Page 109 of Free to Believe
Lifting my face toward his, he rubs his cheek against mine softly. “I think that sounds just about perfect.”
Sliding an arm around me, he asks, “So, what should I be prepared for when we walk outside?”
“I honestly don’t know.” Because the press is all over and Jenna is there, my family will behave. It doesn’t mean they’re going to accept my decision easily.
Stopping, he turns and cups my cheek. “Em, I deserve whatever it is they want to dole out at me. It will take time, but I’ll win back your trust. I’ll earn theirs. I promise.”
Like an uncertain butterfly, I raise my hand to touch his fingers on his face. My first step on the path to forgiveness.
Toward the future.
To maybe believing again.
67
Emily
“Hey, baby.”
I hear Jake’s warm voice through the phone, and it sends shivers down my spine even in the warm Atlanta sun outside the bridal salon where I’m giving a trunk show. “Hi. What are you guys up to?”
“Jenna wants to go out on a date with some screwball I’ve never met. He’s on the football team. Worse yet? She wants me to let him drive her alone in the car. This is definitely not a good communication day.”
I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face. Jake scowls back at me in our FaceTime chat. I can’t help the giggle-snort that escapes. His face softens when he hears it. I ache to reach for my journal. But that will have to wait until I’m in my hotel room later.
In the month since Fashion Week ended, I’ve been on the road more than I’ve been at home. Within a week of the reviews of my show appearing in the paper, Ali was jubilantly dancing around the office as appointment after appointment was coming in for Amaryllis Designs. And not only that, the calls were for me to fly with my dresses to meet with brides all over the United States and all over the world.
I’m astounded people believe in me enough to take a chance on me. I’m humbled by every compliment I receive. Every time a bride has tears in her eyes as she tries on one of my dresses, I feel each one wash over me. They clean a piece of my soul I didn’t know I needed.
Jake and I have talked every single day since that night in New York. Even though his reception from my family has been polite at best, he hasn’t let that deter him from our new beginning.
“Where did you go?” he asks softly.
“Just thinking about you,” I answer honestly. One of the first things Jake did when we started talking was introduce me to the psychologist both he and Jenna had been working with. While we’ve only talked on the phone, I look forward to actually meeting Dr. Thurman.
If for no other reason than to say thank you for consulting with my own doctor.
My anger at Jake sharing my secrets with my family abated when I realized he did so out of concern for my mental and spiritual health. Phil—still not one hundred percent Team Jake—said it was pretty damn obvious even to him this man loved me when he begged for my family to get me help. The day my brother handed me a list of names for people who dealt with childhood post-traumatic stress disorder and begged me to talk to someone, I took them knowing that I had no excuses left.
My counselor, Sam, is sharp, dry-witted, and willing to work around my crazy schedule—even scheduling sessions via FaceTime while I’m on the road. She knows her shit and makes it a point to get to know mine. After I mentioned Jake was in counseling, she immediately asked for permission to contact with Dr. Thurman. “I won’t reveal anything personal, Em, but if your ultimate goal is to be heart whole, then I need to be able to coordinate with him to make sure we’re working together to get you both through the same trigger event that started all this.”
Since I didn’t want Jake to think I was betraying anything he told me in confidence, I asked him. He was all for it. “Baby, whatever you need to get to where the sun shines every day. That’s what I promised you.”
The warm glow that gave me, it lit my sky for days even through the rain I was suffering through in LA at the time.
Now, Jake and I are so much more open about our communication, even when we only have a few minutes.
“It’s just beginning, sweetheart. You’d better get over it now before she goes to college.” And in the next second, I’m giggle-snorting as our video shows him banging his head against the kitchen counter repeatedly.
“Thanks, Em. I needed that mental image right about now.”
“Can I ask a question without you getting upset?”
His face focuses completely back on me. “Of course. You know that.”
I bite my lip. “Is it the idea of the date, or is it the idea of the boy being an inexperienced driver after everything that happened?”
His face freezes. For just a minute, I think it’s our video connection. I’m just about to start calling out when his face shifts in pain. “It’s both, but Em? Truthfully? It’s probably the second,” he admits.
