Page 47

She reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “That’s great, Em. You deserve someone who makes you happy.”
But happiness is a fragile thing, and I’ve learned to handle it with care. Too often, it’s slipped through my fingers, leaving behind the sharp edges of loss. The memory of grief is a shadow that lingers, even in moments of joy.
“Thanks, Jenn.” My voice is a whisper, barely audible over the hum of the fridge. I curl my fingers tighter around the mug, seeking warmth that seems to be retreating.
“Hey, I’ve got to head out to dance class,” she says, standing up and gathering her things. “You’ll be okay here?”
“Of course,” I reply, mustering a smile for her benefit. But as the door closes behind her, the silence rushes back in, oppressive and heavy.
I stand and begin cleaning, moving mechanically. Dust the shelves. Straighten the cushions. Wipe down the counters. Eachtask is an anchor, holding me to the present, away from the pull of memories — Isaac’s kiss, his hands in my hair. The way he pulled me to him when he dropped me off at home, his lips brushing against the corner of my mouth, his thumbs pressing into the small of my back.
The apartment is spotless now, a reflection of the order I try to maintain in my life. But order can’t fill the emptiness, can’t replace the laughter and warmth that Isaac brings into my world. I want to see him again, hear his voice, feel the steadying touch of his hand on mine.
But we don’t have plans today, and the last thing I want is to seem clingy. Isaac is a billionaire, used to people wanting something from him. I won’t be one of them. I refuse to be a burden, another obligation in his undoubtedly busy life.
And so I sink onto the couch, the worn fabric welcoming me. It’s just a day, I tell myself. Just a few hours of solitude. But the apartment is too quiet, the ticking of the clock too loud.
I need to get it together. I can’t sit here, wallowing in this… whatever this is. Longing? Loneliness? I didn’t feel this way before Isaac came into my life. It’s new territory, and I’m navigating without a map.
I need something to do, some way to distract myself. Something that isn’t sitting around in pajamas, waiting for a text that might never come. I need to assert some control, reclaim my independence.
I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with resolve. Today is mine, and I won’t spend it pining for a man. Hopping to my feet, I stomp into my bedroom and dig my yoga mat out of the closet.
It’s been too long since I’ve used it, but today feels like the perfect time. Yoga at the rec center it is. A decision that quiets the buzzing of my thoughts, if only for a moment.
I’m changing into leggings and a sports bra as the screen of my phone lights up. My heart flutters as I read Isaac’s name. A text from him. Now?
A smile tugs at my lips before I even open his message.
Fancy a walk in the park with Baxter and me?
My pulse quickens.Yes.The word forms in my mind before I can think better of it. I type the response, fingers trembling slightly over the keys.
I’d love to.
It’s done. Plans made, the yoga mat lies forgotten on the floor as I scramble out of the leggings. I’ll go to yoga next weekend. Right now I need to find something cuter to wear, so I grab a floral sundress from a hanger, a compromise between casual and trying.
I pause, staring at my reflection. The girl looking back seems different; her eyes hold hope where there was caution. I’m letting my guard down, allowing Isaac past the walls that have kept me safe. Safe but isolated. It scares me — the openness, the vulnerability. But excitement bubbles up too, warm and intoxicating.
“Today is different,” I say to the woman in the mirror. She nods, a silent vow to embrace whatever comes.
A knock at the door pulls me back to reality. Heart dancing a wild rhythm, I move to answer it. The locks click as I turn the handle, releasing a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
Isaac stands there, looking like he’s part of a dream. Baxter wags his tail at my feet, excited to be back at my apartment.
“Hi,” Isaac greets.
“Hey,” I reply, caught in the brilliance of his smile.
He steps closer, and the air between us crackles with an energy I’ve never known. His hand finds my cheek, a touch so tender it might as well be a whisper. And then his lips are on mine — a spicy kiss that ignites every nerve ending. It’s a taste of possibility, a promise of more.
We part, and the world hasn’t shattered. It’s brighter somehow. Stronger.
“Ready for our walk?” he asks, his thumb brushing along my jawline.
“You bet.”
And I step into the light beside him, ready to see where this path will lead.