Emily stared at her. “What…what are you saying?”
“I’m saying tonight is your chance, Emily David,” Ava stated. “Your last chance. Go get him.” This was meant with a chorus of approval, and Emily pressed her hands to her heated cheeks.
“I can’t…”
“You can.”
Naomi put her hand on her daughter’s. “Love is worth fighting for,” she said quietly. “There are a lot of things I don’t know. Things I’ve done wrong. But I do know that. Don’t live a life with regret, Emily, like I have.”
“Oh, Mum.” Emily drew a shaky breath. For the first time she was actually, seriously contemplating doing something. Not in the hypothetical way she had before, but in an I-might-walk-to-his-house-right-now way. It made her heart race and her mouth dry; she had that swooping feeling inside she used to get as a child, when she was about to jump off a diving board.
I might really do this.
“Do it, Emily,” Ava said, her voice low and urgent.
“Do it! Do it!”
“You can, you know. What are you risking? A broken heart? You’ve already got one.” This, of course, from Harriet.
Emily looked around the table at all her friends—yes, her friends, and felt her heart fill and then overflow. Then her mother squeezed her hand and smiled, and Emily knew she really was going to do this.
“Okay,” she said, and everyone bellowed and cheered their approval, which caused the bartender to give them all a quelling look. Clearly they were not The Three Pennies’ desired—or usual—clientele.
Emily rose from the table on shaky legs, the one glass of wine she’d had swirling in her stomach and making her head spin. “I’m doing this,” she stated, and everyone cheered again, causing a waitress to tut.
“Go for it, girl!”
“Go get him!”
Naomi gave her a fleeting smile. “I’m proud of you,” she said softly, and Emily smiled.
“Thanks, Mum.”
Outside the pub the air was soft and warm, a sunshine-filled drowsiness left over from the afternoon. The high street was quiet, tumbling down towards the village green and The Drowned Sailor, and up towards the other side of the village, and Owen.
Taking a deep breath, Emily squared her shoulders and started walking. With each step she took, both her certainty and her anxiety grew.
Was it really only six weeks ago that she’d walked disconsolately up this high street, terrified to ask people if they’d be part of the fundraiser? Six weeks ago that she’d met Owen and the sparks had begun to fly?
What if he said no? What if he rejected her…again?
But like Harriet had said, that didn’t matter. Her heart was already broken. And, Emily realised, she needed to do this as much for her sake as for Owen’s. To prove to herself, as well as to him, that she was worth fighting for. Their love, fledgling though it had been, was worth fighting for.
Onward she went, as the sun sunk towards the horizon and golden light spooled across the sky. She’d only been to Owen’s house the one time, and as she came to the top of the village, she wondered if she’d even remember how to get there. Several residential streets branched off from the high street, all looking the same, with semi-detached houses of Cotswold stone and neat, narrow gardens in front.
She went down the first only to discover it dead-ended, and then a second that fell away to farmland on either side, not a garage in sight.
As she tried the third street, her courage began to fail. Was she ridiculous? Pathetic? Yet how she could turn around now? She had all her friends rooting for her. Her mother cheering her on. She needed to do this.
She ventured down the street, wishing she might see something familiar, but she’d been in such a tizzy when Jace had driven her last time, not to mention she’d had a lot of gin, and so now she didn’t recognise anything.
But she didn’t not recognise anything, either, and she knew his place was around here somewhere, and so she kept walking down the street, past neat houses with bikes and trampolines in the garden, a couple of kids still out who looked at her curiously as she passed. Emily had no idea what the expression on her face was; she probably looked constipated or something. One step, then another, and another.
And then the houses petered out and she saw them—a set of dilapidated garages that hardly looked as if one might house a beautiful home. She recognised Owen’s house immediately, the first garage of the set, the stairs on the outside heading up to the first floor.
She was here.
Emily took another buoying breath and climbed the stairs.
At the top she raised her hand to knock, conscious of the import of this moment, and how so much was held in the balance.
“Here goes everything,” she said aloud, and then she knocked on the door.
Chapter Twenty
Owen wasn’t expecting anyone at this time of night. He had a duffel bag on his bed but he hadn’t yet had the heart to fill it. A couple of empty crates were in the kitchen area, to pack away his personal stuff. He hadn’t done that, either. And now someone was knocking on his door, and he really hoped it wasn’t Jace, giving him what-for again. He’d had enough of being told what a cowardly jackass he was being. He already knew.
“Hello…?” The single word trailed away as he saw Emily standing there, her face pale and her eyes bright, her fists clenched at her sides. “Emily…what’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” she repeated rather shrilly. She sounded both nervous and angry, and Owen had no idea why. “Everything and nothing, I suppose. May I come in?”
“Yes, but…” He didn’t know what protest he could make, only that he really hadn’t been expecting her here. He stepped aside and she walked past
