Emily turned away, hand on her belly, the baby now fluttering inside her like a coin in freefall.
“Fine,” she said. “Let’s revisit everything, then.”
Daniel’s eyes widened. “I think your judgment is clouded right now—between the pregnancy hormones and worrying about your father, you’re not thinking clearly.”
The words sliced, clean and cold, leaving her gasping. Here yes suddenly felt hot. She couldn’t even form the words to respond, her chest so tight that her vision blurred at the edges. A tear streaked down her cheek before she could will it away.
She stood quickly, her chair crashing back, and left the kitchen. The sound of the chair echoed. Emily didn’t look back.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Emily arranged the stems for the front reception desk at the inn in a deliberate, geometric fan—yellow tulips, two lengths of eucalyptus, three white peonies placed at angles for effect. She worked without looking at her hands, eyes instead fixed on the shadow the window’s mullion cast over the parlor’s armchair. Even after she set the last peony, she didn’t release the bouquet, just held it inches above the cut-glass vase and watched as a fine mist of pollen drifted onto the table below.
She adjusted the flowers so the tallest tulip faced the door, the better to impress whoever entered next. The gesture was reflex, more for herself than for the guests. She'd always found comfort in arranging things—people, schedules, the movements of her family through their days. But nothing about her interior life was in order today. She’d slept only a handful of hours, and the argument with Daniel had replayed all morning in her head, and even now her lower back throbbed from tossing and turning, a persistent ache that resisted every stretch or repositioning.
It was a quiet morning, and Emily sat down behind the desk in the lull, pulling out her phone. She had a missed call from Amy. The sight of her best friend’s name made Emily’s eyes prick with tears. If she called Amy back, would she be able to stop from bawling and spilling everything that had happened over the past few days? Emily decided she needed to hear Amy’s voice, even if she ended up losing her composure. She hit the missed call, and then the callback icon on her phone screen.
Amy answered the call on the second ring. Emily pictured her best friend, phone pressed to her ear, as she stood in a bustling Manhattan street. The sounds of the city filtered through the line, reminding Emily of her past life in the Big Apple.
“Hey, Em! Are you surviving Harry without me around to keep him in line?” she joked, the warmth of her voice a familiar comfort.
Emily hesitated for a moment, trying to keep her voice steady. She latched onto Amy’s joke about her fiancée. “Harry is the best kitchen manager I’ve ever had,” Emily said with a forced lightness, “but I can always tell he’s better when you’re home. How’s New York?”
“Ugh. Chaotic. Rude. Amazing. Jayne says hello. We just had lunch.”
Emily smiled, thinking of her old friend, a little envious of the lunch that she and Amy had just had. She didn't want to ask what fabulous restaurant they'd dined at. "So, you're working hard, huh?"
Another snort. “I’ve been here a month now, and I get tofinallymeet tomorrow with the decision-makers at the new distributor. Keep your fingers crossed. If I land this, that’ll mean my candles are in all fifty states, at high-end margins.”
“You’re going to kill it. I just know it,” Emily said. But her voice wavered just a bit.
“Is everything alright?” Amy asked, the playful banter falling away as she heard the tremor.
Emily couldn’t hold it back any longer. The floodgates opened, and she confessed all of her troubles to Amy, blubbering, pouring it all out in a rush of words. The stress of Roy’s declining health, the strain in her relationship with Daniel, Chantelle and the offer for the summer, and even the baby news. The relief of sharing her burdens with a friend washed over her, taming her frayed nerves just a little.
After a moment of silence, Amy's voice came through the line, soft and sympathetic. “I’m coming home, Em. As soon as my meeting is over tomorrow, I’ll be on the first flight to Sunset Harbor. You don’t have to face all of this alone.”
“I’m not alone,” Emily protested. “I understand that. I have so much support. It’s just… it all feels like a lot.”
Amy was adamant. “I won't hear it,” she insisted. “I’m part of the battalion, and we leave no man or woman behind. Besides, Harry’ll be thrilled if I come home ASAP.”
Emily sniffled. “Thank you. I love you.”
“I love you too, girl. See you soon.”
As they said their goodbyes and hung up, Emily felt an even greater sense of relief wash over her. Just voicing her worries had helped. She took out her compact from one of the reception desk drawers, smoothed her hair and made sure her eyes weren’t red, and patted her face with cool fingers.
She’d barely finished straightening herself up when the front door opened, ushering in a gust of salt air and the sound of unhurried footfalls. Emily smoothed her blouse, pinched the bridge of her nose, and put on her neutral innkeeper smile.
The smile widened into a genuine one when she recognized the man who’d just come in. Roman Westbrook was lacking his typical shaggy hair, a new cut that was shorn short on the sides, making him look almost corporate. He wore an oxford shirt and dark jeans, perfectly tailored but with the easy slouch of a man used to moving through airports and living on tour buses. Even in sunglasses, he was a shade too conspicuous for Sunset Harbor, and he seemed to know it, glancing down the hall as if to check for paparazzi.
He removed his glasses and folded them with careful precision. They probably cost what Emily made at the inn in a month. “I always feel like I’m stepping inside a postcard here,” he said, glancing around the parlor as he leaned on an elbow on the reception desk. He grinned, teeth very white against the olive of his skin. “How are you, Em?”
“I’m happy to see you, Roman. Are you staying? You should have called.”
He shook his head. “No. Just coming to pick up a custom guitar that the shop in town made me. Thought I’d come see my favorite innkeeper and crew.”
Emily gestured toward the front parlor. “Can I get you coffee? Tea?”
