Page 43 of Forget Me Knot

“Hey!” Emory elbows me in the side. “I blame this budding romance on you!”

We watch as Theo wraps Molly in the most innocent bear hug imaginable, tags her, then runs away, starting a game of tag that the other kids around them join into quickly. It’s so simple and sweet, I can’t look away.

“Look at how happy she is, though. A little romance is good for everyone.”

Emory harrumphs at my side and snorts into her coffee sardonically. “Right. Because romance has been so kind to you lately.”

She eyes my classic, black Converse and arches her eyebrow.

“It means nothing.” I narrow my own eyes at her.

“Black when you’re feelin’ down. Your shoes tell the story, sis. And you’re sad.” She looks at me over her sunglasses and tilts her lips. “Tell me how almost kissin’ Jack Jones and diving headfirst into that soap opera romance has been treatin’ ya? Seen any kittens lately?”

“I don’t wanna give up on him, Em,” I admit quietly, aware of the growing number of local listening ears around us.

“Right. He called you Dinah Belle. So everything will magically get better from here.”

“Good gracious, you sound so cynical, Emory.” I point at Molly, laughing into the open air with an adorable little boy gazing at her like she’s sunshine incarnate. “Look at her. What could be bad about that? I just want some of that happiness for myself. I want it for you and Molly, too.”

“You shouldn’t be romanticizing the situation. I toldyouto be careful.” She lowers her voice and waves at Caroline Lovett meandering towards us through the grass with another woman at her side. “I’m worried about you, Dinah Belle. This isn’t one of your romance novels. The guy has a split personality, memory loss, and it sounds like, a whole lotta baggage. This doesn’t have HEA written all over it, ya know? Despite what color shoes you decide to wear around. It’s real life.”

“I know it’s real life, Em,” I hiss, but soften as her eyes grow teary. “I know all too well about the baggage we all carry. Especially you and me. And, yes, Jack is complicated, but I like him. I like him so much.”

“I’m worried you aren’t being realistic, Dinah.” Emory’s voice mellows with quiet emotion. She stares off at the field where her daughter runs carefree from base to base. “Sometimes life doesn’t end with everything wrapped in a pretty, pink ribbon. It isn’t always love at first sight. Roses and wild flower deliveries and baking pretzels in a daze of attraction are not the norm. Sometimes it’s ugly.” Her lower lip shakes and she bites down, passing it back and forth between her teeth.

“I know, Em.”

“You see everything through rose-colored glasses. I tried to hold those up for you when mom and dad died, but I thought after James, you’d see that…”

For a moment I feel guilty about hiding my own grief from Emory, and my conversation with Jackson the other day comes to mind. I never wanted her to feel like she had to carry the weight of my loss and the weight of her own. Especially after she lost her future with James and needed to focus on Molly. But maybe it was wrong. Maybe I should have been more honest about the hard days—thedown days. When, though I loved talking to my sister, I mourned asking our mom for advice rather than Emory. Or when I wished I could call my dad or James and ask for help with the remodel of the shop, or taxes, or questions about men I feel like only they would be able to answer.

Emory, Molly, and I have operated as a team of three for so long, with Emory at the helm, I think I may have sacrificed honesty for the sake of her peace.

“I’m sorry, Emory.” She lightens as I put my arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer. “I know a happy ending isn’t guaranteed.” She tries to pull away, and I let her, but link my arm with hers. We’re sitting shoulder to shoulder, and to anyone on the outside of our bubble, it looks like we’re happy as can be. But behind our oversized sunglasses, we’re both weepy messes. “Not fighting for the future… for the outcome I’m praying for…that’s not me. That feels too much like giving up. And if I do that, I’m guaranteed not to have a chance at that HEA. Whatever it looks like and whoever it may be with.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt.” She sniffles.

“And I don’t wantyouto give up.”

A throat clears and we both turn our faces, remembering that we’re sitting in the middle of the metal bleachers where other spectators have begun to cluster around us. Caroline Lovett bites down on her sweet smile, little Ollie pressed to her chest. The woman at her side must be one of the sisters she mentioned, though her hair is bouncing in blonde curls compared to Caroline’s wavey, honey color. They’re biting their lips in an identical fashion, and she also has a baby strapped to her chest. It’s like they’re in some sort of beautiful babywearing club.

“I’m real sorry to interrupt,” Caroline says. “Should we pretend like we didn’t hear everything y’all just had a breakthrough over?”

Emory and I pause, realizing our blunder simultaneously, and erupt with nervous laughter. Emory clears her throat, and I see the moment she realizes she wasn’t entirely in control for once. She fixes her barely-out-of-place hair, adjusts her posture, and shakes her head. “Nah. She almost kissed Jack Jones,” my sister blurts out like she’s giving a weather report. “But she hasn’t even talked to him since.”

It was asunny Monday morning with a side of almost make out, then a shocking drought swept over the remainder of the week.

I growl and steal the coffee from her hands. “Seriously, Em! I bought you coffee!”

She shrugs as if she couldn’t care less, and I can’t hold back the growl. The blonde beside Caroline laughs. “So, you’re definitely sisters.” She holds out her hand to shake with both of us. “I’m Georgia Lovett. Caroline’s sister.”

“Lovett?” I question.

“Yup. Caroline and I married brothers. My husband’s right there.” Georgia points out a man holding a little girl in his arms outside one of the dugouts. “Lake. And that’s our daughter, Davey. And this is Harper.” She rubs her hand along the back of the baby in her arms.

“Georgie’s in charge of the marketing for the Badger Bites Competition,” Caroline explains. “Chloe mentioned you registered for it, right?”

“Yeah, I did. I’ve been working on some new recipes.” I smile at Georgia. “Hopefully we’ll get to work together soon.”

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