The Rest Will Come Read online

  “So I was thinking,” Drew started, rousing her from the edge of her subconscious. “My family is having this big barbecue. They do it every year. Kind of like a family reunion, more a party for my grandparents’ anniversary. Do you want to come with me?”

  Emma tried to conceal the fact that she had stopped breathing.

  The family. The next step.

  She restrained the smile threatening to break across her face and instead restrained her lips pleasantly. “I would love to.”

  “It’s next month. Do you think you could get off all of your jobs?”

  “Yeah, with that much notice, should be no problem. Just let me know the date and the time.”

  “Awesome!” Drew pressed his hand a little tighter on her shoulder.

  “That’s great that your family gets together every year like that.”

  “Yeah, they stay pretty close. There is always some sort of drama, of course. Usually my alcoholic cousin. Or my aunt fighting very publicly with her third husband, assuming she’s still married to the guy. Crap, I’m making us sound all ghetto.”

  Emma giggled. “No. Well, maybe a little. All families are drama though.”

  “It’s crazier the more family you have together.”

  “I imagine.”

  “Are you close with your family?”

  “I’m super close to my mom and my brother. I don’t see my dad as often, mostly on holidays. We had a rough time when my parents got divorced and were never close after that. My extended family is far away. My dad’s side lives in Massachusetts. Since I don’t see him often, I don’t see them much either. My mom’s side is up in Oregon, but she kind of had a falling out with her sisters.”

  “Massachusetts and Oregon. How did you end up out here in Colorado?”

  “Both my parents came out here for college. My mom went to CU in Boulder, and my dad went to CSU in Fort Collins. They actually met at a football game. After that, the rivalry was always big in our house.”

  “That’s an awesome story. They got divorced?”

  “Yeah. I was still in elementary school. My brother was in junior high. My dad cheated, and it was a big neighborhood scandal. I remember them fighting a lot before they finally split, and we moved with my mom.”

  He doesn’t want your ugly mom! She’s just a fat dumb slut, and nobody will ever want her again. She’s going to die alone. Just like you!

  Emma shook the young voice out of her mind.

  “Man, that’s rough. I’m glad I didn’t have kids when I got divorced. My wife wanted kids. I always thought we would have kids together. I wasn’t ready right away. I was distracted. And then she wasn’t happy, and everything unraveled.”

  “Yeah, me too. I’ve thought that a lot actually. I wanted kids. I still want kids. Maybe it was a good thing I didn’t have them with my ex.”

  “Getting divorced is so hard. I’m still trying to figure out how to deal with it. I can’t imagine having to do all that while worrying about how it is affecting my kids and trying to figure out who they live with and who gets holidays.”

  “That definitely would have been harder. I try to remind myself of that. Do you still want kids after getting divorced?”

  “I definitely want kids. I could see myself coaching baseball or basketball.”

  “I could see that too.”

  Emma closed her eyes and nestled tighter against him, letting the smile fully uncurl across her face.

  His family and kids. I think he’s the guy.

  Something in her flinched at the vulnerability in solidifying the idea, yet such a tranquil warmth bloomed out of the dark hole below her stomach that she refused to fight it, rejected the idea of tempering it.

  He was taking her to meet his entire family and he wanted kids. That was all that mattered.

  In the echoes of everything Emma wanted to hear, Drew managed to become even more attractive to her. She angled her face up to his and let her hand wander around the back of his neck. She guided him into her and kissed him deeply, letting her lips part to invite him in. Drew kissed her back, somewhat punctuated, then eased back.

  “I’m sorry, babe,” he said. “I have a long boot camp session crazy early tomorrow. Do you mind if we crash tonight?”

  Emma stumbled over the rejection. It collided with her forehead and sent the blossoming heat retreating back into the darkness inside her. Clenching her teeth, Emma swallowed down the rigid feeling of outrage.

  He’s tired, and you are falling asleep on him. It’s fine. It doesn’t mean anything.

  “Sure.”

  She curled up against his muscles and jumped off the edge of her mind into sleep.

  ***

  Another five shifts passed in the next three days. Feeling like the hollow shell of a person, a machine mechanically executing practiced movements, Emma poured the coffee; she picked up the phone; she poured the beers. Repeat. And repeat.

  When she pulled up into the parking lot of the restaurant, she cast her eyes up to the rearview mirror to check her appearance. She looked tired. Ronnie and Gladys would say she looked like hell. She smoothed her hands over the top of her hair then fluffed it from underneath. She ran her finger under her lower eyelashes to clean up the settled liner and mascara, blinking several times in an attempt to widen her eyes. Squeezing in time to see Drew was worth missing a little sleep alone.

  She found him already folded into a booth under the neon of the window signs. She grinned at the unsuspecting back of his head. It felt good to have someone to meet, to feel the hints of a future spread out before her.

  “Hey there,” Emma said as she slid in across from him. “Were you waiting long?”

  She reached across the dinner table for his hand. Drew stiffened. His fingers did not entwine hers as she was accustomed to, instead remaining stiff and frozen. Drew did not meet her eyes. His eyes darted around anywhere else to avoid her eye contact. Emma thought of having coffee with Dylan the last time.

  “No,” he replied, his voice thin and awkward. “I just got here.”

  Emma retracted her hand and sat up straighter against the back of the booth. “What’s wrong, Drew?”

  “Um, well…Emma, we need to talk.”

  Emma’s heart seized dead in her chest, the last beat echoing through her now stunned mind. She curled her hands together, wringing them in her lap. She did not want to look up at him.

  “Oh yeah? What about?” She knew where this conversation went, even as unexpected as it was. She already knew her lines.

  “Emma, I don’t really know what to say. I don’t know how to tell you.”

  He stopped for a moment, and the silence between them became thick and nauseating. Drew looked anywhere that was not at Emma. She gnawed on her bottom lip and waited to hear it.

  “Look, Emma, I like you. I mean you are really awesome, but…”

  “But,” Emma whispered.

  “But I just don’t think I’m ready for all this. I thought I was. I really did. I especially thought I was with you. But I don’t think I can be in a real relationship right now.”

  Isn’t that what you asked for? Isn’t that what you were on Matched.com for? Isn’t that what you told me you wanted?

  “When we got to the idea of meeting my entire family, it just felt, I don’t know…too real.”

  That was YOUR idea! That was what YOU wanted! Too real? What does that even mean?

  The thoughts screamed through Emma’s head. She remained quiet in the booth across from his stuttered excuses. Without noticing, she had reached up and wrapped her hand around the steak knife on the table. Unknowingly, she clenched it harder and harder until the color fled from her knuckles and her fist quivered. She steadily started dragging the knife across the table, closer. With the handle pressed into her palm, she pictured herself plunging the blade into his temple. She imagined the tip of the knife piercing his face and disappearing into his skull. She saw blood start to obscure his wide, lying eyes.

  Drew looked down at
her gradual collection of the weapon and met her eyes to give her a confounded look. Emma took note of the actions of her hand and released the blade.

  “I’m sorry, Emma. I really am. I didn’t want to hurt you because I’m still wrapped around my wife. Ex-wife. Please, say something.”

  “What is there to say?” Emma’s voice was soft yet sharp. She cast her eyes hard to stare into Drew’s one last time and see what Ronnie saw. Then she imagined plunging the steak knife through his head again. She would drag the blade back out to feel the teeth bounce in another language along the wound. Her hand searched along the table to find the handle again.

  A waitress ambled up to their table and loosed a scrap of paper and pen from her black apron. “Hello there. Are you guys ready to order?”

  “No,” Emma said coldly, staring into Drew. “I was just leaving.”

  ***

  Emma had not even bothered to change her clothes after retreating home in defeat, the ones she had spent the better part of half an hour selecting for what she thought would be another date with Drew. She wished she had not invested so much time and care into staging her own dumping.

  You’re awesome BUT. You’re awesome BUT.

  The line echoed over and over in her brain until her skull throbbed against her ears. First in Drew’s voice, then in a throaty symphony of the procession of other men who had uttered the same cowardly sentiment.

  I’m so awesome I’m going to die alone.

  Emma wanted to burn her clothes to obliterate the aroma of that cheap diner and the scene it conjured in her mind; she could not bear to part with a pair of jeans that were so flattering. Even if, ultimately, no one would appreciate them. She surrendered to the cradling neoprene of her running tights and sports bra, hoping to forget the composed version of herself.

  She slipped on her running shoes, the beaten cushion of the sole contouring around the familiar shape of her foot. She pulled the laces tight until the shoe firmly hugged her socks. Then she plunged her earbuds into her ears and increased the volume until she could no longer hear her own thoughts.

  Emma ran past her pace. The first mile vanished without her registering it. She scarcely reconnected with her body until her wheezing breath and throbbing body heat recaptured her attention. She forced a deep breath and dialed back to a more familiar stride.

  One, two, breath. One, two, breath.

  Her pounding heart served to consolidate her mind. The ravaging, desperate thoughts collapsed into the exertion. She was the run; she was the music beating against her eardrums; she was the anger pumping her thighs faster than her cardio could support.

  I’m awesome, but he’s a damaged, divorced asshole. I’m awesome, but he doesn’t want to have sex with me anymore. I’m awesome, but he’s embarrassed to bring me to his huge, happily married family. I’m awesome, but I’m not as good as his wife. Ex-wife! I’m awesome, but he doesn’t want me. I’m awesome, but no one wants me.

  She scaled the hill ahead of her, stretching her strides longer to abbreviate the pain of the incline. Her breathing struggled against the gravity pulling her backward. She dug deep into the anger infecting her, wrapped her brain around it, and poured it as fuel over her muscles. She puffed between taut lips and scrunched her face to match her fists.

  Emma reached the summit of the hill, the acidic adrenaline pouring over her nerves. She flinched against the burn and stopped to grab her knees. She closed her eyes and let a shriek bellow out from the darkness in her belly, the sound resonating against the houses around her before she realized she had released it.

  She glanced around to make sure no one had witnessed her outburst. Then she sprinted home even harder.

  Chapter 14

  Josiah planted his small, fat palms on Emma’s coffee table, sidestepping to trace the perimeter of it. Ronnie looked down at her glowing phone and did not seem to notice, yet Emma stared in strange amazement as the child that had been a sleeping blob in her arms now moved across her living room.

  “Is he supposed to be walking already?” Emma asked.

  Ronnie locked her phone and stowed it in her pocket.

  “He’s not walking,” she said. “He’s traveling.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  “For it to be walking, he can’t hold on to anything. He has to take steps totally on his own. When he is holding onto something, it’s called traveling.”

  “Isn’t it too early for that too?”

  “Nah, nine months is pretty standard as I understand this milestone bullshit.”

  “Milestone bullshit. You sound so proud, Momma.”

  “I know. I sound like a horrible mother. You have to remember, I work from home. I saw him do this for the first time. Then every time after. Now I have him traveling all around my chair and over my legs all day long while I’m trying to work. So yeah, it’s a little less amazing. So here I am, scrolling social media on my phone while my smart, beautiful baby is doing something adorable, and I look like a neglectful asshole when all I want is fifteen seconds when I don’t think about what he’s doing.”

  “Wow. Sorry, I hit a nerve.”

  Ronnie cackled. “Now I sound like a bitter, resentful housewife.”

  “I suppose you are arguing you are none of these things.”

  “I’m either none of them or all of them. And hey, I am not a housewife. I work from home.”

  “So you’re a housewife with another job.”

  “Pretty much. Maybe I should be a housewife. Terrence keeps saying he’ll be a house husband. I only have to make enough money for him to quit his job, and he’ll stay home with the kid.”

  “There you go.”

  “Doubt I’ll be making my salary plus his cushy engineer salary any time soon.”

  “Yeah, not likely.”

  “So how is the new job?”

  “It’s good. Really good.”

  “Do you think you’ll like it?”

  “I think so. Mostly because it’s the one job instead of three, and it has a normal set schedule where I can have nights and weekends off.”

  “I bet. That has to be liberating. You might even get to, I don’t know, sleep. Or have a life.”

  “I wouldn’t even know what to do with either of those.”

  “I’m sure you will figure it out.”

  “Speaking of that, I’ve been thinking.” Emma hesitated. “Maybe I should give online dating another try.”

  “Seriously? I mean, won’t you have the time to meet a guy in real life now?”

  “Where? At a shitty bar?”

  “No. Maybe one of those million races you’re always running or your run club.”

  “Trust me, runners are not there to pick people up, they are there to run. They are thinking about running.”

  “Well, whatever. Do you want to go back online? Haven’t you heard about the Don Juan killer?”

  “The what?”

  “The Don Juan killer. Do you not watch the news?”

  “When the hell would I be watching the news?”

  “You use the internet, don’t you? Social media?”

  “Apparently not enough.”

  “There’s a local serial killer who is knocking off young girls, and the cops think he’s using online dating sites to select and lure his victims.”

  “How have I not heard about this?”

  “Because apparently you’ve been living under a rock since Drew crushed you.”

  “Ugh. Let’s not talk about Drew. Or any of them.”

  “While you were taking your hiatus or whatever, this guy has been offing girls just like you. Do you actually want to go back and do that all again?”

  “I have to. I don’t want to be alone. I want a family. The only way to do that is to date.”

  “And you think online dating is your best approach? Even with a serial killer in the mix?”

  “It’s the most realistic. And I didn’t give it a full try last time. I mean, I answered a good number of messages. I don�
��t even think I told you about all of them.”

  “You left shit out? Well, hell. Tell me now!”

  “These were all while I was dating Drew. I had the stage five clinger.”

  “Oh yeah? What did he do?”

  “We chatted very basically, and he was all over me. Like, I felt like he was picking out our house and china patterns. He messaged me constantly, made me feel like I was the only person he interacted with.”

  “Scary.”

  “Yeah. I stopped answering him, and eventually he went away. Then I had a guy who messaged me and didn’t want kids. I told him that was a deal breaker and he gave me some story about how the profile must have autopopulated that because he definitely wants kids. So he changed his profile and everything.”

  “Oh, and I’m sure he meant it.”

  “I was not buying it. Oh! And I got recruited by a pimp.”

  “By a what?”

  “A pimp. This nice, funny guy starts messaging me. We talked back and forth for days. I liked him; we seemed to click. Then he started talking about how clients would just love me and how I could make so much money with him. Once I finally figured out he was a pimp and trying to recruit me, I flipped out, and his profile disappeared.”

  “Oh my God! How shady! That all sounds horrible. Why would you want to do it again?”

  “I only went on dates with the first three guys. I thought doing the paid account would eliminate the guys using it as a front for hookups. I mean, why would you pay money to lie? That, apparently, wasn’t enough.”

  “Clearly not with the clinger, the profile chameleon, and the pimp.”

  “I think I need to go all in and try eCompatible.”

  “You have been thinking about this.”

  “We both know it’s almost all I think about.”

  “True. So how is eCompatible different?”

  “It costs more. It’s also more involved. There is like some lengthy personality or compatibility test. Then I think you can only contact people they match you with, and there’s some whole long process to that.”