Page 47 of Here With You

“Sometimes the truth is brutal,” Marybeth said. “Now tell us what you did to make Miles mad.”

“Why do you think it’s my fault?” They were both silent, and she could see their expressions in her mind. Charlotte would be halfway through an eye roll, and Marybeth would have that constipated look she got when she’d lost her patience. “Okay, it’s my fault.” She told them what happened, and they agreed that she could have handled it differently.

“Now what?” Marybeth asked.

“I’m waiting for a cherry pie and a quart of ice cream.”

“I can’t make it, honey. I have a hair appointment,” Charlotte said.

“You don’t have to lie to me. I’m not asking you to bring me anything.”

After an exasperated sigh, Charlotte said, “I truly have a hair appointment. You saw my hair yesterday. It looked like someone hid a quiche in it, and the seagulls went to work. Dolly has her job cut out for her.”

“I can pick up pie if you’d like, honey. Raleigh can wait for his dinner.”

Em looked at the clock hanging on the wall. It always made her smile with its bright yellow sunflower petals marking the hour, a ladybug marking the minutes, and the stem clicking back and forth to keep track of the seconds. But today, she frowned because it was just after lunchtime, and Marybeth was talking about dinner, which meant she’d had her fill of Em. “I asked Cricket to send it home with Miles if he showed up.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Don’t forget, I’ve got a world-class baker in the kitchen.”

“You okay?” Charlotte asked.

“Yeah. I’ll be fine. I’m always okay.”

“Are we okay?” Marybeth asked.

“I want to be mad at you, but I can’t. I know you’re not trying to lick the red off my candy; somewhere in all this is a message. I’ll figure it out while I eat my pie.”

“Love you, sugar,” Charlotte said.

“I’ll pray for you,” Marybeth added.

Em chuckled. “I’ll skip tonight’s episode ofHow to Get Away with Murderto keep you both safe.”

They hung up, and she sat there and sipped her too-sweet coffee, wondering where Miles was and if he was bringing the pie.

As the moments passed, she considered all that had happened that day. They were doing what they did thirty years ago. They weren’t communicating. The only difference now was she was mature enough to know she had to listen more than she spoke. It was all good in theory, but now to put it into action.

A knock sounded at her door, and her heart leaped. It was either Miles, or the girls had called Tilly.

She put her cup in the sink and went to the door. Before she opened it, she pinched her cheeks and finger-combed her hair just in case. She may have felt low, but that was no excuse to look like something the sea churned up from the bottom and spit out in a storm.

At the second knock, she opened the door to find Miles standing there. He had a to-go bag in his hand but no pie and no quart of vanilla. Ollie stood next to him, holding a sandal.

“Were they out of pie?”

“Can we come in?”

She stepped aside so Miles and the dog could enter, then leaned down to pet Ollie. She recognized the jewels bedazzling the shoe in his mouth. “Is that my sandal?”

Ollie dropped it at her feet.

“He’s sorry.”

She picked up the slobbery shoe and shook her head. “I guess we like what we like.”

“I love you, Emmaline, and I’m sorry too. I should have learned from the past. I should have stayed and talked. Thirty years ago, I left because that’s what everyone expected, but I regret not fighting for us.”

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