The Best of Me

by Karlee Michelle

  “Why does everyone keep saying that?” She’s confused but not mad, and I’m relieved.

  I decide to continue, “Because you tip-toe as close to the line of healing as you can without ever going over it. Once you go over it, you feel everything, you face your reality. And if you’re like anyone else who has ever lost someone, you avoid that reality because you don’t want to accept one without him in it.”

  Her brows furrow. “Have you ever lost someone?”

  “Yes. But not in the way you have. Physically, they were still here, although withering away. Mentally? They were gone for a long time.”

  “I’m sorry,” Emery says with the most genuine concern.

  “Thank you. It sucked, but I was a lucky one. They came back.” I smile at her. “Now, what was good about today?”

  “Seeing my family. My grandparents. My sister. Watching you open your present. Getting my present from you. It was a good day with hard spots sprinkled in there.”

  “Good.”

  “What about you?” She finishes her food and sets the plate on the coffee table.

  “It was great seeing my family. My brother and I got my parents a cruise. They’ve never been on vacation together. Oh, and my brother got my mom a locket trying to be sly, but he put my baby picture in it.” I chuckle as Emery laughs out loud, and the sound is soothing. “And sitting with you right now is topping it off.” Her face is taken over by a shy grin, and I continue, “I have a tradition.”

  “Oh, tell me.”

  “I watch Christmas Vacation every Christmas. I have yet to watch it—”

  “Yes! I’m staying. It’s my favorite movie.”

  I laugh at her enthusiasm. “Done.”

  I get up to grab some throw blankets, and I hear her chuckle. “I’m sorry, I can’t take you seriously while you wear that.”

  Laughter shakes my body. “I actually forgot. These are comfortable as fuck.” I throw her a blanket and sit next to her, but when I cover up with mine, she puts hers on top and climbs under my blanket, resting her head on my shoulder.

  “Mason?”

  “Yeah?” My heart’s about to pound out of my damn chest.

  “Is this okay?”

  “It’s more than okay.” I feel her swallow the thick nervous bubble down; she’s fidgeting.

  “Mason?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thank you.”

  Her soft brown eyes meet mine, and I smile back at her. She focuses on the TV again, and I’m focused on the feel of her head resting on my shoulder the entire movie, and how much I wish I could feel her hand in mine.

  liberosis—the desire to care less about things

  Emery

  February

  How does someone heal? Does time do it? Do I have to consciously work at it? Or does it just happen? I went to Derek’s grave last week and cleaned it up. The snow melted due to the unseasonably warm February weather. The upcoming change of season is bringing anticipation with it. Something about Spring feels like a fresh start. It feels more like the start of a New Year than January does. And as broken as I feel, I’m excited for a new chapter. Or maybe it’s just a new change of scenery. I miss my husband so much, and the constant grey skies don’t help. I want to feel him in the wind against my skin and the sun against my face.

  You know that chance I took a few months ago? It’s been the greatest chance I could’ve ever taken.

  Mason was the exact thing I needed. He’s helped me so much. As have you. But I constantly battle with guilt, feeling like I shouldn’t find another man attractive or that I shouldn’t be spending so much time with another man so soon. That I shouldn’t feel happy with another man, even if he’s just my friend. We’ve never crossed the line, which I’m not ready for anyway. Lately, I keep wondering when the guilt will go away. I’m starting to get used to the absence of Derek’s presence, unfortunately. But I still struggle with feeling like I’m doing something wrong.

  A few more months until the anniversary of his death, and I’m dreading that day. I’ve never drank a day in my life, and the night of his funeral, I got plastered. All I wanted to do was forget the pain. Numb me. But it only made it worse. So much worse.

  I’ve been so unmotivated the past several weeks. I don’t want to go to work. I’d rather write these letters and watch my little plants start growing. Maybe it’s because I haven’t felt or heard him in weeks.

  Am I doing something wrong? I thought I was doing so good, but I feel as if I’ve taken ten steps backward.

  I seal up the envelope and mail it off before I think twice. That one was sucky to write, but I feel so much better now. The sun is finally shining through my window, and it’s sixty degrees, even though it’s the beginning of February. We got hit hard in the beginning of winter, and it’s been freakishly warm the last two days, but that isn’t what I’m distracting myself from.

  I’m distracting myself from the fact Mason is coming over for dinner tonight, and he’s never stepped foot inside my home. No other man outside of my family has stepped foot inside my home since Derek died.

  “I’m a shitty wife,” I say to myself in the mirror.

  You were the best wife I could’ve ever asked for.

  Swallowing the lump in my throat, I squeeze my eyes shut. “I haven’t heard you in a long time.”

  I’m always here, baby.

  “Are you mad at me?”

  I couldn’t be mad at you if I tried, Emery Jean. Give yourself some grace.

  “Am I doing the right thing?” I wait for the reply, but I don’t hear or feel him anymore. “I love you,” I whisper, hoping he can feel the love I will always have for him.

  Snapping myself back into it, I wash up and finish making tacos. About thirty minutes later, Mason knocks on the door, and when I open it with a big smile, my grin drops when I see its Drew.

  My brows furrow. “What are you doing here?”

  “Well, damn, don’t be so excited to see me.” She walks past me and sees how clean the house is and how much food I’m cooking before she slowly turns around with suspicious eyes. “Are you having company tonight?”

  I stomp past her. “Yes, and he’ll be here any second, so you need to get a move on.”

  “Ha! You’re out of your mind if you think I’m leaving before I get a look at this guy.”

  I roll my eyes, knowing there’s no sense in arguing with her. Right on cue, there’s another knock on the door, and Drew bolts to the front and opens it before I can trip her.

  “Hey, Em-” he’s confused, and it makes me chuckle. “You are not Emery,” he says as he takes in my sister's wildly messy bun and sweatpants.

  “Drew.” She extends her hand to Mason. “Come on in.” She smiles sweetly at him, and he slowly enters. As he passes her, she looks at me with a dropped jaw and mouths, “Holy shit he’s so hot!”

  I’m so embarrassed, and my eye is probably twitching. “Mason, this is my sister, Drew. Drew, this is Mason.” I scratch my head, praying she leaves.

  “Nice to meet you.” He waves and smirks.

  “Pleasures all mine.” Drew has an up-to-no-good-embarrass-Emery smile on, and it’s time for her to go.

  “Okay. Nice seeing you, sis. Love you, drive safe, don’t let the door hit you on the way out!” I say as I push her out the door. Once she’s outside, she can’t contain her laughter, and before shutting the door, I aggressively whisper, “I’ll call you later.” I turn to Mason, “You just dodged a bullet, my friend. You should thank me.”

  He grins. “I’ll take note of that. Here, these are for you.” He hands me a big bouquet of white daisies.

  The grin on my lips almost hurts. “The amount of detail you pay attention to is seriously astonishing.”

  He shrugs, his hands in his pockets and head tilted to the side with a crooked smile on his face.

  “Dinner’s almost ready, I’ll give you a tour first. This is obviously the hallway/dining room that I never sit in. Back here is the kitchen and living ro
om. One ‘big ass room’ as you explained yours to me.” I chuckle. “There’s a bathroom right here, and then the master and guest bedrooms down that hall.”

  “Your home is exactly how I pictured it.”

  “Hopefully that’s a good thing.” I laugh as I turn off the burner now that everything is done.

  “It is. It’s light, airy, homey. Very Emery.”

  “Did you call me homely?” I sass to him.

  “No, you smartass.” Mason walks up next to me. “Can I help with anything?”

  “It’s all done. Just gotta bring it to the table.” I smile sweetly at him, and he helps me bring everything over.

  “This smells amazing. It looks amazing. Thank you.”

  “Of course.” I smile, but it slightly fades when he takes the seat across from me. The sight of him in Derek’s spot makes my gut clench. Keep it together, Emery. It’s just Mason.

  “How was work?” I ask him, desperate to get my mind off of him in my home, which is hard because he is in my home.

  We both pile tacos onto our plates as we talk. “Busy. Lots of calls, but they were fairly simple calls which is good,” he says between bites. “Holy hell, this is delicious.”

  My smile grows. “Thank you.” I can’t help the cheesy grin as I shrug my shoulders.

  Mason’s eyes soften, a content look taking over his face as he tilts his head to study me.

  “What’s on your mind, Mason Baylor?” I ask him as I take another bite of my taco.

  A playful smirk sits contently on his lips as he slowly shakes his head.

  Sliding my plate forward, I set my elbows on the table and rest my chin on my hands. “I’m full.” Our eyes don’t veer anywhere. We’re focused on each other as Falling Slowly by Glen Hansard plays softly in the background. The lyrics are strangely intimate and fitting, and Mason slightly opens his mouth, his tongue in his cheek as he smiles before he stands and walks to me. He extends his hand, and I hesitate, but only for a second. Before I put my palm in his, he pulls me up from my chair and into him. Mason’s left hand warms my lower back as his right-hand clasps mine. I’m aware of every single spot our bodies are touching, igniting goosebumps all over my skin. My heart beats as loud as a drum in my chest, and I’m almost sure he can hear it.

  There isn’t one second we look away from each other as we sway back and forth. His lips move to the lyrics, and the fireworks in my belly are setting off, one after the other. He spins me around, and I can’t help the giggle that leaves me, the remnants of laughter still on my face as he pulls me back into him as the song winds down. Our feet stop moving, and the back of his fingers lightly touch my face, moving my hair from my eyes.

  “God, you’re beautiful.” The whisper of his words makes my hands tremble in nervousness, or maybe it’s excitement.

  My tongue pokes out to lick my lips before I swallow down the ball of anxiousness. He doesn’t move down to me, leaving the ball in my court. Take a chance, Emery Jean. Slowly, I lift to my toes, bringing my lips closer to his. We’re a hair’s length away from each other. One slight shift is all it will take. Take it, Emery.

  Just as I’m about to take my chance, Bloom by The Paper Kites comes on and I drop to my heels and back away as mine and Derek’s wedding song plays.

  I clear my throat. “I’m sorry.” I can’t meet his eyes. Guilt rattles my bones and shame steals my breath—but want pulses through my veins. Even though I feel the first two, there is no denying I want Mason, but I won’t let myself have him. He deserves better than this.

  Finally, taking my chances, I look at Mason. His hands are on his hips, and he’s looking down at his shoes before he peeks up at me. “Emery, please don’t apologize. I should’ve known better.”

  “No, no. Please, you didn’t do anything wrong. I just—”

  “Please, don’t explain yourself,” he says softly. “Never apologize for this. I know you're battling something up there in that head of yours. It’s fine, I promise. This is still so soon, I don’t know…” He scratches his head and diverts his eyes. “I guess the moment got the better of me.” Mason chuckles nervously.

  The air is thick with tension as awkwardness settles over us for the first time since we’ve met each other. I clicked with Mason since the moment we first talked. He felt familiar and comfortable in the sense that I could let my guard down around him without fear of judgment or embarrassment. But tonight, I came so close to kissing him that I can physically feel the change in our friendship. Not for the worse, but just…different. The line we were too nervous to go near has been stepped on, and now it’s just a matter of figuring out how we’re going to navigate this boat.

  So, I do what I do best. I divert. “Cheesecake?”

  “What?” I threw him off guard. I navigate best by pretending I intentionally rammed over the curb. Yep, that was totally on purpose.

  “Yeah, I made homemade cheesecake.” I shuffle past him and get it out of the fridge. My hands are shaking as I fumble through the silverware drawer. I’m rattling and clanking around my kitchen, trying to busy my thoughts when Mason comes up behind me and grabs my arms, halting my movements. Turning me around, he tilts my chin up.

  “Emery. Stop.”

  “Stop what?”

  “You know what.” His deep command lights sparks down my spine. “It’s okay. This doesn’t change anything.”

  “It’s changed everything, Mason.”

  “But has it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Are these feelings new? Did you just discover them tonight? Or have you felt them for a while now? Because I know my answer, Emery.”

  My eyes are wide, unused to this kind of straightforwardness. “Um.” I swallow, trying to stall. “I—I don’t know.”

  “I think you do know, you just need more time. And guess what, Emery Jean?” His hands lean on the counter on each side of me, caging me in.

  “What?” I’m hanging off his every word.

  “I have nothing but time.” A knowing smirk grows on his lips as he stands straight. “Now, how about that cheesecake?” Mason finishes grabbing plates and forks, getting slices for each of us.

  Well, crap.

  moira—a person’s fate or destiny

  Mason

  My feet ache with every step I take. I’m so ready to go home, shower, and sit my ass on my couch. After wrapping up a fourteen-hour shift from hell, my mood is slightly sour, but I’m blaming it on the exhaustion. I grab food on the way home, too tired to even think about cooking, and when I pull in my driveway, Emery’s car is already parked.

  She gets out of her car with a smile. “Ah, dang! You bought food!”

  “I did…” I look at her, confused. Happy, but confused.

  “I made those homemade calzones you loved.”

  “Shut up, you did not.”

  “I so did. And although you may be exhausted, I’ve come to whoop your ass in Mario Kart because today freaking sucked, and I could really use some Mason time.”

  A smile grows on my face. “Some Mason time, huh?”

  Emery nods with a crooked grin. She’s bundled up and snowflakes fall around her, catching in the soft brown waves of her hair. She’s so fucking stunning.

  “You really made your calzones and brought them to me?”

  “I really did.” She chuckles as she walks next to me. She made them a couple of weeks ago, and I stole one from her. Best fucking thing I’ve tasted in my life.

  “I could kiss you right now, woman.” I catch the roll of her eyes as I close the garage door, walking in through the side.

  “Why don’t you use your front door?” she asks as she takes off her boots and hangs her coat on my coat rack as if she’s done it a thousand times. Seeing her so comfortable in my home does something to me.

  “When I moved in, I always parked in here, so it just became a habit, I guess.”

  Emery grabs plates and takes the food from her bag, plating them up for us before we both plop on the couch.
<
br />   “Talk to me, love,” I say as I dig into my calzone—buttery crust with a cheesy, meaty inside. I’m in heaven. I notice Emery didn’t answer me, and when I look at her, her eyes are wide, and she takes a gulp before shaking herself out of whatever thought she was in.

  “Um, I don’t know. I’m so torn with work. I normally wouldn’t talk about this, but you're you. I technically don’t need to work. Derek and I were already financially stable, but he was also prepared in case something happened. At first, I was itching to go back to work. I craved something normal from my old routine. But I don’t know. It’s just not the same.”

  I nod. “Everything has changed. So that normalcy in your old routine felt comforting at first, but as you learned to adapt to your new reality, it's not bringing you the solace you were craving.”

  “I mean, I wasn’t thinking about it that deeply, but yeah. That sounds about right.” She chuckles as she takes a bite.

  “It’s okay. To take some time for yourself.”

  “I did that, though. In the beginning.”

  “That was not time for yourself, Emery. That was doing what you had to do to survive the hand you were dealt.”

  “I guess. But I can’t just leave and then come back when I feel like it. That company has people lined out the door for a job.”

  Not knowing if she wants my input or not, I ask her gently, “Are you looking for my advice, or do you just want to vent?”

  She sighs and looks up at the ceiling in defeat. “I don’t know. I don’t want to think about work anymore. Give me your wisdom later. I just wanted to vent.” She looks at me and smiles. “How was your day?”

  I chuckle. “Oh man. I had a day, too. Call after call, but it was a lot of little, pesky stuff that we aren’t needed for, on top of my partner being in a shitty mood because he’s sleep-deprived from his newborn baby.” I take the last bite of my food and set the plate down, wiping my hands as I lean back, and Emery curls up next to me. Close enough to touch, but not quite there. “So, imagine my delight when I saw my favorite person standing in my driveway with my favorite meal.”