Everything After - Jill Santopolo Page 0,76

him laugh on the other end. “Well, good for you,” he said.

Emily could hear something in the background, where Rob was. Maybe waves? Wind? “Where are you?” Emily asked.

“Cancun, Mexico,” he answered. “Just checked into my hotel. I’m doing a show here tonight and tomorrow. It’s the start of fall break.”

Of course. That made sense. If NYU had break, then so did the other schools. And he’d mentioned Mexico last night.

“Are you on the beach?” she asked. “Do I hear waves?”

“I’m actually on my private balcony overlooking the beach,” he said.

She imagined it—the sun, the sand, the palm trees. “That sounds wonderful,” she told him.

Rob was quiet for a moment and then said: “Come. Flight’s on me. I’ve got a villa, and there’s a whole empty bedroom and an extra bathroom with your name on it. More fun than Connecticut. And you can play with me, if you want, on stage. We’ll make you the special guest. You can work on your song. Let’s be the Sonny and Cher, the Johnny and June Carter Cash of our generation—even if it’s just for one night.”

Emily imagined herself in Mexico, on the beach, in the sun. She imagined herself on stage again. She imagined making music with Rob. The counseling center was open over break, but almost all the students had canceled. They were going to do some professional-development thing that she could easily miss tomorrow—especially if she was taking a leave, which she was still planning to do, whether Ezra liked it or not.

She passed by the S train, which would take her near Penn Station. From there it was easy to get to JFK. She imagined herself on a balcony overlooking the beach and felt the tension she’d been carrying in her shoulders release.

“There’s a separate bedroom and bathroom?” she confirmed.

“There is,” he said. “The villa is two floors, one’s on each.”

“And I would play?” She wondered if this was her chance to give it a try, to see how she felt performing, to figure out if pursuing music was worth risking her marriage, risking the life she’d built for the last decade.

“For as many songs as you’d like,” he answered.

Emily found herself nodding. Maybe she’d try it and hate it, and then she could go back to Ezra and tell him that he was right, that she’d figure out how to get her focus back at NYU, that she’d find a way to work through her fears and her failures. Every choice you make is the one you’re supposed to make rang softly in her head.

She cleared her throat. “Okay,” she said, glad that she’d grabbed the duffel bag that she always traveled with, the one that she kept her passport zipped into so she’d never forget it in a desk drawer, like a friend of hers in grad school had once done on a trip to Morocco. “I’m coming. But I’ve got my ticket. I don’t need you to pay.”

“Are you serious?” Rob asked, his voice surprised. “You’re really coming?”

“As serious as a dirge,” she told him. “I’ll call again when I know what flight I’ll be on.”

“I’ll be waiting,” Rob answered.

Then they hung up. Emily almost couldn’t believe what she’d just agreed to. But she needed this. She needed to see. Without giving herself a chance to change her mind, she opened up the web browser on her phone and bought herself a ticket to Mexico with the debit card for her solo account. Then she stared at her phone for a moment, not actually believing she’d done it. What was she thinking?

Music, she reminded herself. She was thinking about music. She was going to perform on stage. In Mexico. With Rob. And then she’d know how it felt. If it was as powerful now as she thought it would be.

When the confirmation email arrived, Emily texted her sister: Change of plans, she wrote. I’m going to Mexico for a couple of days. I’ll call from there. Love you. Then she turned off her phone. She knew Ari wouldn’t approve, knew she’d ask questions that Emily wasn’t ready to answer. She’d call Ari when she got there.

Emily swiped her MetroCard for the shuttle and started her adventure.

49

Emily waited in line to board her plane, still convincing herself that this was the right choice. She’d told herself that when she’d showed up at JFK, when she quickly checked in for her flight, when she raced through security. And she kept telling herself that when she made it to