Confessions from the Quilting Circle - Maisey Yates Page 0,74

be good, when she actually wanted to rebel.

She hadn’t lied or been overly sneaky, because she had felt like it was wrong. But she also wasn’t being honest about what she was. And maybe that was what had led her down the path to being such a liar now. Because it had seemed more acceptable than telling everyone what she wanted. Because that was truly terrifying.

Because it would seem random to them. This sudden desire to date an older mechanic, who had dropped out of high school. The need to spread her wings and separate herself from her family, to move across the country. It would be surprising to them because they didn’t know that she was resisting her desires all this time. That she was suppressing them.

It would surprise them because she had never talked to her mom about boys, because it had seemed like such a strange and thorny subject.

She had watched her mom love her dad in a deep, intense way. But she’d also seen how sharp and painful love could be. One time she’d told her mom that she had a crush on a boy, and her mom had looked at her with wild terror in her eyes and said, “You’re too young.”

She had been fifteen. Now she wondered if her mom had imagined that first crush would mean Emma would want to be married at eighteen just like she had.

She was still brooding when Anna pushed open the door, and Emma walked inside, her arms full of pie, only to stop cold.

The room was full of people she knew. And in that moment that it took her to identify them all, they shouted, “Surprise!”

She blinked. “Oh.”

“It’s a surprise party,” Anna said.

“Right,” Emma responded.

She looked around and saw her mom, who was hanging back, reserved, and her grandma. And there was Adam, her boss, behind the counter, as if to announce that he was here, but not really here.

“Happy birthday,” Catherine said, standing up from her table and pulling Emma in for a hug as she shoved a gift box with a balloon on the top into her hand.

The cake was beautiful, sitting in the middle of the table, and she assumed that her aunt had made it. She turned to her. “Thank you.”

Slowly, very slowly, happiness put cracks into her shock. Into the dark cloud that hung over her head, and had for so long.

“Don’t thank me until you try it. But I think you’re going to love it.” She pulled her in for a hug, too.

Her mom stood, then cautiously crossed the room, holding out her arms. And Emma leaned in.

She wasn’t going to be mean. Not at her birthday party.

And she loved her mom. She didn’t think for a moment that somehow that had changed just because they’d had a fight.

There was no point in acting that way.

“Thank you, everyone,” she said, feeling deeply uncomfortable that she had to make anything remotely resembling a speech. “Just...thank you.”

And Adam started bringing out cheeseburgers. So many cheeseburgers. And all of the French fries she could possibly want.

“Thank you,” she said, again.

Her boss was a hard man to know. He was easy with jokes, but she didn’t know anything about him. And he didn’t demonstrate sincere feelings in an open way. But he was kind. One of the kindest people she’d ever known. The way that he supported her aunt with her pies, the way that he had always talked to her mom.

And the way that he’d given her a job, and trained her with patience, but also hadn’t treated her like she was damaged.

He had helped to make this place a haven for her, and she appreciated it.

Her presents came, and it was amazing to get such thoughtful, wonderful gifts from her friends.

Each and every one made her feel like less and less of an unknowable alien. And like maybe she was the only one who’d actually seen herself that way.

A journal and frog earrings from Catherine, along with a set of her favorite pens. A succulent in an owl pot from Prathika. A giant, fuzzy blanket that Noemi, Abigail and Chantelle had gone in on together.

All things she loved. All things she would use.

It made the path back to real life seem not quite so long.

Throughout the entire event, her grandmother was unusually quiet. Emma kept looking over at Wendy, who would offer her a smile, but little else.

Emma realized that she was contributing to the way they saw her. She had hidden who