Page 135 of Fire and Icing

“It’s just an invitation to come record, maybe explore some performance gigs. I’m not going, going.”

“Not yet, at least.” She’s still smiling, but there's a hitch in her voice.

“Hey,” I reach across the table and extend my hands, palms up.

She lifts her hands from under the table and sets them in mine.

“I’m not leaving the day after graduation,” I say. “I’m not moving to Europe. I’m not taking off without looking back. I’m actually not leaving at all. I’m going to Nashville to record three songs. Nothing else is promised to me or from me. This is just a super-cool opportunity and one I’d never imagined having.”

She squeezes my hands and then her beautiful green eyes start to fill with tears.

“I know. And I’m really excited for you. I’m sorry I don’t have a more pure way of showing my support and how much I love this for you. I just hear the wordsNashvilleandmusic industryand I picture you singing to sold-out crowds around the world, traveling all the time. Never being here in Waterford. Leaving this town in your dust. Leaving me.”

Her voice cracks just the slightest, but she’s got her eyes fixed on mine in a combination of a plea and this warmth that just might break me.

I squeeze her hands. We’re too far apart. This table is in the way. I stand and walk to her side of the table and settle on the bench next to her. Well, maybe it’s more of a plop, like a child thunking down onto one side of a teeter-totter, because the next thing I know, the table, our meal and we are all falling backwards in sort of a slow-motion disaster scene.

I instinctively cradle Emberleigh to my chest and wrap my arms around her, cocooning her as we go down with a cry of “Ohhh noooo!” We hit the ground with a thud, the table now perched on its side, the bench under our legs laying on the ground. Hamburgers and fries are everywhere. Birds start to flock around as a sort of clean-up crew.

A worker runs out from the hut. “Are you okay?”

Emberleigh looks at me and starts laughing. We both collapse onto our backs in a fit of laughter.

“We’re fine,” I finally tell the guy in the checkered apron and white paper hat.

“We’re okay,” Emberleigh echoes.

She looks over at me and we share this moment where everything’s just as it was before I brought a whole other city and a potential lifequake into the mix. She smiles softly at me and I smile back.

Then I flip over and wriggle my way out from the table and extend her my hand. When we’re both standing, the worker and I right the table.

“I’ll get you some fresh burgers,” he says.

Emberleigh looks up at me. “I don’t want to be the barrier to your dreams. This is just hard on me. I don’t do well when people leave.”

“I'm not leaving yet. I haven’t made a decision. But I don’t think I can ignore this opportunity either. This isn’t me leaving you.”

“I know it isn’t. You're not leaving yet, but you're opening the door to the possibility of a life without me in it.”

“I am opening the door to a music career. That doesn’t have to mean a life without you. And if you tell me to stay, I will.”

Emberleigh hesitates. Then she gives me a soft smile. “I can’t ask you to do that. I won’t be the one who keeps you from your dreams. What kind of girlfriend—or person—would I be if I stood in your way?”

“You could come with me,” I suggest. “It would be a fun trip to Nashville for a day or two.”

‘“And leave the bakery?”

“For a day or two.”

“Maybe. Let’s see when you’re going and I’ll talk to Syd about it.” She pauses and then she smiles up at me. “I’m happy for you, Dustin. Really.”

She says she’s happy for me, and maybe she is. But the look in her eyes says something else—she’s heartbroken. And what if chasing this dream means I risk losing her in the process?

Chapter 29

Emberleigh

In both baking and love, perfection is a myth.

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