Page 32 of Heart of Gold

What is Noelle doing here? While it’s been thirty days and I did miss her, her being here is not great. Pausing, I hear the grinding of coffee in the background, the clanking of plates.

“Max?”

“Okay, I’ll come find you.” I punch a button to end the call and pull at my collar that now feels too tight.

Walking toward Emily, her face drops. It feels like before, that perfect week, when we didn’t have to say anything. We sensed each other’s thoughts. It’s strange we’re right back there.

“You can’t make it tonight.”

I tap my phone against my palm. “Something came up. I really want to make dinner tonight, but I’m not…”

“It’s fine. I understand. Let us know if you can.” Her smile is sweet, but I can see the disappointment in her meadow-green eyes.

“My girlfriend is here. In Goldheart,” I say.

“Oh.” Emily’s face drops down to the ground.

“You have a girlfriend, Max?” Olive asks, looking up at me.

“Yes.”

“What’s her name?”

“Noelle.”

“Huh,” Olive says, folding her arms, judging me. This kid is perfection.

“You should go take care of that,” Emily says. “We can always have a rain check on dinner.”

“I’m sorry,” I apologize.

“Don’t be.” Emily smiles but I can see the sadness in her eyes. “Go see your girlfriend.”

“Noelle can come if she brings me a present,” Olive blurts out.

“Olive Jean Finch.” I knew instinctually that her last name might be her mother’s, but it still hits me like a sword to the gut.

I kneel in front of my daughter so we’re eye to eye. “It was nice to meet you, Olive,” I say, outstretching my hand. She looks at my fingers and then back up at me.

“Max, can I have a hug?” Her eyes are wide and pleading.

“Of course,” I say. She wraps her arms around my shoulders, and I circle my arm around her back. I can’t help but lean into her hair; it’s soft against my cheek. A tear wells in my eye, and I sniffle as she pulls away.

In that moment, I want to say all the “I’m sorrys,” all the “I’m proud of yous” I missed over the years. Now is not the time, but I hope I can soon, when she knows who I am.

“She doesn’t usually hug strangers,” Emily says.

“I just felt like it. Max looks like he needed a hug.”

She has no idea.

“We’ll see you later.” Emily pulls Olive close, and our daughter hugs her waist. I see a tear in Emily’s eye as well. We hold each other’s gaze.

For a moment, I wonder if she wanted me there, raising Olive with her, this entire time. The air crackles between us, like there’s a live wire about to spark.

* * *

Running my hand through my hair, I drive the short distance from the brewery to Main Street, circling looking for street parking. After I find a space in front of the town square gazebo, I get out with a deep intake of breath.

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