His Second Chance (Love Comes To Town)

The answer is a resounding ‘yes’, but as calm as Mary is now, I know things can quickly turn bad. I’m not in the mood for a public scene.

So, I start an internal count to five. One... two... three...

“Seriously?” a horribly familiar voice says.

I rip myself free to see Wynona, arms crossed as she looks at me, smiling the worst smile possible. “Wow. I should’ve figured, right?”

“It’s not what you think—” I begin.

Mary grabs my arm. I rip myself free. “Wynona.”

Her upper lip is curled. “This was a mistake.”

And as she strides off, all I can think is understatement of the fucking century.

“Who the hell was that?” Mary demands, rounding on me with her little cleft chin shoved out.

For the first time, I notice she’s in an outfit I would’ve gone wild over before, denim cut-offs with a little beaded crop top.

“We’re broken-up,” I tell her flatly. “Remember?”

“Emerson,” she says, grabbing my arm. “Please, just—”

“There’s someone else, okay?” I say, stepping away.

She deflates, staring at me.

“It’s her,” she says finally, quietly. “Isn’t it?”

“What are you talking about?” I ask.

As much as I feel for Mary, what I really need to do right now is get to Wynona and explain.

“That girl, it was her,” Mary says, tangerine upper lip trembling. Her eyes burn. “You want to know why I dumped you with no explanation? Because one night, blackout drunk, you confessed to me that you’d only ever been in love once but that you’d screwed it up and lost her forever.”

“I said that?”

She twitches as if she’s been struck. “So, it’s true then?”

I look at her sadly. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” She laughs. “That’s it?”

“I never meant to hurt you,” I say.

“Well, you did, so screw you,” she says, storming off a few steps, then pausing.

“What?” I ask.

“I booked a night here,” she confesses. Then her mouth contorts into a snarl. “But don’t worry, I’ll stay out of your way.”

I watch her go, trying to think of something to say.

But there isn’t much that would do any good. ‘Sorry’ just about covers it.

And if I were in Mary’s situation, I wouldn’t want me to make it better. I’d want me to tell the truth, as painful as it is.

I head down the hallway to Wynona’s room.

I don’t expect her to answer when I knock the first time, but I try it anyway.

One knock... two... three...

“C’mon,” I say through the door. “Just give me a chance to explain.”

“No need,” she replies. “I release you. You can go back to her. I should’ve expected something like this.”

A maid passing by with her cleaning dolly shoots me a sympathetic look. I give her a tight move-along smile.

“Wynona,” I find myself growling. “First misunderstanding we have and you jump to the worst conclusion? That girl could’ve been an old friend.”

She pauses. “Friends don’t hug like that.”

“Open the door, Wynona.”

Silence.

“Wynona!”

“No.”

“Open the door.”

“No. I won’t.”

I lean against the door, breathing hard.

“Just go away,” she grumbles.

I sit down. “Why won’t you just let me explain?”

A pause. “I’m not in a good place to talk over anything.”

I think of the many responses for this. None of them will do the trick.

“All right,” I say.

And then I leave.

Back at my room is the same sympathetic maid.

“I let her in,” she says with a suggestive smile.

“What?” I say.

She just winks. “You’ll see.”

Yeah, 10/10 I’m not going to like this.

I tear open the door and lock it behind me. The last thing I need is Wynona changing her mind and deciding now’s the time to storm in.

Yeah... it’s as bad as I thought. Mary’s sitting on the bed, her beady top and tiny shorts off and nothing underneath.

“I just want it to be how it was before,” she says, rising. “Let’s just pretend the past few months never happened.”

I keep my gaze on the wall. “We can’t do that, Mary. I’m sorry.”

“Just once... for old time’s sake?”

I shake my head. “Can’t you see that this woman means everything to me?” I exhale. “I am sorry, Mary. But you need to go.”

“Emerson—”

“I never meant to hurt you,” I say quietly.

A minute passes.

Maybe she’s waiting for me to change my mind. But the thought never so much as enters my head.

Yeah, I believe in second chances, and yeah, if Wynona wasn’t here, maybe I’d even give Mary a second chance.

But this is my second chance, and I have no plans on messing it up. And Mary deserves better than being second-best.

“And yet, you keep doing just that,” she says bitterly before dressing and storming out.

I stand there for a few seconds, looking at the door she slammed shut behind her. Then, I do the only thing I’m drawn to. I take out my keyboard and start to play.

At first, it’s just random notes, smatterings of sad, angry chords all smashed together. But gradually, they break into something else. Something that’s not sad or angry but hopeful, nostalgic.