Just the thought has the butterflies in my stomach turning into vultures. “I don’t think we’re at that stage yet—”
“You’re totally at that stage, otherwise you wouldn’t be sitting here agonizing—”
“Agonizing seems kind of dramatic—”
“Agonizing,” she repeats with a shut-the-fuck-up look, “over the fact that you’re in love with him and you don’t know if he’s in love with you.”
“Hey, wait a minute. I never said I was in love with him.”
“You didn’t have to. The fact that we’re even having this conversation means you’re serious about him, whether you want to be or not. When it comes to your feelings, you’re not exactly a big talker, Sage. Not with me and certainly not with the guy in your life.”
“Words don’t mean shit, Em. My mom can emote with the best of them. She’s all the love, all the time, but what has all that love gotten me?”
“Your mom is an extreme case, and you know it. She follows her own path—”
“Now you sound just like her!”
“Hey!” This time the color in Emerson’s cheeks is from insult, not embarrassment. “Low blow, there.”
“I’m just saying. She can talk a better game than anyone I know. Words don’t mean shit. Actions are what matters, and Shawn hasn’t done anything to show me that he wants anything but a good time.” Even as I say it, I think about the dinner he made for me at his house. About the sex, both tender and fierce. About the questions he asked and the way I kept dodging them because I’m shit at opening up when it matters.
Hell, I’m shit at opening up when it doesn’t matter.
I hate being vulnerable, hate putting myself out there. Lessons learned in childhood and all that. How many times when I was young did I allow myself to grow attached to someone or something just to have it yanked away from me with no notice or concern? It started with that damned aardvark when I was six and it didn’t stop until I learned not to get attached to anyone or anything. It’s so much easier that way—easier to leave and easier to be left.
“I still think you should talk to him. Tell him what you’re thinking. Figure out what he’s thinking. Then you’ll know if you’re screwed or if you’re both jumping off the cliff together.”
“I think you have me confused with Shawn. I don’t jump off cliffs. Ever.”
Emerson quirks a brow at me. “Maybe it’s time you start.”
“So I can hurt my back and run the risk of screwing up my career, too?” I ask dryly.
She just shakes her head before finishing the last of her coffee. “You know, Sage, it’s that cockeyed optimism of yours that makes me love you so much.”
I flip her off, then grab my own empty cup and head for the nearest trashcan. Emerson follows without saying anything else—at least until we get to our cars.
“Hunter and I are taking the kids out on the boat this weekend. You and Shawn should come.”
“So you can try to force me into having a conversation with him I have no intention of having?”
“So Hunter and I can see how he is with you. I’ve gotten to know Shawn pretty well in the last year and Hunter knows him better than almost anybody. If he’s just fooling around, having a good time, we’ll know. And if he’s not—”
“He is.”
“If he’s not,” she reiterates, “we’ll know that, too. And then you can stop freaking out and just enjoy the fall.”
I look at her like she’s crazy. “Who the fuck actually enjoys falling?”
In my mind, the whole thing is terrifying, not knowing when or how hard you’re going to hit the ground but knowing that the very laws of gravity ensure that eventually you will.
“There are worse things in the world than falling in love,” Emerson tells me as she clicks the key fob for her brand new Mercedes SUV—courtesy of the commission she got when she sold Shawn his house last year.
“I know.” Like nuclear war or a double root canal.
As if she knows what I’m thinking, Emerson pulls me in for a hug and whispers, “Sometimes the reward outweighs the risk.”
I think of Shawn’s body battered all to hell from nearly falling off that cliff.