Chapter 9

I stared at Emma as she was looking at the rabbi celebrating the wedding. Oh Lord, she was so beautiful in her light blue dress, her eyes shining brightly. I could tell she was happy. I was happy. Life was amazing.

The rabbi asked for the rings and Emma passed them to Taylor who was grinning like an idiot. He turned around quickly and focused his eyes on his wife to be: Rachel.

Rachel and Taylor met a few months after Emma and him established that there would never be something more than friendship between them. The guy was still depressed over her, when he met Rachel at a music store. The rest as they say is history.

A year later they were already engaged, and now they were getting married.

Emma was the ‘best man’. She grinned happily as her close friend was getting married, a few tears escaping her eyes when the rabbi pronounced them husband and wife, and the glass was broken.

I wish that was our wedding. Who was I kidding? I wasn’t even close to marrying Emma again. We weren’t even dating.

Yes, it had been almost two years since I’d let Emma go, and she still hadn’t come back to me. I decided not to approach the subject, afraid that I would push her away from me. It was Emma’s call for once. I just hoped I did not have to wait all my life to know whether there was a chance that we would get back together.

“That was an amazing ceremony.” I told her happily.

“Yes, it certainly was. My Taylor got married.” She said proudly.

I rolled my eyes. Now that Taylor was no longer a threat, I had to admit that the guy was okay, but I would always be suspicious of him.

Emma looked at our kids playing with other children in the garden of the wedding venue.

Emilienne was almost 8. And she was beautiful. I was afraid I would need to get a weapon to defend her for stupid guys when she would get older.

Yeoshua, Taylor’s son was her best friend. At least, that’s what I was trying to define it as. Emilienne kept referring to him as her boyfriend. The idea made me cringe.

Darcy was already popular with the ladies in his French school. At the age of 12, he did not care about girls at the moment. He looked exactly like me. The only differences were his hazel eyes, his dark brown hair and his golden skin.

I was glad that his relationship with me was now to its former glory. I was glad to have my son back.

A few hours later I found myself driving my family home. Yes, Emma and I were back to living under the same roof, but unfortunately we were still not sleeping in the same bed.

I was slowly losing hope. Maybe we would never get back together. I had to admit that I was partially happy with how things were between us. We were back to being best friends and although the sexual tension between us was always there, we knew not to go over the invisible boundary that separated us from truly becoming again a couple.

I was happy with Emma being happy, and if this was how she wanted things to be for the rest of our days: fine! I’d have tried to be okay with it. I didn’t want to repeat the mistakes of the past by pushing her. I wanted her to come back to me in her own terms, and because she wanted me to be hers and only hers.

I let her go and she occasionally went on dates with men who were probably better than men. Nothing serious, she always told me. It was just her way of having fun and doing what she could not do in her early 20s because of me.

I’d learned patience. And I hoped that my patience would give her the reassurance she needed.

“Emma?” I asked as I saw her descending the stairs.

“The kids are getting ready for bed.” She smiled at me and plopped down on the living room sofa next to me.

She was now dressed in her pjs. She put her head on her shoulder and closed her eyes.

“What’s wrong, love? Are you tired?”

“A bit. And my feet are killing me.” she sighed, her eyes still closed.

“Do you want me to rub them for you?” I inquired chuckling at her relaxed expression.

“Only if you feel like it.” She whispered.

“I do.”  I took her legs and put them on my lap. I quickly took off her socks and started gently rubbing her feet.

She moaned. “Yep. This is exactly what I need.”

“I’m glad I can be of service, love.” I joked as I kept rubbing her feet.

“Are you ready for our therapy session tomorrow? Probably our last one for a while.”

“I’m always ready for our therapy sessions.” I said, and it was the truth. Dr. Jameson had helped me realise my mistakes and become a better person. I would always be grateful to her.

She yawned. “I guess it’s time for me to go to bed. I’m so glad the wedding drama is over. I don’t want to organise a stag do ever again in my life. And I thought that being the maid of honour was hard.”

“You never told me how the stag weekend in Amsterdam went.”

“I’ve never been that irresponsible in my life. We didn’t even sleep. We started as soon as we arrived in the evening and drank so much we thought we would all have alcohol poisoning. We took some pictures when we were conscious. Taylor was dressed as SpongeBob square pants and I was Patrick the star. We went to a strip club. Can’t really remember much of it other than probably making out with a girl, maybe. Not too sure of that either.” She laughed like crazy at that point. “It was...hilarious.”

I laughed with her. “Now, you making out with a girl. Would have loved to see that.”

She frowned. “You should have come. I don’t know why you didn’t want to.”

“I did not want to spoil the night. I would have probably nagged you about the drinking and all. I wanted to you truly enjoy yourself and be free to do as you wished.”

“Aww, that’s sweet, George.” She yawned again. “Carry me upstairs?”

“Sure.” I grinned.

I picked her up and brought her to the master bedroom which was hers now. I laid her on the bed and covered her with the duvet.

“Stay with me tonight?” she asked half asleep.

I got under the covers and hugged her to me before closing my eyes and feeling content.

“I want you to listen to this song.” I told Emma and Dr. Jameson. “It’s an expression of what I feel for you, Emma. I think that in the last two years I’ve tried to show you every day that my heart beats only for you.”

“So I say oh darling
Please baby love this man
Put your arms around and
We can love together
Stay, let’s be in love
One more time”

“I said it
Now regret it
The crazy, crazy
Goodbye.” I whispered as the singer of Graffiti6 sang.

I looked at Emma and I could see her eyes welling up with tears. Were they happy or sad tears?

As soon as the song was over I asked her worriedly. “Emma, why are you crying? Please don’t cry. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I’m sorry, love.”

She wiped the corner of her eyes. “I’m fine, George. Do not worry. I just...the song is great and I loved it and I’m just surprised by it all.”

I frowned, confused. “Why? I thought I’d made it clear that I would love for you to want me back, I would love to call myself yours once again.” I sighed deeply and looked her in the eyes before making probably the most important speech of my life, more important than all those I did in court. “Emma, I deluded myself for so long. I deluded myself that you wanted to get married when I wanted or that you wanted children when I wanted them. I deluded myself that it was okay for me to push your boundaries and make you do what I felt was the right thing. I deluded myself that I was having it easy and that everything was great. I deluded myself that I did not love you anymore, and that I just wanted sex after we broke up. I was living in a world made of illusions. Not anymore. Since I saw the light, I now know how utterly selfish and discussing I’ve been since we started going out, and in our 10 years of marriage. And after I realised my mistakes, I finally understood that I had to let you go and make you freely come back to me, if that is what you feel is best for yourself, by showing you that I love you and that I could change. I love you Emma Armstrong, I love you so much that I would endure the pain of seeing you with someone else if that someone could make you happy...I just want to know if you would go out on a date with me, if you want. No obligation whatsoever.”  

“Count me in.” She grinned. “A date.”

“Guys....I’m so proud of you.” Dr. Jameson said. I could see her eyes shining with unshed tears.

“Thanks.” Emma smiled big. “But remember, we are taking it slow, George. No rush.”

“As you wish, love.” I smiled at her and left a small smile on her cheek.