Page 87 of Speak from the Heart

“I hate you,” she says as a tear slips from her eye.

“You just said you loved me,” I remind her, smiling at her like the mean bastard I am. “Besides, the other woman is only six. I think she’ll understand.”

The silent pause weighs heavily between us until reality settles in.

“But the sandals . . .” she whispers.

“They’re yours, babe. Did you forget about them?” They’re the shoes I kept the night I walked her home. Maybe she did forget. Maybe they didn’t mean anything to her.

“Why are they by the front door?”

“We’re waiting for Cinderella to come home.”

She stares at me. It takes a minute before my implication hits home.

“See, I know a fairy tale or two myself. And those shoes are waiting for the woman they fit, but after chasing her, I knew she needed to make her own decision.” I stare back at her. “Are you back for good, Emily?”

“I don’t have a place to live.” She chuckles quietly as another tear slips down her cheek.

“Yes, you do, baby, and you know it. You need to stay right here where you belong. With me and Katie.”

She nods, and the tears fall faster, and the scene would break my heart if I didn’t think they were tears of something other than sadness.

“I love you, too,” I say when I realize I hadn’t said it back to her. “I want you to stay with me and Katie. I pick you. Pick us.”

“Us?” she whispers.

“Me and Katie and you.”

“I do, Jess.” The tears fall harder as she leans into me. “I do.”

Our mouths come together again, this time sweeter, until I walk her to the bed, where I plan to be anything but sweet with her.

My Emily has come back to me, and I’m going to show her she’s my precious rose in a garden.

And I’d find her and pick her, again and again and again.