Page 75 of Falling for You Again

“I don’t know,” she says and studies me through narrowed eyes. “You were pretty quick to leave him. You didn’t even give him a chance to hear what he thinks about all this. I’m wondering what you’re afraid of, and I’m wondering if this has to do with your relationship with your parents.”

“That’s why I left. No way do I want to chance making Aaron or his kid feel like I’m pushing them aside because I’m focusing on something more important, like starting a new workshop,” I answer almost too quickly. Because now that Emi mentioned it, I’m not sure I want to delve into it.

“I was thinking more the other way around,” she clarifies and I shake my head. “Well, there’s time to change your mind—you’re still married. You might feel differently in a few weeks.”

“It hurts.” Losing him, walking away from him, even knowing I’m doing the right thing.

“I know.” Emi squeezes my hand, and I hold on tight. A tear spills over and I roughly wipe my face. Emi plucks a tissue from the box. “Want to get coffee tomorrow morning?”

I nod, dabbing my eyes. I have to go into the shop, start winding down operations, and Isadora called. She’s ready for her table. I have to coordinate the delivery.

As for still being married to Aaron, those days are numbered too. I emailed his attorney. He’s drafting our divorce papers.

Chapter 23

So Long, Farewell

The following morning, I meet Emi in the elevator. She’s wearing platform sandals with a lightweight paisley-print sundress that’s sending all sorts of groovy ’70s vibes. I’m decked out in my uniform of coveralls, cotton T-shirt, and boots. We’ll pick up coffee on our way to the T. Emi will get off at her stop, and I’ll continue on to mine, finishing my commute with the four-block walk to Artisant Designs, as I always did before I married Aaron and moved out. As if the prior couple of months never happened. As if the shop I grew up in and everything about my life isn’t drastically altering by the hour.

In two weeks, maybe less, Artisant will close its doors and I’ll be out of work. I’ll also be twice divorced, or well on my way.

The elevator pings at my parents’ floor and I nervously glance at Emi. The doors spread apart and there stands Mom. She looks up, our eyes meet, and her lips part slightly in a small “O” of surprise. ’Cause karma is the mom who’s been ghosting you.

“Good morning, Meli.” She greets me as if she didn’t walk out on me and the shop. As if we all get along perfectly. She steps into the elevator. “Hello, Emi,” she says with a smile before turning to face the closing doors.

“Hello, Mrs. Hynes. How are you?”

“Lovely, thank you.”

We all face the doors. Me and Emi, with Mom between us.

Emi stares wide-eyed at me over Mom’s head, goading me to say something. I really don’t want to because I don’t want to waste energy on someone who’s intentionally making my life more difficult. Why am I always the one reaching out to her? Still wide-eyed, Emi juts her chin at Mom with a little shake of her head in a nonverbal nudge I can feel between my shoulder blades.

Fine. With an exasperated sigh, I hitch my backpack higher onto my shoulder. “Uh, morning, Mom.”

She is quiet, then leans back to look askance at me. “Did you move back to your apartment?”

My brows shoot up into a peak, and there’s a beat of frozen stillness. She wants to know about me.

Emi smiles broadly before pursing her lips and showing a sudden interest in an invisible speck of lint on her dress.

“I . . . I did.”

I glance at Emi again, and she circles her hand, encouraging me to engage Mom in conversation. I switch my attention to Mom. She’s dressed nicer this morning than she usually is. She wears a green linen blouse instead of her purple puffer vest, and she has on blue casual pants instead of her faded jeans.

“Where are you off to?” I ask her.

“Oh, to work.”

Shock morphs into relieved delight. “You’re going to the shop?” She didn’t ditch me. Finally, she can show me Artisant’s books. Maybe she can help me convince Uncle Bear to legally transfer ownership. Maybe if I can keep the shop open—somewhere, somehow—I can keep my family together.

“No, not the shop. I’m working temporarily at the library until something steadier comes along.”

“But you already have a job, with me at Artisant.”

“The shop is closing down once the building is sold, is it not? Your uncle hasn’t officially transferred ownership, not on paper. If he has, he hasn’t told me.”

“I’ve been trying to reach him so he’ll do exactly that. You guys have been ignoring my calls.”

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