Page 72 of Heart of Gold

Max doesn’t respond; instead, he pulls out his phone and scrolls, tapping the screen a couple times. He sniffles as he reads it over, pushing his phone toward me.

The date was two weeks after he left. It was also around when I checked my underwear constantly for my period that never came. EmilyFinch0717 instead of EmilyFinch0711. I remember writing it down for him on a slip of paper.

“You’re one number off. It’s 0711 instead of 0717. I didn’t have your email.” His expression gives nothing away, his eyes ice-cold. Looking back down, I see what I hoped I would see in my email, every time I opened it that period after he left.

Hey Martini. Are you getting my emails? I haven’t heard from you and I’m dying to know everything. Did things get better with your job? Have you been able to see Caroline? What have you been up to? I want to know anything and everything.

I miss you. I think about you all day whenever I have a free moment (and even when I’m busy). I know we talked about long distance and how hard it is, but I want to try with you. We’ll both be done with school in a couple years and then we can move somewhere together. My dad wants me to take over the dental practice and I love San Diego, but I would only do it if you wanted to live there. If you want to move to that big city like you always talked about, let’s do it. People need dentists everywhere.

I know it was only a week, but I’ve never felt for anyone the way I feel about you. I think we have something special. Please tell me we have something special. Please write back. Please.

All my love,

Max

When I look up, water leaks from my eyes and I wipe my nose. “I would’ve loved to get an email like this back then. Do you have any more?”

“Sure.” He swipes through his phone and shows me another. And another. All had similar themes. He loved me. He wanted to be with me. His messages were contrary to everything his dad told me that day he came to see me.

My chest could split open on how much time we wasted. How we missed our chance. I was going to tell him, but now I’m not sure if I should throw his stepdad under the bus. He’s the only father figure he’s ever known; he took his name and is about to take over his business. I’m just some girl he met one week and got pregnant. Maybe it’s easier if he resents me.

It’s just too sad otherwise.

Max laces his fingers in front of him, looking up at me from behind his lashes. “I thought you weren’t replying to me because you changed your mind.”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. My voice cracks. “I tried calling you.”

“I always wondered about that.”

“It wasn’t taking my calls, and I couldn’t leave a message. My friend thought you had blocked me.”

“No, my phone was getting zero service in Costa Rica. I should’ve tried harder. Come earlier to see you. Just my dad…” His brows furrow as he stares at his hands. He’s so close to the truth, he could grasp it. My spine straightens as I wait for the lightning bolt of realization to hit him.

“Your dad what?”

“When I came home and tried to call you, your number changed, and I was so torn up. He told me to forget you. I knew something was wrong, but I listened to him. I shouldn’t have.”

Without thinking, I grab his hands. He grips them and really holds them, looking at me from the across the table. The truth makes my tongue feel like a boulder. In that moment, fear seizes me and I can’t say it.

He emailed me. He wanted to be with me. And I believed his asshole stepfather. The true villain here is me.

“Max, I changed my phone number—” I start.

“Don’t,” he stops me. “Let’s talk about something else. Anything else. It’s my last night before the boom drops, and I—I just want to enjoy this night. With you.”

“Okay,” I slap a smile on my face although guilt chews at my gut. “You know what we’re going to do? We’re going to order the house wine, eat dinner, and have fun tonight. I don’t get kid-free nights often,” I tell him. “Then, we can go over my talking points.”

“Yeah, but let’s worry about it later.” A small smile crests his lips. We pull our hands away when the serves stands by our table, taking our drink and food orders. Kim, our server, is friendly with my mom, but she doesn’t spread gossip. The way she lingers, I know she senses this man is special, but she doesn’t pry.

When Kim leaves to put in our order, Max says, “So, you mentioned you have a jewelry line.”

I nod. “I wanted a specific necklace with an initial so I could put an O on it. I didn’t see anything I liked so I decided to create it instead.”

“Has it been successful?”

I nod. “I think so. I was profitable in year two. My house is paid off.”

“Wow, that’s great. What does the jewelry look like?”

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