Текст книги "If Only Forever"

Out the window of the diner, Emily could see that a tree was being raised in the center of town. In all the excitement she’d completely forgotten about the town Christmas tree; it was raised the day after Thanksgiving every year. She’d gone to watch it as a child whenever the family had been in Sunset Harbor for a winter vacation. She recalled that there was also an annual tree lighting that took place in the evening.

“We should go and see the tree being lit tonight,” Emily said.

Chantelle looked up from her notepad, which was now filled with a long bullet point list written in her scrawling handwriting. “Can we?” She looked excited.

“Of course,” Emily said. “But first we should get our own tree. If the town has one, the inn ought to have one as well. What do you think about that, Chantelle?”

Emily felt her own excitement grow as she realized that the inn would accommodate an enormous Christmas tree. As a child their father had only ever gotten a small one for the living room, since they were only ever vacationing in the house. But now that it was her home she could put an enormous ten-foot tree in the foyer. Maybe even fifteen-foot! She and Chantelle could decorate it together, using a stepladder to reach the top branches. The thought filled her with childish anticipation.

“Can we, Daddy?” Chantelle asked Daniel, who was sitting rather quietly as he munched on his pancakes. “Can we get a Christmas tree?”

Daniel nodded. “Sure.”

“And then go to the tree lighting in town?”

“Uh-huh.”

Emily frowned, wondering what Daniel was thinking, why the thought of such a delightful family outing wasn’t filling him with joy like it did her and Chantelle. Daniel was as much a mystery to her as ever, even though she now had a ring on her finger and was more than ready to commit to him forever. She wondered if she’d ever really know what was going on in his head, or if even, when she became Mrs. Daniel Morey, she’d still be left wondering.

CHAPTER THREE

Dory’s Christmas Tree Farm was a short drive away on the outskirts of Sunset Harbor. The family drove together in Daniel’s rusty red pickup truck. There were still patches of Thanksgiving Day’s snow on the banks, and as they drove past Emily touched the ring on her finger, remembering the snow that had fallen around her as Daniel proposed.

They pulled up into the makeshift parking lot and all hopped out of the truck. There were many families here; clearly everyone had the same idea. Parents milled around while their children ran excitedly about the place, threading through the lines of trees.

Instead of Dory, it was a young girl on the cusp of teenagehood who greeted them. She introduced herself as Grace, Dory’s daughter, and she had the same wispy blond hair as Chantelle. She was wearing a fanny pack stuffed with dollar bills and a paper pad to write receipts.

“These are the trees ready for harvest,” she said, smiling confidently, gesturing out to the field of pines. “They’ve all been growing for about seven to nine years.” She grinned down at Chantelle. “So they’re about your age, am I right?”

Chantelle nodded shyly.

“Once you find the tree you like,” Grace continued, “cut it down and take it to the loading area. My dad will ride you and the tree back in the wagon to the baler, wrap it all up, and then you can pay me. We also sell hot chocolate and toasted chestnuts if you want something to keep you warm while you walk.”

Emily bought them each a hot chocolate in a Styrofoam cup and a bag of chestnuts to share, and then they headed for the fields. Chantelle rushed ahead, more excited than Emily had ever seen her.

The smell of pine was powerful, awakening that Christmas feeling inside of Emily. She was excited by the prospect of her first Christmas with Daniel and Chantelle, with her family beside the hearth. It would be the first of many.

She and Daniel walked hand in hand, silently trailing behind Chantelle. Then Emily leaned into Daniel.

“How old do you think Grace is?” she asked.

“Eleven, twelve,” Daniel guessed. “Why?”

“No reason,” Emily replied. “She just reminds me of Chantelle. Made me think about what she’ll be like as she gets older.”

Up ahead, Chantelle ran along the paths between the trees, stopping to assess their height, the density of their branches, and the lushness of their color before moving on to the next one. Emily could easily imagine her as an older child, clipboard in hand, working her first job to earn pocket money.

But as she wondered about the future, Emily felt her mind being pulled back into the past. Chantelle, who reminded her so much of Charlotte, also reminded her of the loss of Charlotte, of the fact that her sister never got to grow up, that she never got to have a job during winter vacation. She had skipped through this very farm all those years ago, full of promise and potential, and then without warning her life had been snuffed out in the blink of an eye.

Emily looked ahead at Chantelle, and as she did so, the child morphed into Charlotte. Then Emily felt herself shrinking, until she was inhabiting a child-sized body. Her hands were suddenly swaddled with mittens. Snow began falling around her, clinging to the branches of the pine trees. Emily reached out with her small, mittened hand and shook one of the branches. A snow cloud puffed into the air, and the fine white powder dispersed. Up ahead, Charlotte was laughing, carefree and happy, her warm breath coiling through the air. She was wearing mittens too, and her favorite bright red boots looked stark against the backdrop of white.

Emily watched Charlotte stop beneath the tallest tree in the whole farm and gaze up with wonderment.

“I want this one!” the little girl cried.

Emily rushed toward her, kicking up snow in her haste. When she reached Charlotte’s side, she too gazed up at the enormous tree. It was astounding, so tall she could hardly see the top.

The crunching of footsteps in the snow made Emily tear her gaze from the tree and turn to look over her shoulder. There, stomping through the snow in large strides, was her dad.

“You girls need to slow down,” he panted as he drew up beside them. “I almost lost you.”

“We found the tree!” Emily cried with excitement.

Charlotte joined in, jumping and pointing up.

“That’s a bit big,” Roy said.

He looked tired today. Depressed. There were dark circles beneath his eyes.

“It’s not too big,” Emily said. “The ceilings are very high.”

Charlotte, as always, followed her sister’s lead. “It’s not too big! Please can we get it, Daddy?”

Roy Mitchell rubbed a hand over his face with exasperation. “Don’t test my patience, Charlotte,” he snapped. “Choose something smaller.”

Emily saw Charlotte recoil. Neither of them liked to anger their father and neither could understand how they had. It seemed like the smallest of things annoyed him these days. He was always distracted by something or other, always looking over his shoulder at shadows only he could see.

But Emily’s main concern was Charlotte. Always Charlotte. The little girl looked like she was on the brink of tears. Emily slipped her mittened hand into hers.

“This way,” she cried brightly. “There are smaller trees over here!”

And just like that, Charlotte cheered up, comforted by her older sister. They ran off through the snow together, leaving their frowning, distracted father to chase after them.

Just then, Emily snapped back into the present day. The snow of the past was no longer falling on the present, the Christmas trees of decades earlier felled and replaced with these new, young trees. She was back to the here and now but it took her a moment to reorient herself with her surroundings, to see Chantelle standing before her rather than Charlotte.

During Emily’s blackout, they’d manage to walk deep into the depths of the field. Here, the trees were so tall they cast shadows over everything, blocking out daylight. Emily shuddered, feeling colder now that the winter sun was hidden.

Up ahead, Chantelle was gazing at the tallest tree on the whole farm. It was at least fifteen feet tall.

“This is the one!” she cried, grinning from ear to ear.

Emily smiled. She wasn’t going to be like her father, dashing a child’s spirits. If Chantelle wanted the tallest tree on the farm, she was going to get it.

She walked up beside her and craned her head to see the top of the tree. Just like when she was a child, the tree seemed majestic to her.

“That’s the one,” Emily agreed.

Chantelle clapped in delight. Daniel looked somewhat disapproving of the elaborate choice, Emily thought, but he didn’t challenge them. He leaned down and helped Chantelle make the first cut with the ax. Emily watched them, father and daughter smiling and laughing together, and felt warm joy spread through her.

Daniel passed the ax to Emily so she too could take a turn chopping, and then they went round in circles, taking it in turns, cooperating. When the tree fell they all cheered.

Grace’s dad arrived with the wagon.

“Wow, this is quite a whopper you’ve chosen,” he joked with Chantelle as she attempted to help lift the enormous tree into the wagon.

“It was the tallest one I could find!” Chantelle said, grinning.

The family climbed into the back of the wagon and snuggled up together. The wheels of the wagon turned and they began the slow journey back to the farm entrance.

“I lost you for a moment back there,” Daniel said to Emily as they rode. “You had another flashback?”

Emily nodded. The memory had left her shaken. Seeing Charlotte’s crestfallen expression, hearing the sharpness of her father’s tone. Even then he was a man with a lot on his mind. She wondered if it had been something to do with Antonia, the woman he’d been having an affair with, or their mother, who was back at home in New York, or something else altogether. Though Emily was convinced now that her father was still alive out there, Roy was as much a mystery to her as ever.

“I keep remembering more and more things about my dad,” Emily confessed. “Ever since I found those letters. I wish I knew what made him run away. I always thought that something sudden must have happened when I was a teenager, but I think he was troubled by something way before then. For as far back as my memories go, to be honest. Every time I flash back and see him I can see the trouble in his eyes.”

Daniel held her close. It felt good to be comforted by him, to be close again. He’d seemed so distant back at Joe’s Diner.

“Sorry if I was a bit quiet back there,” Daniel said, as if reading her mind. “The holidays bring back memories for me too.”

“They do?” Emily asked gently. “What kind of memories?”

It was so rare for Daniel to open up to her that she took every opportunity to encourage him.

“This might come as a bit of a surprise to you, but I’m actually Jewish,” Daniel said. “My dad wasn’t, though. He was Christian. We celebrated Christmas and Hanukkah while he was still at home, but when he left he took Christmas with him. Mom would only celebrate Hanukkah. Once me and my dad were back in touch, he would only celebrate Christmas at his house. It was odd. A pretty weird way of growing up, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

“That sounds tough,” Emily soothed, trying to hide her surprise that Daniel was in fact Jewish. She wondered what else she didn’t know about him and was gripped with a sudden anguish over how they would raise the children, if there were to be any children. She would of course love to celebrate both but Daniel seemed to be holding traumatic memories about the holidays that might make it a little harder to approach.

They rode back to the entrance of the farm, where they paid the plucky and cheerful Grace while waiting for their tree to be put through the baling machine.

Emily was glad to be creating new, happy memories with her family. But at the back of her mind, she couldn’t stop wondering about her father, about what was going on with him, what secrets he’d been keeping. But most of all, she wondered where he was now and if there was any way she would ever be able to trace him.

*

Back in the B&B, Emily and Daniel maneuvered the tree into position in the foyer. There were a few guests relaxing in the living room and they came out to watch with excitement as the enormous tree was raised.

Emily recalled the heap of boxes containing her dad’s old ornaments stored in the attic and rushed off to fetch them. Then she and Chantelle sat together at the kitchen table, sorting through all the ornaments.

“This is so pretty,” Chantelle said, holding up a glass reindeer.

Emily smiled to herself at the sight of it, recalling how she and Charlotte had pooled together their pocket money to buy it, and how they had then saved up every year to buy more, adding to their collection until they had enough to represent each of one of Santa’s reindeers. Then Charlotte had marked each one so they’d be able to tell them apart.

Emily took the glass reindeer from Chantelle’s hands and checked its hoof. There was a little scratch mark that looked like it might have been a D for Donner, though it could just as easily have been a B for Blitzen. She smiled to herself.

“There’s a whole set in here,” Emily said, looking at the tangle of fairy lights. “Somewhere.”

They rummaged around until they’d found every single one of Santa’s reindeer, including Rudolph with his red nose painted on by Charlotte with nail polish. Emily felt a tug of emotion as she recalled that they’d never gotten around to buying the Santa and sleigh ornaments – the last on their list and the most expensive – because Charlotte had died before they’d saved up enough money.

“Look at this!” Chantelle cried, breaking into Emily’s thoughts by waving a grubby, felt polar bear in front of her face.

“Percy!” Emily cried, taking it from Chantelle’s hands. “Percy the polar bear!” She laughed to herself, delighted she could pluck such an obscure memory from her mind. She had lost so many of them, and yet she could retrieve them still. It gave her hope for unraveling the mysteries of her past.

She and Chantelle sorted through all the decorations, selecting all the ones they wanted to use and carefully putting away the others. By the time they were finished and ready to add them to the tree, it had grown dark outside.

Daniel lit a fire in the fireplace and its soft orange glow spilled out into the foyer as the family began decorating the tree. One by one, Chantelle carefully placed each of her selected decorations onto the tree, with the kind of precision and care Emily had grown to recognize in the child. It was like she was savoring every moment, carefully storing a new set of memories to replace the terrible ones from her younger years.

Finally it was time to put the angel on the top. Chantelle had spent a long time choosing which decoration would be given the prime position and had eventually chosen a fabric, hand-knitted angel over a robin, a star, and a fat, cuddly snowman.

“Are you ready?” Daniel asked Chantelle as he stood at the bottom of the stepladder. “I’m going to have to carry you up so you can reach the top.”

“I get to put the angel on the top?” Chantelle said, wide-eyed.

Emily laughed. “Of course! The youngest always gets to do it.”

She watched Chantelle clamber onto Daniel’s back, the angel clutched tightly in her hands so she wouldn’t drop it. Then slowly, one step at a time, Daniel carried her to the top. Together they stretched out and Chantelle popped the decoration onto the tall tip of the tree.

The second the angel sat atop the tree, Emily had a sudden flashback. It came on so quickly she began to breathe rapidly, panicked by the abrupt shift from her bright, warm inn to the colder, darker one of thirty years prior.

Emily was looking up at Charlotte as she placed the angel they’d spent all day making onto the tree. Her dad was holding Charlotte aloft, who at this point in time was a chubby toddler, and he wobbled slightly from the numerous sherries he’d drunk that day. Emily remembered a sudden, overwhelming emotion of fear. Fear that her tipsy father would drop Charlotte onto the hard hearth. Emily was five years old and it was the first time she’d really understood the concept of death.

Emily returned to the present day with a gasp to find her hand pressed against the wall as she steadied herself. She was hyperventilating and Daniel was there beside her, his hand on her back.

“Emily?” he asked with concern. “What happened? Another memory?”

She nodded, finding herself unable to speak. The memory had been so vivid and so terrifying, despite her knowledge that no harm had befallen Charlotte that winter evening. She cherished most of her recovered memories but that one had felt sinister, ominous, like a sign of the dark things to come.

Daniel continued rubbing Emily’s back as she made a concerted effort to slow her breathing back to normal. Chantelle looked up at her, worried, and it was the child’s face that finally brought Emily out of the grips of her memories.

“I’m sorry, it’s fine,” she said, feeling a little embarrassed to have worried everyone so much.

She looked up at the angel, at the sequined dress she wore. It had taken her and Charlotte hours to glue all those individual sequins onto the fabric. Now, with the ebbing firelight coming from the living room, they sparkled like rainbows. Emily thought it almost looked as though they were winking at her. Not for the first time, she felt Charlotte’s presence close by, communicating love, peace, and forgiveness. Emily tried to hold onto the feeling of her spirit, to take comfort from it.

“We should head off to the town square,” Emily said, finally. “We don’t want to miss the tree lighting.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Daniel asked, looking concerned.

Emily smiled. “I am. I promise.”

But her assertions didn’t seem to wash with Daniel. She could feel him watching her out of the corner of his eye the whole time they were wrapping up in their warm clothes. But he didn’t question or challenge her further, and so the family got into the pickup truck and headed into town.

CHAPTER FOUR

Despite the biting cold, the whole of Sunset Harbor had congregated in the town square to watch the tree lighting. Even Colin Magnum, the man who was renting the carriage house for the month, was there, enjoying the festivities. Karen from the convenience store handed out freshly baked cinnamon rolls, while Cynthia Jones walked around with flasks of hot chocolate. Emily took the drinks and food gratefully, feeling the warmth seep into her stomach as she consumed them, and watched Chantelle playing happily with her friends.

Amongst the crowds, Emily spotted Trevor Mann. Once, the sight of him would have filled her with dread; they had been enemies the moment Trevor had decided to make it his life’s mission to kick Emily out of the inn. But that had all changed over the last month when he’d discovered he had an inoperable brain tumor. Far from being Emily’s enemy, Trevor was now her closest ally. He’d paid all of her back taxes – hundreds of thousands of dollars’ worth – and now welcomed her into his home on a regular basis for coffee and cake. It pained Emily to see him suffering. Every time she saw him he seemed more frail, more in the grips of illness.

Emily approached him now. When he saw her, his face lit up.

“How are you?” Emily asked, embracing him. He felt thinner, his bones protruding sharply into her as they hugged.

“As well as can be expected,” Trevor replied, lowering his gaze.

It shocked Emily to see him this way, to see him looking frail and defeated.

“Is there anything you need help with?” she asked, softly, keeping her voice hushed so as not to embarrass the man’s pride.

Trevor shook his head, just as Emily expected him to. It wasn’t in his nature to accept help. But it wasn’t in her nature to accept no for an answer.

“Chantelle’s been making snowflake chain decorations,” she said. “They’re just bits of glitter paper really but she’s really proud and wants all the neighbors to have one. Okay if we come by and drop one off tomorrow?”

It was a sly trick, but Trevor fell for it.

“Well, I suppose we may as well have some tea and cake,” he said. “If you’re already coming around, that is.”

Emily smiled to herself. There were ways through Trevor’s armor, and she resolved then to visit her neighbor at the next available opportunity.

“Anyway, I was hoping to see you here,” Trevor said, taking her hand in his. He was so cold, Emily noted, and his skin had a clammy feel. There was a sheen of sweat on his brow. “I have something for you,” he continued.

“What’s that?” Emily asked as he produced a piece of paper from his pocket.

“Blueprints,” Trevor said. “Of your house. I was going through my attic, trying to get everything sorted for… well, you know what for.” His voice grew quiet. “I’m not sure how they got mixed up in my things but I thought you might want them. They were drawn up by your father and his attorney, you see, and I know how much you want things regarding your father.”

“I do,” Emily stammered, taking the paper from his hands.

She gazed down at the faded pencil drawing. They were architect’s plans. She gasped as she realized that the plans were for entire property, including the swimming pool in the outhouse, the one that Charlotte had drowned in. A lump formed in Emily’s throat. She folded the paper quickly and shoved it into her bag.

“Thank you, Trevor,” she said. “I’ll look at that later.”

They parted ways and Emily rejoined Daniel and Chantelle.

“What did Trevor want?” Daniel asked.

“Nothing,” Emily said, shaking her head. She wasn’t ready to talk about it yet; she was still reeling from the experience. The paper seemed to beckon to her in her bag. Could it be another piece of the puzzle that explained her father’s disappearance?

Just then, the countdown for the lights began. Emily’s mind swirled with memories of being here as a child, a preteen, a teenager. She seemed to pass through all those forgotten moments, year on year. Some contained Charlotte, alive and smiling, but many more did not; many were just her and her father, sinking more deeply into depression and distraction.

Then white lights burst from the tree and everyone began to whoop and cheer. Emily was pulled back into the present day, her heart racing.

“Are you okay?” Daniel asked, concerned. “You keep blacking out.”

Emily nodded to reassure him, but she was trembling. Her mind seemed frantic. All these memories were suddenly resurfacing and she wondered if they’d been triggered by the discovery that her father was indeed alive. It was as if her mind had decided that she could now reach back into the past and remember her father because she wouldn’t be consumed with grief in doing so. Perhaps, if Emily were patient enough, she’d recover a memory that would help her in her quest to find him, something that would tell her exactly where he was hiding.

*

Exhausted from their evening of fun, Emily and Daniel tucked Chantelle into bed as soon as they arrived home. Chantelle asked for a story to be read to her and Emily obliged. But once the story was over, Chantelle seemed pensive.

“What’s wrong?” Emily asked.

“I was thinking about my mom,” Chantelle said.

“Oh.” Emily felt her stomach tighten at the thought of Sheila, back in Tennessee. “What about her, sweetie?”

Chantelle looked at Emily with her wide, blue eyes. “Will you protect me from her?”

Emily’s heart clenched. “Of course.”

“Promise,” Chantelle said in a desperate, pleading voice. “Promise me she won’t come back.”

Emily held her tight. She couldn’t promise because she didn’t know how the legal challenge to Sheila’s guardianship would go.

“I will do everything I possibly can,” Emily said, hoping her words would be enough to soothe the terrified child.

Chantelle lay back, her head on the pillow, blond hair splayed, and seemed to relax. A few moments later, she fell asleep.

Chantelle asking about her mom had awoken something in Emily. She and Patricia had spoken not that long ago when Emily had tried, and failed, to get her mother to join her in their Thanksgiving celebrations at the inn. Her mom refused to come and visit the house in Sunset Harbor; she viewed it as belonging to Roy, as a place she had been banished from. Even so, Emily thought, Patricia was still a part of her life. It was time to bite the bullet and tell her about the upcoming wedding.

Emily stood from Chantelle’s bed, wrapped herself in a shawl, and went out onto the porch. She sat on the swinging seat, tucked her legs beneath her, and took one look up at the shining moon and stars. Something in their twinkling light gave her courage. She scrolled through the contacts in her cell and dialed her mom’s number.

As always, Patricia answered the phone with a brusque, “Yes?”

“Mom,” Emily said, inhaling, trying to hold onto her courage. “I have something to tell you.”

There was little point in pretending to make polite conversation. Neither of them wanted that. May as well cut to the chase.

“Oh?” Patricia said flatly.

Emily had thrown a few curveballs her mom’s way over the last year, from upping and leaving her home in New York, breaking up with Ben after seven years together, running off to Sunset Harbor, opening a B&B, and falling so madly in love with Daniel that she’d agreed to help raise his child. Her mom had, unsurprisingly, disapproved of every single one of Emily’s choices. The chances of her accepting the engagement were slim to none.

“Daniel asked me to marry him,” Emily finally managed to say. “And I agreed.”

There was a pause, one that Emily had predicted. Her mom used silence like a weapon, always providing Emily with enough time to worry about the thoughts that were crossing her mind.

“And you’ve been dating this man for how long?” Patricia finally said.

“Coming up to a year now,” Emily replied.

“One year. When you have fifty or so to spend together.”

Emily let out a huge sigh. “I thought you’d be happy I was finally settling down. You always loved rubbing it in my face how long you’d been married by my age.” Emily could hear the tone of her voice and cringed. Why did her mom always bring out the belligerent child in her? Why did she care so much about getting her approval when Patricia herself seemed to care so little about her daughter?

“I suppose he needs a mother for that child of his,” Patricia said.

Emily spoke between her teeth. “Her name is Chantelle. And that’s not why he asked. He asked because he loves me. And I said yes because I love him. We want to spend forever together so you should just get used to it.”

“We’ll see,” Patricia replied in a monotone way.

“I wish you could just be happy for me,” Emily said, her voice beginning to waver. “You’re going to be the mother of the bride, after all. People will expect to see you proud and cordial.”

“Who says I’m coming?” Patricia snapped back.

The words stung Emily like a slap. “What do you mean? Of course you’re coming, Mom, it’s my wedding!”

“There’s no of course about it,” Patricia replied. “I’ll RSVP to my wedding invitation when I receive it.”

“Mom…” Emily stammered.

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Would her mom really not come just to spite her? What would people think? Probably that Emily was an orphan, without her dad there, without her mom. And no sister. In many ways, she was an orphan. It was just her against the world.

“Fine,” Emily said, suddenly hot-cheeked. “Do what you want. You always have.” Then she ended the call without saying goodbye.

Emily didn’t want to cry. In fact, she refused to. Not for her mom, it wasn’t worth it. But for her dad, that was another matter altogether. She missed him desperately, and now that she was convinced he was still alive, she wanted to see him badly. But there was no way of reaching him. The woman he’d been cheating on her mom with had passed away several years ago, and anyway, she’d been as stumped as the rest of them about Roy’s disappearance. All Emily knew was that while not having her mom at the wedding would be painful, not having her dad there would be devastating. In that moment, Emily doubled her resolve to track him down. Someone somewhere must know something.

Emily went back inside the inn. She was tired from the long day and climbed the stairs to bed. But when she reached her bedroom she saw that Daniel wasn’t there. Her momentary panic was quelled when Daniel entered the room, cell phone in hand.

“Where have you been?” Emily asked.

“I just called my mom,” Daniel replied. “To tell her about the wedding.”

Emily almost laughed with surprise. That they’d both call their moms simultaneously like that was more than a coincidence; it was clearly a sign of their connection to one another.

“How did it go?” Emily asked, though she could tell by Daniel’s expression that the answer wasn’t going to be good.

“How do you think?” Daniel said, raising an eyebrow. “She played the Chantelle card again, saying she’ll only come to the wedding if we promise to let her spend regular time with Chantelle. I wish she could see what a destructive force she can be and understand why I don’t want her meddling with my kid. Not while she’s still drinking too much. Chantelle needs to be around sober adults after what she went through with her own mom.” He slumped onto the edge of the bed. “She just can’t see my point. She doesn’t get it. ‘Everyone drinks,’ that’s what she always says. ‘I’m no worse than anyone else.’ Maybe she isn’t, but it’s not what Chantelle needs. If she cared about her granddaughter as much as she claims she does, she’d kick the habit for her sake.”

Emily climbed onto the bed behind him and rubbed the tension from his shoulders. Daniel relaxed beneath her soft touch. She pressed a kiss onto his neck.

“I just called my mom too,” she said.

Daniel turned to face her, surprised. “You did? How did that go?”

“Terribly,” Emily said, and suddenly she couldn’t help but laugh. There was something darkly comedic about the whole thing.

Seeing Emily dissolve into laughter made Daniel crack. Soon, they were both laughing hysterically, sharing their commiserations with one another, connected in that moment and rising above it together.