to fill the holes in his heart left by so much loss?
I couldn’t, could I? He still hadn’t even acknowledged I was going to be a permanent fixture of Willow Creek. He hadn’t noticed because it wasn’t important enough to him. Certainly not as important as Faire.
That was my answer. There was no way that I’d be enough. Like I hadn’t been enough for Jake. Would I ever be enough for anyone?
Tears flooded my vision and I blinked them back hard. I couldn’t let him see. This was my fault, after all. I’d fallen too hard and too fast, and he’d never promised me anything. No, this was all on me.
“I need to get home.” My voice was gravelly and I cleared my throat hard, my head bent as I searched through my purse for my keys.
Simon stopped short. “No, come on. It’s okay, let’s go to dinner.”
“I can’t.” My voice didn’t even work that time. I made myself look at him, which was a mistake. He looked startled, confused. I wanted to comfort him. I needed to get away from him. “I can’t,” I said again. “I need to go home.”
“Hey. Wait.” He reached for me, but I shrugged him off and he dropped his hand. “Look, I’m sorry. Let’s talk about this.”
It was tempting. If any two people were good at talking, it was Simon and me. But the hollow feeling in my chest told me this couldn’t be fixed with talking.
“You’re so focused on the past it’s all you can see. How can we have a future if all you keep doing is looking back?” I clutched my keys so hard they made divots in my palm. “I can’t compete with a memory. I already spent five years being someone’s lower priority. Being second best always. I can’t . . .” I couldn’t talk anymore. I suddenly felt bone-weary. Tired. I knew this feeling. I’d talked to April about this very thing not too long ago. What had she said then? Stop fighting losing battles. My big sister knew her stuff. I gave a shaking sigh. “I deserve better than that.”
I turned to go, and he grabbed my arm. “Emma. Emma, wait.”
I sucked in a breath as everything went white.
Emma. Not Emily.
Emma.
And there it was. The truth in one Freudian slip. I really was just a tavern wench to him after all. A cog in his Ren faire machine. My first impression of him had been proved right, and it broke my heart.
I slowly turned back to him. He looked as though he’d realized his mistake a moment too late, his face stricken, but he still held on to my arm like it was a lifeline. “Wait.” His voice was quiet, desperate.
“Emma’s gone.” I didn’t sound like myself. My voice was quiet, steady, and barely there. “Served her last fucking drink.” I pulled back, and he let go of my arm. For a long moment we stared at each other, his eyes golden-green in the streetlight, wide and sad. But he didn’t say a word as I walked down the block to my Jeep. He was still standing there on the sidewalk as I drove away.
Twenty-two
I made it about two blocks away from the downtown area before I had to pull over. I could barely see the road through my tears, I couldn’t take a substantial breath, and my thoughts were going a mile a minute. I fumbled in my purse for my phone, and it took three tries for my shaking hands to send a coherent text to Stacey. She was still technically in charge of us wenches, after all. I can’t come to Faire this weekend. I’m sorry.
The message went from “delivered” to “read” almost immediately, and five seconds later my phone started buzzing in my hand. Stacey wasn’t one to put things off.
“Are you okay? What’s the matter, are you sick?”
“No. No, I’m fine. I . . .” I was crying, apparently. It wasn’t what I’d intended, but there I was in the front seat of my Jeep, ugly tears splashing all over my phone.
“Yeah, you sound fine. Where are you? What do you need?”
The concern in Stacey’s voice, not to mention her immediate offer of help, made me want to cry even harder, but I sucked in a deep breath and got it together. “Really, I’m okay.”
Her sigh was a loud rush of breath in my ear. “Oh, crap. What did he do?”
I hiccuped another sob. “What? Who?”
“Simon. Seriously, did he screw