"That's not what this is." "Then what is it?" Marcus asked. His voice barely worked. "It's me choosing what I actually want for the first time in my life without fear making the call." Emily kept her eyes locked on his.
"Here's what I figured out at 3:00 this morning, lying awake in my childhood bedroom. Chicago was never really about the job. It was about proving something. Proving I was still the woman who chose her career over Daniel. Proving I didn't need anybody."
"Every time I got scared of needing somebody, I'd think about that offer like a life raft. See, I could still run. I could still be that woman." She shook her head. "But I don't want to be that woman anymore, Marcus."
"That woman was lonely. That woman built a wall so high her own father couldn't reach her. I don't want to run to Chicago to prove I don't need people. I want to stay here and actually build a life with the people I found." "But your career," Marcus said.
"Is not the Chicago job," Emily said firmly. "It's my career, and I get to define it. And here's the part I need you to really hear because it's the whole difference between this and what Daniel wanted." She took a breath. "I already called a firm in Atlanta this morning too."
"A good one. Not as flashy as Chicago, but real serious work. And they want to talk. So I'm not giving up my career to stay, Marcus. I'm building my career somewhere that lets me also have a father I can drive to in 20 minutes and a little girl who votes stay."
"And a man who loves me enough to tell me to leave." She smiled through her tears. "Daniel asked me to give up my dream so he could keep me. I'm choosing to build my dream somewhere I can also keep the people I love. Those are not the same thing."
"Do you understand? Those are not remotely the same thing." Marcus stood there, and something in his chest broke open, warm and enormous. "Yeah," he said horsely. "I understand."
"You told me to take the job," Emily said. "And that's exactly why I could turn it down. Because you gave me the freedom to actually choose. If you'd begged me to stay, I might have run just to prove I could. But you set me free."
"And once I was free, I looked at everything and I realized—" Her voice broke. "I realized I don't want to be free of you. I want to be free with you." From the hospital bed, Harold made a sound that was half sobb and half triumph. "That," Harold said, pointing weakly at his daughter, "is the most romantic thing anybody has said in this family in 40 years."
"See? See, Marcus? That's what I'm talking about. That's the good stuff. Kitchen was okay. Okay, this is—" He wiped his eyes.
"Now this is a scene." "Dad, you're supposed to be resting your heart." "My heart's never felt better," Harold declared, and the monitor, as if in agreement, beeped along steadily and strong. Marcus came around the bed then, and he took Emily's face in both his hands. And for a long moment, he just looked at her.
This woman he'd met building a house for a ghost. This woman who pushed and argued and hid and finally, finally stopped hiding. "I'm scared too," he said quietly, so only she could really hear. "I need you to know that. I lost one person I loved, and it nearly killed me."
"Some part of me decided I'd never do that again. I built my own wall, Emily. Harold saw it before I did. So when I told you to take the job, part of that was noble, sure. But part of it was me giving myself a way out."
"A way to lose you on purpose so I'd never have to lose you by surprise." He shook his head. "I'm done with that. I don't want the way out anymore. I want the risk."
"I want you, and I want the terror of loving somebody I could lose, because the alternative is being safe and alone forever, and I've done safe and alone for 5 years, and it's no way to live." Emily put her hands over his utar. "We're both scared," she said. Marcus agreed. "Good," Emily whispered.
"Let's be scared together. That's the whole thing, right? That's what Dad's been trying to beat into both our thick skulls this whole time. You don't stop being scared. You just stop being scared alone."
And Marcus kissed her right there in the hospital room. And Harold whooped from the bed and immediately regretted it and grabbed his chest, and a nurse came running, and it was chaos and tears and laughter all at once. It was the best moment Marcus had felt in 5 years. Harold's procedure was 2 days later. Marcus took off work, didn't even think twice about it, and sat in the waiting room with Emily and Ava, whom he'd pulled out of school because she'd looked at him with her mother's eyes and said, "He's family, Dad. I'm coming."
And there was no arguing with that. The three of them sat in those hard hospital chairs for 4 hours. Ava fell asleep against Marcus's side around our two. Emily paced and sat and paced again, and Marcus caught her hand every time she passed and held it until she calmed enough to sit back down. "He's going to be fine," Marcus said for maybe the 10th time.
"You don't know that?" "No," Marcus admitted. "I don't, but I know Harold. And I know that man is too stubborn and too nosy to die before he sees how this all turns out. He's got too much matchmaking left to do."
Emily laughed despite herself and leaned her head on his shoulder, and they waited. When the doctor finally came out, she was smiling. "He did great," she said. "Better than great. The procedure went perfectly."
"His rhythm's already corrected, and he's awake and asking for—" She checked, amused. "He's asking for a hamburger and, quote, my whole family, including the big fella and the little one." Emily burst into tears of relief, and Marcus wrapped both arms around her, and Ava woke up and blinked and said, "Is Mr. Harold okay?" And when they told her yes, she cheered so loud a nurse shushed her.