcoming year. It’s one film after another, with only a few breaks in between.
It’s essential for my heart to remember that despite this brief interlude, we will no longer be in each other’s lives on a regular basis.
I must still be feeling the effects of the concussion because once again that night, I crash into a deep, drugged-like sleep, this time on the couch watching movies with Sebastian.
And again, I wake in the morning alone in bed. The only evidence that he slept beside me, and not on the now-dry couch, is that his side is rumpled. It’s as if he’s keeping me at arm’s length.
The good news is that I have more energy than I’ve felt since my fall. So I convince him that I’m not going to expire if I start back to work. I have a backlog of to-dos, and I don’t have unlimited time or money to take a vacation, regardless of how my brain is doing. I’m on the couch with my laptop resting on my crossed legs when I open my email.
“No way!” I squeal.
Sebastian runs into the room. “Emma! What’s wrong?”
I look up from my laptop.
He has worry in his eyes and a dish towel draped over his shoulder.
“I’m fine. I just got an email from Caitlin Mancini.”
