Emma’s eyes widened slightly. “You’ve never talked to me about her. I mean, not since you left me the letter.”
“Yeah, well, once I got back to Florida, unpacking that particular episode of my life didn’t feel relevant anymore. Since we weren’t together, there wasn’t any point in rehashing it.” I shrugged. “Anyway, on the surface, it seemed like Laurel and I should have been perfect for each other. We were both on the same path. We had the same strong work ethic. But underneath, there were some core differences between us. She didn’t care about family—or at least, she didn’t care about mine. She hated the farm—”
“How could anyone hate your grandparents’ farm?” Emma huffed. “It’s wonderful. And so are they.”
Warmth spread through my chest, but I tried to ignore it. I had to remember that we weren’t in that place anymore. “Thanks, I think so, too. But Laurel disagreed. I guess I should have seen that as the red flag it was.” I snorted. “But no. I had to keep convincing myself that we were a good fit . . . until that red flag morphed into a flashing light and sirens.”
“You mean, when you walked in on her having sex with your patient,” Emma clarified helpfully. “That’s when you knew.”
“Exactly.” My tone was dry. “After I saw them, it was pretty tough to make a case for Laurel and I staying together.”
“I know that must have been painful and hard. But looking back, aren’t you glad it happened?” Emma leaned forward a little, her gaze locked on my face. “Because if it hadn’t, if Laurel had been smart enough to keep it in her pants until after the two of you had said I do, then you probably would’ve justified your way into an unhappy marriage and eventually, a divorce.”
“I guess that’s one way of seeing it.” I wasn’t sure finding my fiancée with her mouth full of another man’s dick was ever going to look like a bright side to me, no matter how many years passed.
“I know that sounds harsh, but hear me out.” She reached over and laid one hand on my arm, and it struck me that Emma hadn’t touched me like this—not in a long time. Once upon a time, I’d been both charmed and tortured by her small impulsive touches, but since I’d come back from Europe, she’d tended to keep her distance. “Look at Noah and me. He’s a good man. A really, really wonderful guy, who would never cheat on me in a million years. Once he’s made the commitment, he’s not going to do anything to jeopardize it.”
“Okay. Not sure where you’re going with this, but I’ll stipulate to Noah Spencer being a virtual saint, I guess.”
Emma rolled her eyes. “That’s not the point—but you get what I’m saying. I’m not a cheater, either. I could never betray someone I’ve given my word to. So even if we both had some worries deep down that we weren’t working out, neither of us would do anything like what Laurel did to you. We’d just keep doing our best and trying to put a happy face on something that should have ended.”
“Ah.” I glanced down at her fingers on my arm. “I think I see what you’re getting at. Not sure I’m going to send Laurel a thank-you note, but maybe in the long run she did do us both a favor. By being a cheating bitch, she opened the door for me to get the hell out—and to find the person who’s right for me. The one who works, not only on paper but everywhere else.”
Emma sat back, withdrawing her hand, a small frown on her face. “Yeah. That’s it.”
“Where does that leave you and Noah, then?”
She wrinkled her nose. “That’s the million-dollar question. When I left for Virginia, I would’ve told you that my plan was to give us some space and take things slowly. I hoped that once I got back to Florida, I’d be in a better place mentally and emotionally—and maybe we could work out something that made us both happy. But now, after thinking about everything for two weeks and talking with my family . . . I don’t know. Maybe it’s just better to go back to being friends.”
I shifted a little on the sofa. “Is that even possible? Could you be friends with someone after you . . . I mean, wouldn’t it be uncomfortable?”
One side of Emma’s mouth twitched. “I’m sure it would be at first, but Noah and I have a strong enough base that I think—I hope—we could manage it.” She flipped her hands over. “Look at you and me. We were together once, briefly, and then we weren’t. And we’re friends now.” She paused. “Aren’t we?”
Maybethiswas the million-dollar question. I wasn’t sure I was ready to be friend-zoned by Emma, especially if she was going to end her relationship with Noah. For me, the prospect of her being available again loomed like a shiny promise on the horizon.
But that probably wasn’t what she needed to hear at the moment, so I forced a smile. “Sure we are. When you’re not being obstinate, anyway.”
“Me?” She pointed to her chest, her eyes as round as saucers. “I’mthe obstinate one? Good God, Deacon, you could give a pack of donkeys lessons when it comes to being stubborn. I’m all peace and love and flowers. I’m the most easy-going woman I know.” She sank her teeth into her bottom lip, letting me know she was trying hard not to smirk at her own ridiculous words.
“Ha. Yeah, you’re right, Em. You’re not at all strong-willed and pigheaded.” I stood up. “And on that note, I’m going to hit the road and let you get some sleep, because I’m pretty sure you’re having delusions out of exhaustion.”
She rose, too, wrapping her arms around her middle. “Thanks again, Deacon, for taking care of my garden tonight. And for being here when I got home.” She fidgeted a little, rolling her toes across the braided rug spread over the wood floor. “I was afraid it was going to seem a little lonely after being with my family for weeks, but seeing you, talking to you . . . that made the transition a little easier.”
I spread my hands. “That’s why I’m here—to make your life easier.”
Emma pretended to gag. “Now who’s having hallucinations? All you’ve done since the day I got here was complicate my life. And you weren’t even in the country at that point.” She shook her head. “That’s real talent.”
Chuckling, I ambled toward her front door. “Maybe that’s true, Emma. But if it is, you have to ask yourself one question.” I paused and turned to face her. “Are you the type of woman who wants easy? Or can a little complication be fun? Maybe my kind of complicated is exactly what you need.”
Before she could respond, I turned the knob and stepped through the door, tossing my last words over my shoulder.
“Good night, Emma. Thanks for the tour and the water. See you on Monday—and not before.”
4
Emma
“Have I told you how happy I am that you’re back at work?” Darcy, one of our two nurse practitioners on the oncology wing at St. Agnes, smiled at me as we both sat behind the desk at the nurses’ station. “We did okay while you were on vacation, but it just felt like something important was missing. You make the oncology floor a little nicer place to be.”
