Chapter 1 - The Question I Couldn’t Dodge
“Are you happy?”
Emma asked it like a simple question.
I looked at the rain sliding down the airport window and considered giving her a simple lie.
My business was growing. My truck started most mornings. I had friends who showed up when things went wrong and a refrigerator containing actual vegetables.
By most reasonable standards, I was doing fine.
But Emma hadn’t asked if I was fine.
“Sometimes,” I said.
Her fingers stopped moving around her cup.
“That sounded honest.”
“Don’t spread it around. I have a reputation.”
“For what?”
“Emotional shallowness. Excellent parking.”
She smiled, then waited.
That was something Emma did better than anyone. She could leave a silence open without making it feel like a trap.
“I bought a building,” I admitted.
Her eyebrows lifted.
“A whole building?”
“Most sellers insist.”
“Ryan.”
“The old station on Bell Street.”
She straightened so quickly her sleeve dragged through a drop of hot chocolate.
“The brick one with the blue windows?”
“You remember it?”
“My grandmother used to take me to the bakery there.”
“My mom worked at that bakery.”
“I know.”
Two small words.
Somehow, they landed harder than anything else she had said.
I looked down at my hands. There was a faint white scar across my thumb from a cabinet installation and stain beneath one fingernail that refused to leave.
“The owner retired. The place sat empty. I thought I could restore it.”
“And?”
“And old buildings have expensive opinions.”
Emma laughed softly.
“What do you want to put there?”
I hadn’t told many people. Saying the idea aloud made it easier for someone to explain why it wouldn’t work.
“A bakery up front. Small commercial kitchens in the back. Spaces people can rent before they can afford their own restaurants.”
She didn’t answer immediately.
I regretted telling her.
Then she said, “Your mother would have loved that.”
Something in my chest gave way.
I stared at the runway until the lights blurred.
“She always wanted her own place.”
“I remember.”
“She spent twenty years making things for other people.”
Emma leaned forward.
“She also raised someone who remembers what she wanted.”
I swallowed.
For five years, I had imagined dozens of ways to tell this woman I loved her.
None had prepared me for the possibility that she might simply look at me across an airport table and make hiding feel exhausting.
My phone vibrated.
Daniel.
Finally moving. Five minutes.
Emma glanced at the screen.
“Rescue is coming.”
“Depends who you ask.”
She watched me for a moment.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Emma.”
“You seem different.”
“Older? Tragically handsome?”
“Less interested in making everything sound easy.”
I leaned back.
“Maybe I got tired.”
She nodded as if she understood more than I had said.
We walked toward the pickup doors together. This time, when I took her suitcase, she let me.
Outside, Daniel’s SUV appeared through the rain.
He rolled down his window.
“Nobody bleeding? Great start.”
Emma opened the back door.
“Your emotional support person stole my luggage.”
“He does that when he likes people.”
My hand tightened around the suitcase handle.
Daniel meant nothing by it.
Emma looked at me anyway.
For one ridiculous second, I thought she might ask.
Instead, she climbed inside.
During the drive, Daniel talked about their parents’ anniversary party, a broken dishwasher, and a neighbor who had installed Christmas lights in September.
Emma listened with her head against the window.
At a red light, her phone rang.
She silenced it immediately.
A moment later, a message appeared across her screen.
MEREDITH: We need your decision before Monday. The Bell Street presentation cannot wait.
My stomach dropped.
“Everything okay?” Daniel asked.
“Work,” Emma said.
Then she tucked the phone into her pocket.
Neither of us spoke about Bell Street.
When we reached her parents’ house, she handed back my jacket beneath the porch light.
“Show me the building tomorrow,” she said.
I should have asked about the message.
Instead, I heard myself answer, “Ten?”
“Ten.”
May you like
She went inside.
I stood on the porch holding the warmth she had left in my jacket, finally happy enough to be frightened.
