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“Will Olive hide up there all night?”
“Probably not. She likes to eat. Any moment now she’ll come looking for food.”
“Will this be okay?”
“I think so.”
The sadness on his face breaks my heart. Ten years of what I thought I knew comes crashing down around me, like the walls are caving in.
Blood drains from my face. I fucked up.
My dumbass twenty-year-old self trusted a man Max put on a pedestal.
I try to smile, but I’m sure my face contorts strangely. “Excuse me, Max.”
“Sure,” he says.
I don’t remember my walk to the bedroom. I push my hands through my hair and pace across the carpet.
“Oh my God, oh my God.” I slide down my closed door into a ball on the floor.
16
Emily
Ten Years Ago
“Emily, someone’s here to talk to you,” my boss Bethany said through the door. I was face down in a questionably clean toilet bowl, puking up my breakfast. Morning sickness had started with a vengeance a couple days ago, and I couldn’t keep anything down but popsicles.
“Okay, be right out.” I flushed and stood up, looking in the mirror. My skin was pale, and tiny frizzies framed my face. I’d looked better.
When I walked out to the front of Goldmine Bakery, I found a tall man with thinning hair standing there. Bethany pointed to him, and I nodded.
“Emily Finch?”
“Yes?” It didn’t feel right to shake his hand although I washed them vigorously, so I hid my hands in the pockets of my shorts.
“Fred Sawyer,” he said.
“Oh my God, you’re Max’s dad! Hi!”
The man in Max’s words was larger than life and it was so strange to see him. I never expected to meet him like this. A twinge in my gut told me this wasn’t a friendly visit, but I still spread my lips into a huge smile.
“Can we talk?” Dr. Sawyer asks, gesturing to the door.
Bethany nodded when I looked to her for permission. He opened the door for me, and I walked out. The heat hit me and turned my stomach. I could not barf in front of this man. I’d just met him.
“We got your message,” Dr. Sawyer said.
My face lit up. I’d left a message last week on their answering machine, explaining who I was and that I wanted to talk to Max but his phone wasn’t working. I had made sure my message was upbeat and cheery, but I had cringed when I hung up.
“Did you get ahold of Max? I tried his phone, but I couldn’t get a hold of him or leave a message.”
“What do you want?” Dr. Sawyer’s tone and gaze made me squirm. Instead of looking at him, I stared at the ground.
“I want to talk to him. His phone is not working.” I paused before I said, “I have something to tell him.”
“What is it?”
