Page 90 of Healing Hearts
And so I do. I lay it all bare. Every joy and sorrow over the last two years, and I don’t sugarcoat what’s happened, but I also try not to downplay any of it either. Maybe it’s possible that I can make Emily’s life easier in some ways and harder in others, and that eventually those two thingsdobalance each other out. That I don’t have to give the negative more value or weight, even if that’s what I’ve grown accustomed to doing.
The truth is, if I can find a path forward, one that takes me to her doorstep, I’ll put in the work to get there, carve the path from rock with my bare hands if I have to. Because I know that if I step back through her door again, I have to be ready to handle it all. I can’t walk away a second time.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Emily
Amir is back at school, and it’s mid-September. Maggie gets married in a month, and it feels like I’m constantly on the phone with Lila about one wedding detail or another. If I ever get married again, I’m going small and low-key.
Except, I can’t see a world in which I do marry again. I’m back to that place—heartbroken and in denial.
Trent collects Amir from Grady and Maggie’s house or from my mom, but we’ve barely spoken. He’s left a giant, gaping hole in my life, and in some ways, it’s worse than when Omar died. Trent has chosen to remove himself, and he’s still out in the world where I catch glimpses of him.
His mom has been keeping me updated on the shop, and it’s rebounded a little since the investigation. The payments Trent was making keep appearing in my bank account each month.
Business is not back where it was before Trent was taken in for questioning, but Penny seems certain that business will keep climbing again. Word of mouth has started to spread to the surrounding areas about how good Trent and his shop are, and that’s allowed their business to start increasing there. Maybesome parts of Little Falls will never let the past go, but there are many others who don’t even know that past exists.
I’ve been to the doctor, and I’m due at the end of April. Part of me is still holding out hope that Trent will somehow understand that his past doesn’t have to define him, but the way he’s been behaving makes me think I’m hoping for a miracle rather than something that’s likely.
Although Maggie told me I’d have to fight like hell to keep him, and I was determined to do that, our conversation at the shop made me realize that you can’t convince someone of something they refuse to see. No amount of begging or inserting myself into his life is going to change his opinions about himself. The problem isn’t that he doesn’t love me. If anything, in his mind, he loves metoomuch.
I’ve just finished signing some closing papers in my real estate office with Donny, who is working part-time for Trent now, and Leah when I get a text from Trent.
I say goodbye to Leah and Donny at the door, and then I go back into my office to stare at the text again.
Can you meet me at the lake?
After weeks of silence, the message doesn’t feel like a crack in the ice, but rather a sudden, massive thaw.
When?I can’t even pretend I won’t go, that I won’t change all my plans for the rest of the day to be there. If he’s reaching out, there has to be a reason, and hope is stirring in me so hard that I can’t stay seated. I’m pacing, waiting for his reply text.
An hour? Or whenever you can make it. Just let me know.
I read each word over and over, probably analyzing what’s behind it far harder than I should. An hour feels like forever from now.
I will meet you there in an hour.
Then I shuffle papers on my desk, scan through real estate pages, and mostly feel the stirrings of worry mixed with anxiety and hope. What could this mean?
When I get to the lake, Trent is already there. He climbs out of his truck to greet me. His jeans sit low on his hips, and the T-shirt he’s wearing seems to cling to all his muscles. Seeing him is like being hit in the solar plexus, and the breath is knocked right out of me. I don’t know when exactly he started having this effect on me, but it’s been so long since I’ve felt it that I have to hold onto my car door for a beat before I step away.
Depending on what he says, I don’t know how I’ll survive this conversation.
“Hey,” he says, his smile sheepish. “Thanks for coming.”
“You thought I wouldn’t?”
He searches my face, and I wonder if my expression looks like his—as though I’m soaking in every detail, comparing it to the last time I saw him.
“It’s really good to see you,” he says.
The truth—that he could have been seeing me this whole time—sits on my tongue, and I have to look away before the bitterness creeps out.
“Are you okay if we rent a boat?”
I frown slightly. I wore another dress, but it’s loose fitting and down to my ankles. I follow him toward the rental near the dock. “As long as it doesn’t tip.”
“It’s not gonna tip, Em.” He gives me another little grin, and my heart constricts.
