“He must be on call tonight?” Rob asked.
Emily nodded. “Life of a doctor’s wife,” she answered.
Rob stood up. “Here,” he said, “why don’t I give you my cell number. Then you can let me know whether to expect you two.”
Emily hesitated for a moment. She shouldn’t have his number in her phone. It would be too easy for an innocent text to turn into something more. But it seemed rude not to give him the phone—and like it would telegraph the message that he meant more to her than he did. Besides, she could always delete the number after she told him they weren’t going to make it tomorrow. She handed him her phone so he could type in his number.
As he was typing, a text message chimed.
Rob looked up. “Ezra said his parents need help moving some furniture in their house, so he’s going to go home with them tomorrow and spend Sunday in Princeton. He’ll be home on Monday after work and you can talk then.”
“Oh,” Emily said, not finding a better word than that. Not wanting to explain what they were going to talk about or why her husband was texting her that information.
“So, I guess tomorrow night’s invitation is just for you, then,” he added, looking like he wanted to say something more but held himself back.
“I guess so,” Emily answered.
Rob handed her back her phone. She could feel the tension rising between them.
“You know how my mom always said things will be okay in the end?”
Emily nodded.
“Well, if things aren’t okay, it’s not the end. For you, either.” He looked at her meaningfully.
Emily knew what he was dancing around, what he was trying to say. And if she were smart, she would tell him that everything was fine. But that would feel like a lie. And he’d know it. So instead she said, “Thank you.”
“Let me know about tomorrow night, okay?” he said.
“I will,” she told him. “And . . . if I don’t make it tomorrow, it was great to see you. Truly.”
He bent toward her and hugged her, and held on tight.
She wanted to hold him just as tight.
But she didn’t.
xxv
Your aunt Ari got married today. I keep thinking that you would’ve been five years old. You could’ve been the flower girl or the ring bearer. You would’ve been dressed up fancy, pink-cheeked and smiling in the photos. Or maybe you would’ve been scared, hiding behind my leg or clinging to my skirt. Ari’s husband, Jack, has a sister with two kids, and seeing them run around—I haven’t thought about you this much in years. It was like you were at that wedding with me, in my heart, in my mind.
I wish your grandma could’ve been there. Ari asked me to walk her down the aisle along with our dad. She said that since we were such a team, it wouldn’t feel right for me to walk with someone else on her wedding day. So she had one of us on each side. When we got up to the front of the aisle, and we walked ahead of her underneath the chuppah, Jack whispered to me: “I promise you I’ll never get between you and your sister. She loves you so much.”
“She loves you, too, Jack,” I told him. “And I’m so happy to have a brother.”
It would’ve been nice to have a date to their wedding, but I haven’t dated anyone since your dad. I kept telling myself it’s because I’ve been working so hard in school, but the truth is, I’ve been scared. I’m still scared. So scared that I’ll get hurt again. So scared that I’ll hurt someone else.
I don’t want to spend the rest of my life alone, though, thinking about what might have been. I’d thought I was healed, but I’m not healed enough. I’ll get there, though. I will. And when I do, I’m sure I’ll imagine you on my wedding day, too, what it would’ve been like if I’d asked you to walk me down the aisle and stand with me as I brought someone new into our lives.
35
The next morning, Emily headed to the East River path for a run and thought about Ezra. The two of them often ran down the side of Manhattan together, his feet pounding the pavement with slightly longer strides, so she had to turn her legs over faster to keep up. Once they’d gone about four and a half miles down to Battery Park, they’d usually slow down and stop for a smoothie before taking the subway home, dripping sweat but relaxed and happy.
Instead of getting a smoothie after her run, Emily sent Ezra a text: Hope it’s not too rough at the hospital. He didn’t respond. But, she reasoned, maybe that text didn’t invite a response. Or maybe it was rough at the hospital and he couldn’t text with her just then. That had happened before. But she was feeling so insecure right then that she couldn’t stop turning his nonresponse over and over in her mind.