Page 19 of When You Say I Do

The inconsistencies in her behavior, the evasion... something doesn't quite add up.

EMILY

Ifind a quiet corner and dial Sasha, my heart pounding with a mix of anxiety and desperation. "Sasha, when is your grandmother coming? I can't keep this up much longer," I whisper into the phone.

"Tomorrow," Sasha replies cheerily. "Just one more day, Em. You're doing great!"

I pace the room. "Great? Sasha, it was a disaster. Last night, we went out to dinner, and I was bouncing between tables like a pinball. And William... I think he's getting suspicious."

Sasha's laughter rings through the phone, light and carefree. "Oh, come on, it sounds like you had fun. A little adventure never hurt anyone."

I sigh, leaning against the wall. "It's not just an adventure, Sasha. This is stressful. I'm lying to a guy who's starting to mean something to me."

There's a pause, and then Sasha's tone softens. "Just hang in there, Em. It'll all be over soon. And who knows, maybe something real will come out of this."

I end the call with a heavy heart, my mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

I rejoin William, who is looking at the various portraits hanging in the dining room. “Where is your art, Emily? I’d love to see it.”

I freeze up under the question. “Oh, you won’t find any here,” I say, with a fake laugh.

William gives me a look that I can’t place. It’s a mix between disapproval and concern.

“Your grandmother does not have any of your artwork? Is she unsupportive of your passion?”

I gulp. The last thing I want to do is paint the Art Queen as a bad grandmother. Of course, a loving one would proudly hang her granddaughter’s work in her home.

“Well, this is just her vacation home. She keeps my paintings in her penthouse suite back in London. Of course.”

William gives me a slow nod, and after a tense beat, he says, “That makes sense.”

I exhale with relief.

Then I glance out of the tall windows at the line of trees at the bottom of the yard, and an idea strikes me. "How about we spend the day in the woods? I could use some fresh air after last night, and there’s a brook just a couple of miles from here."

William smiles. "That sounds perfect. A bit of nature might be just what we need."

We pack a picnic basket, filling it with sandwiches, fruit, and a flask of coffee.

As we walk through the woods, the tension from the previous night begins to melt away. The sunlight filters through the leaves, casting dappled shadows on our path.

We settle comfortably on the blanket, surrounded by the tranquility of the woods and talk about frivolous things, like we’re a pair of high schoolers.

The playful banter between us feels like a breath of fresh air, easing the tension that's been building up.

“What woodland creature do you think you’d be?”

William's question catches me off guard, but in a good way. It’s refreshing not having to pretend or stress over the Art Queen.

"A fox, maybe? Cunning and free-spirited," I reply, my mind painting a picture of a clever, agile creature darting through the forest.

He laughs, the sound mingling with the rustle of leaves. "A fox suits you. Smart, elusive, with a hint of mystery."

I playfully roll my eyes. "Elusive, huh? Is that a polite way of saying I'm hard to pin down?"

"Perhaps," he says, his eyes sparkling with humor. "But there's something intriguing about a little mystery. Keeps life interesting."

I reach for a grape, popping it into my mouth. "What about you, William? What woodland creature would you be?"

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