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“Great,” Emma said, her tone direct. “I’ll meet you at Phil’s in a few.”
Emma stood up from the table and hung up the phone. It was only coffee, she reminded herself. Paul would do all the talking. She only had to show up.
Emma spotted Paul in a back booth as soon as she entered Phil’s Diner. She waved at Phil, then joined Paul, taking the seat opposite him.
“What can I get you, darlin’?” Margie came over, her pen and pad ready.
“Just coffee,” Emma said. “I won’t be eating.”
“Same for me,” Paul said, smiling up at her.
“Easy enough. I’ll be right back.”
Emma leaned back in the booth, looking over at Paul. “So, you wanted to talk?”
Paul nodded, his fingers fumbling with the hem of his shirt. “Emma, I don’t expect you to forgive me or anything like that, but after your mom died, I lost it.” He took a shuddering breath and his eyes became glossy. “You were probably too young to remember, but I went on a month-long bender. I missed her so much, but you needed a parent, and I wasn’t there for you. I can’t ever take that back, but I can do everything in my power now to make things right.”
The moment was interrupted as Margie brought over their coffees. Emma looked down at it and took a sip. It was hot, and she burned her tongue, but she didn’t care. All she thought about was that scared little girl who saw her father passed out on the floor, surrounded by beer bottles.
Still, she knew what heartache could do to a person. What she didn’t understand then, she could try to understand now. Her heart told her it was time to let the past go. If Paul wanted to reconcile with her, she would let him—on her terms.
A tear ran down Emma’s cheek as she looked up at him, feeling some of the anger melt away.
“Been sober going on two years, even got my old job back, and an apartment in town too. I’m putting my life back together, Em, or trying to. Look, I know what you must think of me, and I just want to say sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the life you had because of me. I’m sorry for—“
He looked away for a moment, then returned his gaze to her. “I...God, I never expected you to...forgive me, or...or anything like that.” He swallowed hard, a brief flash of pain crossing his eyes—eyes that held decades of heartache and missed opportunities. Eyes that looked so much like hers.
Emma’s fingers wrapped tightly around the mug, its warmth seeping into her palm, contrasting the chill she felt inside. As she stared into the dark liquid, swirling patterns of steam danced above. The surface of the coffee was like a murky mirror, and for a split second, she thought she caught glimpses of the past: a little girl with braided hair waiting at the window, an empty chair at dinner, birthdays with one less cheer.
She took a hesitant sip, while the muted sounds around her—the clink of spoons, the distant chatter of conversations—faded away, leaving only the heavy weight of Paul’s confession and her thoughts.
Emma finally lifted her eyes to meet his, finding them filled with a desperate hope. Her voice was soft but firm when she spoke. “I’m not saying I forgive you, but I guess I’m open to getting to know you again, a little at first. It’s going to take some time.”
Her phone vibrated in her pocket. Pulling it out, she read the message and gasped.
The words of the text echoed through her mind, and she let her thoughts trace back over them one syllable at a time.
Emma, I really messed up and I’m sorry for what I put you through. I’ll do anything I can to get you back. Please don’t give up on us.
“Everything okay?” Paul asked.
Emma looked up from her phone, putting it face-down on the table. “Uh, no. It’s my ex.”
“I’m sorry to hear,” Paul said.
Emma nodded. “Yeah, he’s no good. I mean, we had some good years, I think, but he turned out to be a creep in the end.” She paused furrowing her brows. “Now that I think about it, I don’t think we had any good years. He was terrible to me. Left me for another woman.”
She picked her phone back up and typed out a text.
We’re never getting back together. Don’t ever contact me ever again.
She smirked, hearing one of her favorite Taylor Swift tunes playing in her head.
After pressing send, she blocked his number and dropped her phone into her purse, letting out a long, satisfying exhale. Ashley must have dumped him and now he was all alone. Emma shook her head, not caring one bit.
“This might be something you don’t want to share with me, but has Chad ever threatened you before, or hurt you?” Paul asked.
Emma stirred her coffee. “Not exactly. But once, he grabbed me really hard and punched a wall after an argument. Made him sleep on the sofa that night.”
