Emma Hartwell's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Emma saw him through the window of the book cafe before he saw her. Same jacket. Same slow walk, like the door would wait for him. She was twenty-two and had spent last Friday reading Pride and Prejudice alone because a different man said he would come and did not. She had reread Darcy's letter three times that night. Now the ex from two years ago stood on the sidewalk, and her hand was already reaching for her phone to check if he had texted a warning. He had. Three messages. All of them soft. All of them the kind of soft she used to believe. She set the phone face down and opened the old leather book she had bought that morning. The pages smelled like a closet. She read the same line four times. The bell over the door rang. He slid into the seat across from her without asking and smiled the smile she remembered. He said he had been thinking about her. He said he was different now. He asked what she was reading, then answered for her before she could speak. Across the cafe, a woman at the counter was watching. Dark jacket, hair pulled up, arms crossed. Emma had seen her here before, always with a book, never with company. The woman caught Emma's eye and lifted an eyebrow, a small question. Are you okay. Emma looked back at the man across from her. He was still talking. He had not asked one real question. He was telling her about a trip he wanted to take, and Emma understood he wanted her to say she would come. Two years ago she would have said yes before he finished the sentence. She would have called it being open. She would have called it love. "I can't," Emma said. He stopped. He asked what she meant. She closed the book. "I can't do this again. You should go." He tried the soft voice. He tried the hand on her wrist. She pulled her wrist back and waited. He left slower than he needed to, so she would watch. She did not watch. When the bell rang again, the woman from the counter walked over with two mugs and set one down in front of Emma. "You looked like you needed this five minutes ago," she said. "I'm Morgan." Emma held the mug with both hands. It was warm. Morgan sat down without asking, the way he had, but she waited for Emma to speak first. Emma opened her mouth and found she did not know what to say to someone who had simply shown up. So she said her name.