Eyes burning with unshed tears, I empty the containers into the nearest trash can. I feel sick with disappointment. There is nothing left to do but go home. There’s no reason now to go to my hotel and put on my fancy dress for the awards dinner. I am not in the running for an award anymore. Better to just head back across the border. This day is a disaster.
I text Henry,Emergency with the chocolates. They all melted. I’m so sorry but I won’t be competing today.
Then I finally use the bathroom in the hotel lobby, splash water on my red, sweaty, disappointed face, and head to the parking garage. I need to let Mom and Dani know. Mom has called twice and Dani has texted numerous times to check on me, but I can’t face them right now. I’ll call them when I’m on the road. All I want to do is sit down and have a good cry. I’m so disappointed. This was a golden opportunity and I blew it.
Unfortunately it only gets worse. When I reach the hotel parking garage, I find my car won’t start. It just clicks, and then nothing. This is the final straw. I put my head on the steering wheel and burst into tears. It’s all too much. This entire day has been a parade of frustration and disappointment, and now I can’t even get home to put on my pajamas, eat ice cream to beat this heat in our un-air-conditioned house, and commiserate with those who love me. Now what do I do?
After I’ve sobbed out all my disappointment, I wipe my eyes and take a breath. I feel hollowed out with regret and dismay. How could this day have gone so wrong? I suck on a pinch of sprinkles, trying to regain my composure.
When I’m calm, I consider my predicament. I’m stuck in abroken-down car in the sweltering parking garage of a hotel where I am not staying. The room prices were too expensive at this hotel, so I booked myself a much cheaper room in a less savory part of town. I need to figure out what to do about my car. I need to find a way to get home. I try to think through the problem and come up with solutions, but instead I find myself feeling stymied and confused. I’m Emmie Wynne. I solve everyone’s problems. I’m a fixer. It’s what I do and who I am. But somehow, sitting sticky and sweaty in a parking garage in another country in a car that won’t start, I finally reach my limit. I don’t know anything about cars or how to call for a tow truck or where to find a reputable garage. I’m stuck in Canada, all alone and completely overwhelmed. I need help.
I pull out my phone. The obvious person to contact is Henry, as he’s somewhere in the hotel right now. But he’s busy in meetings, and he has the awards ceremony tonight. I don’t want to bother him, and I feel embarrassed by how terribly I’ve messed this up.
There’s only one person I want to turn to. Feeling guilty yet relieved, I punch in the number.
Jakob answers on the first ring. “Emmie?” His voice is deep and oddly reassuring.
“Jakob,” I manage to choke out. “I need you.”
“Where are you?” His tone is instantly alert. “Are you okay? Are you in danger?”
At the sound of his protective tone, I burst into tears again and tell him through hiccupping sobs what’s happened.
“I don’t know what to do…” I confess, feeling helpless and embarrassed by my helplessness. I want to be calm and cool and in control so Jakob is impressed by me. But somehow I just can’t muster the energy.
“Emmie, it’s going to be okay,” Jakob says calmly. “We can figure this out.”
The “we” is infinitely reassuring. “Where are you right now?” he asks.
“On the fifth floor of a parking garage in downtown Vancouver.” I sniffle.
“Okay, here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to leave your car where it is. Leave your keys at the front desk of the hotel and explain the situation. Then get an Uber or a taxi to your hotel room and wait for me. Take a nap, eat a sandwich, take a shower. Whatever you need. I’ll take care of the car and then I’ll come get you.”
“Thank you,” I whisper. I lean my head back against the headrest, close my eyes, and exhale with relief. I’m still heartsick over the melted chocolates and my failure at the competition, and worried about my car and how I’ll pay for a repair. It’s so freakishly hot. I feel like I’m sitting in an oven. My stomach rumbles and I need to pee again. But at least there’s a plan, and a helping hand. It feels more manageable now.
I text Jakob the name of the hotel where my car is stuck and the name of the hotel where I’m staying.
“Emmie,” Jakob assures me, “I’ll get there as soon as I can. Hang on. I’m on my way.”
No one has ever said sweeter words to me. In an instant everything feels like it’s going to be okay.
Chapter 33
“Emmie, it’s Jakob.”
I rouse from a fitful nap at the firm knock on my hotel room door. It’s been a little over five hours since my panicked phone call to him, which means he basically jumped in the car and drove straight to Vancouver as soon as we hung up. The sight of him through the peephole makes me go limp with relief. When I open the door, he holds up two grease-stained brown paper bags with Fatburger logos on them.
“Thought you might need some comfort food,” he says as he comes inside. I’m not sure which I’m happier to see, him or the burger. I’m ravenous after a quick shower and a little sleep. He glances around the room, which is hopelessly dated. It’s done in shades of ’70s brown and smells like stale cigarette smoke overlaid with some sort of fake lavender plug-in air freshener.
“Cool place,” he deadpans, and sets the bags on the brown fake wood laminated table.
“Thank you for coming to help me.” I fidget with a strand ofmy still-damp hair. I’m hesitant about how to approach him after our explosive late-night scene in the kitchen. I kissed him senseless, then begged him to leave me alone, and then called him asking him to drop everything and come all the way to Canada to help me. And he came. That’s what amazes me. He came.
He eyes the brown flowered comforter on the king bed, then opts to lean against the wall, leaving the chair for me.
“Sit, sit,” I urge him, perching on the foot of the bed. It’s been such a disaster of a day that a dubiously clean comforter is the least of my problems. I dive into the greasy paper bag, finding a cheeseburger, fries, and a strawberry milkshake. “Oh, this is amazing.” I groan in appreciation, mouth already full of a big bite of burger.
He takes the chair and fishes a fry out of his bag. “I stopped by the hotel and took a look at your car. I think it probably needs a new starter. I called a tow truck, and they’re towing it right now to the shop of a buddy of mine from the Marines. He married a Canadian girl, and now he owns a mechanic shop in south Vancouver, pretty close to here. As a favor he’s going to take a look at the car tonight even though his shop is closed. He’ll let me know what’s wrong with it. He’s a good guy. I trust him.”
