Chapter 5 - The Night We Chose Honesty
By eleven, Emma had sent three emails.
One corrected the claim that I supported redevelopment.
One required her name and personal photographs to be removed from the presentation.
The third went to her firm’s managing partner, with the original files and timestamps attached.
Then she shut her laptop.
Her hands were shaking.
I sat beside her at her parents’ kitchen table.
“You okay?”
“No.”
“Fair answer.”
“I might have just ended my promotion.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“That doesn’t always protect you.”
I knew better than to argue.
Upstairs, a pipe knocked in the wall. The refrigerator hummed. Everything ordinary sounded painfully loud.
“I could have handled this quietly,” she said.
“You handled it clearly.”
She stared at the closed laptop.
“I spent three years trying to become someone nobody could dismiss.”
“You don’t have to become someone else for that.”
Her eyes found mine.
“Please don’t say something beautiful just because I’m scared.”
I leaned forward.
“Then I’ll say something inconvenient.”
She waited.
“I’ve loved you for five years.”
The refrigerator kept humming.
Somewhere upstairs, Daniel dropped something and swore.
Emma didn’t move.
I forced myself to continue.
“I should have told you. I let your brother’s opinion stand in for your answer because hearing no from him hurt less than hearing it from you.”
Her breath caught.
“I don’t want you to stay here because my building needs help. I don’t want you to leave Chicago because I finally learned how to finish a sentence.”
“Ryan.”
“I just need you to know.”
She pressed one hand to her mouth.
My stomach sank.
Then she laughed, once, through tears.
“You picked an incredibly stressful night.”
“I’ve never been good at scheduling.”
She reached across the table.
“I used to call you after your mother died because I was worried about you.”
“I know.”
“And because talking to you was the best part of my week.”
I looked at our joined hands.
“You never said.”
“Neither did you.”
There was no accusation in it now.
Only wonder, and a little grief for the people we had been.
Emma stood.
I stood too.
She stepped close enough that I could see the tiny gold fleck in her left eye.
“If you stop this time,” she whispered, “I’m going to be furious.”
I kissed her.
It wasn’t graceful.
My knee bumped the table. She laughed against my mouth. I nearly stepped on her foot.
Then her hands settled against my chest, and everything steadied.
Five years of imagined versions disappeared beneath one real moment.
When we separated, she rested her forehead against mine.
“We are going to talk about things,” she said.
“Yes.”
“Even when it’s embarrassing.”
“Especially then, apparently.”
“And you’re not allowed to decide I deserve someone better.”
I swallowed.
“That specific?”
“I know you.”
I closed my eyes.
She did.
The next morning, I woke on the Carters’ couch beneath an afghan Mrs. Carter had tucked around me without comment.
Emma was already in the kitchen.
Her laptop stood open.
“What happened?” I asked.
She turned it toward me.
Meredith had replied at 6:12.
Your personal connection creates a serious conflict. Until this is reviewed, your access to project materials is suspended. We will discuss your future Monday.
Beneath it was another email.
From Alden Group.
To me.
Their offer to purchase the station would expire Friday.
If I declined, they intended to proceed with their neighboring properties and withdraw the shared access arrangement my renovation depended on.
Emma watched me read.
“What access arrangement?”
I sat down.
There were things I hadn’t told her.
Expensive things.
May you like
Her face changed before I even opened my mouth.
“Ryan,” she said carefully. “How much trouble is the building actually in?”
