Falling (14 page)

D
ominic suggests the diner for breakfast the next morning, and Emma is relieved. She realizes she's been vaguely worried about confronting another scene with Jesse like the one at breakfast the day before. Although it is only a blip in a catalog of lovely times together, she doesn't want to upset him again, and perhaps sitting together in a restaurant will make that less likely.

She gets dressed and goes to wash her face in the bathroom, where she finds Hobbes curled up fast asleep on the bath mat. Picking her up, she tiptoes downstairs and goes back home to brush her teeth and jump in the shower before meeting Dominic and Jesse outside by the truck.

It all feels so curious, she thinks, bouncing in the passenger seat of the truck as Dominic and Jesse loudly sing along to Neil Young, that this should feel so much like a family. Perhaps this is how every
woman feels, dating a man with children. Perhaps this is how every woman feels when she has found what she didn't even know she was looking for. Emma should recognize family, for she was loved by her parents, but she didn't feel like she belonged, didn't feel she had the right family, even though they were clearly hers.

As for dating, they are not
dating
. Not exactly. They have only been on one date, to the farm dinner, and that wasn't really official. Nor has he mentioned taking her out. She is not sure what this is, other than fantastic sex, much laughter, and sweetness.

It may not have a label, but right now it feels lovely, and that is enough.

At the diner, Jesse is greeted by everyone, all of them commenting on how big he is, how grown-up. They tuck into a booth where Emma tries to order a fruit platter and rye toast, only to find Jesse insisting she needs to have pancakes instead, because the pancakes there are the best, and if she hasn't had them she is missing out.

Emma pauses. Pancakes drowning in syrup are the very last thing she wants right now, but she also wants to please Jesse, wants him to like her. If she has to eat a few pancakes to help that happen, she will sacrifice the fruit and toast.

Dominic tells stories throughout breakfast about Jesse, all of them funny, all of them delighting Jesse, though he has clearly heard them many times before.

“Tell Emma the one about my head splitting open like a watermelon!” He bounces excitedly on the banquette seat. “And the time you forgot me in the restaurant! Go on! Tell her!”

“I'm not sure I should, buddy,” says Dominic. “I don't think those stories are good for my brand.”

“Dad.” Jesse raises an eyebrow at his father, who bursts out
laughing and proceeds to fill the rest of breakfast with more stories of Jesse's childhood.

“Remember when you took the scissors out of the kitchen drawer and you decided to give yourself a haircut?” As Dominic recounts the tale, Jesse rocks back and forth with glee. He knows every word of this story but can't tear his eyes off his father, delighted at hearing his childhood over and over.

“Oh man.” Dominic shakes his head, laughing. “He cut huge chunks out of sections of his hair. It was terrible. He came in to show me with a big smile, thinking he'd given himself this great haircut, and he looked like he'd just stepped out of the circus ring. I had to shave it all off.”

“But you left me a Mohawk!” Jesse shouts.

“Not that time. There wasn't enough hair.”

Whatever Jesse was going through yesterday seems to be over, for the most part. He is as sweet with Emma as he was before he found her in his father's bed. When Dominic reaches for her hand as they walk out of the diner, Emma is glad to see that the flash of discomfort in Jesse's eyes passes quickly.

They drop Jesse at camp, then drive to Torno Lumber to buy materials for Lisa's shelves, before Emma goes off to buy more accessories for the house. She stops at Gold's for sandwiches for lunch, bringing them home as she watches Dominic first construct the basic shelves in their backyard, leaping up from time to time to give him input.

“I'm not sure that's completely level. It may be me, it probably is me, but can we just check it?”

They stop and check; stop and check; even when Emma is wrong, and she is wrong only once, they stop and check.

She brings her laptop outside, sitting under the shade of the apple tree while he saws, sands, and hammers. They stop, although only briefly, for a short but sweet lovemaking session after lunch.

•   •   •

One night, with a start, Emma realizes she has spent every night for the past week with Dominic. They haven't discussed it, but as each evening rolls on, they just both assume she will stay. And she has. She needs her own bed tonight, though. She has a lot to do tomorrow; they both have a lot to do, finishing up Lisa's house. And to be honest, she has to confess to herself that it will be good for her to have some space. Everything has happened so quickly, she feels a need to catch her breath, just to be sure it's all real.

•   •   •

After so many days away, Emma's house is a peaceful and welcome respite. But a lonely one. She pours herself a glass of wine and sits in the garden, where she immediately realizes she can hear Jesse laughing and Dominic calling him over to help with the grill, and her self-imposed exile seems ridiculous.

And yet she should have a night to herself. It can't be right to have this instant relationship in so short a time. Emma goes back inside, pours another glass of rosé, curls up on the sofa with Hobbes, and attempts to lose herself in a novel.

It doesn't work. She puts the book down every few paragraphs and picks up her phone, checking for e-mails, texts, any kind of distraction.

At ten o'clock, just as she is trawling through Netflix looking for a series she hasn't yet watched, Dominic texts her.

I miss you.

I miss you, too
,
she types, the smile wide on her face.

I'm going to bed now
, he types.
I wanted to say good night.

Good night
, she types.
Sleep well.

He sends an emoji kiss, and nothing else.

There is a part of her that had hoped he would suggest her coming over. She would have gone, even though she knows she needs the night alone. The relationships that burn brightest and fastest burn out the quickest, she reminds herself. She has learned this the hard way, with exciting friendships that failed.

A couple of years ago, at a party on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, Emma had watched as a very tall, rather stunning girl stalked in. She looked like a model, angular and chic, but it turned out she was actually a chef in a wonderful restaurant Emma had recently visited. The two of them spent the whole night chatting.

It felt immediately like they had known each other for years. It was one of those mutual girl crushes that women so often experience. They couldn't believe how much they had in common, how much they thought alike, how they were both interested in the same things, namely, interiors, food, design.

“We have to get together,” said Anna, the girl, and they arranged to meet for lunch the next day. There were many lunches, coffees, dinners, and outings over the next few months. When they met one another's mutual friends they joked that they were each other's New Best Friends. But it was true: Emma hadn't found anyone in years who seemed to connect with her in quite the way Anna did.

The two of them went on adventures together, climbing into Anna's old VW Beetle convertible and driving out to fantastic farmer's markets in upstate New York, staying with friends of hers in Millbrook. Anna almost immediately became the best friend Emma had always wanted.

If she had been honest, she would have had to admit she didn't
love Anna's friends. She found them pretentious and rather full of themselves. One of them, Edward, was the king of the malaprop. Emma would listen to him denigrate a fellow artist, using incorrect words in incorrect ways, and she would smile to herself as she sat there saying nothing.

She and Anna spent almost every weekend together, would text each other throughout the week and talk several times each night on the phone. Until, one day, Emma's text wasn't returned for a few hours. Anna eventually responded with an emoji unhappy face. She was sorry, she'd said; she'd been really busy.

Emma suggested coffee a few days later. Anna wrote back saying she had to work. She included a kissing emoji this time, as if that would make Emma feel loved.

Emma quickly discovered she felt like she was in a romantic relationship and the other person was backing off. She had no idea what she had done. They had become instant best friends, until the day they weren't.

She decided not to pursue Anna, certain that the friendship would get back on track as soon as her friend wasn't so busy. It was simply work related, she told herself. This probably happened to Anna sometimes, and she just hadn't known her long enough to experience it before. So she waited, patiently . . .

Anna never contacted her again.

They ran into each other a few months later in a restaurant. She saw Anna, head close together with a girl Emma didn't recognize, two good-looking men sitting opposite them. And that was when she knew she had been replaced with another instant best friend.

It hurt tremendously. Emma wasn't used to being dumped. But she also had to admit the warning signs had been there; she had just
failed to recognize them. Anna had regularly dismissed women she knew as too high-maintenance, too bitchy, too needy. They had been friends, Anna had said about one or another woman she knew, until she realized they were awful. Emma lost count of the number of times she heard this. She thought that would never happen to her; she thought their friendship had been different.

She crafted texts many, many times.
If I did anything to upset you,
she wrote to Anna,
I would love to know; I'm so sorry if I said anything to offend you; I would never knowingly have done anything to jeopardize our friendship.
But she never sent them. She deleted the number, which she had never known by heart, then blocked it. One night a few months after the first encounter, she saw Anna again, this time sitting with another new friend at a different restaurant. This time, she went over, despite the pounding of her heart, and with a big smile, tapped Anna on the shoulder. She was friendly but slightly disinterested, cool but polite.

“Anna.” She bent down to kiss her. “What a nice surprise to see you here. I saw the review in the
Times
the other week. Congratulations.” She turned then and nodded to the other people around the table, now watching her curiously. Turning back to Anna, she said, “You look wonderful. So good to see you. Have a great evening,” and with a wave she turned on her heel and walked out. She had known Anna would never realize how upset Emma had been when she disappeared, nor how discombobulating it was to see her now. But most of all, she had realized that Anna would never know how un-Emma it was for her to behave in the way she had just behaved, affecting an air of gracious disinterest. Because as close as she had thought she and Anna had been, she now knew they had really not known each other at all.

Emma was, at least, able to let go after that. She no longer worried about what she might have done to push Anna away. She had no idea whether Anna had tried to call after that chance meeting, thanks to blocking her number, but sometimes she liked to think she would have tried.

It had been just like a romance. The intensity, the delight at finding someone with so many shared interests, the way the mutual attraction had fizzled out. Emma hadn't been needy, or high-maintenance, or bitchy, but Anna was someone who moved through people, who gathered them easily because of her beauty and charisma, and discarded them just as easily and quickly. Perhaps it was from boredom, perhaps it was because she was just careless of any feelings but her own. All Emma was certain of was that she wouldn't jump into any more friendships, or relationships, that quickly again.

•   •   •

Yet here she is sleeping over every night with Dominic, for all intents and purposes, rushing things in a way that is bound to end badly. Yet there isn't the buzz of nervous excitement she has had before at the beginning of relationships. There is, instead, huge passion. But the relationship doesn't feel dangerous. She doesn't feel that she and Dominic are anxious about having found each other. If anything, their connection to each other feels calm, and safe, and—she doesn't even really want to think this it's so unlikely—
right
.

Nevertheless, she believes she needs this night off. She is glad she is in her crisp, cool sheets, glad that she can stretch a leg out to the other side of the bed when her own side gets too hot. She is glad that when she finds herself awake at two
A.M
., she can turn the light on and get back to sleep by reading, without worrying about waking anyone else up.

And at that early hour, before she has a chance to become absorbed in the book, she can lie in bed and think about all that has changed over the last week; the loveliness of not being alone, the fun it has been to get to know Jesse, to find herself cooking dinner for someone other than herself, to feel part of a family that is, this time, the right family for her.

•   •   •

Emma is awakened by the telephone. Sure it is Dominic, she is surprised to see
Unknown
on the screen. It's either private or overseas.

“Hello, darling,” peals her mother's voice. “We haven't spoken for a while so I thought I'd check that you were still alive.”

“I'm very much alive,” says Emma, getting out of bed and padding to the kitchen to get some coffee on. “Alive and busy.”

“Busy? Did you get another job? Oh, I'm so pleased, darling. Daddy and I have been worried about you, out in the country all by yourself with no one you know.”