“Well, yes, but it was always during the weeknights, and you know my boss often requires me to work late. And on the weekends, when I actually was free, she was too busy with Landon.”
“But she’d still invited you. Because you dress nicely and can hold your own at a fancy cocktail party. I, on the other hand, hadn’t heard from her at all. And you should’ve seen how much she’s changed, Kendall. It’s like she went on one of those makeover shows.”
“Yeah, that’s kind of crazy,” Kendall agrees. “I mean, people change and all, but that does seem pretty extreme. Do you think it’s because of Landon?”
“I’m almost sure of it.” I watch fat snowflakes land on the cars next to us. “Do you think—” I stop, unsure if I should go there.
“What? Come on, Ems, spill it.”
I take a breath. “Do you think Marcus will expect it of me too? I mean, if we stay together longer term, do you think he’ll want me to become like Janie, all designer clothes and flat-ironed hair and glossy lips?”
“So what if he does?” Kendall’s tone is distinctly lacking in sympathy. “There’s nothing wrong with putting some effort into your appearance. How did you feel in your cat’s butt dress and cheap boots last night?”
“Not great,” I admit. “I mean, once I got there, I kind of forgot about it because everyone was nice to me, but—”
“But you worried yourself sick about it beforehand. And why? Why not dress nicely and feel good in what you’re wearing?”
I frown. “Well, for one thing, I can’t afford—”
“Emma! You’re dating a billionaire. Let the guy buy you a freaking dress and a pair of decent shoes, so you’ll feel comfortable among his kind of crowd. Or if that’s too much for your independent sensibilities, let me get you some samples from my boss’s collection.”
“Aren’t they all size double-zero?” I ask wryly. “Last I checked, those clothes might not even fit my cats.”
Kendall lets out a frustrated breath. I have her there, and she knows it. “Fine. Cling to your principles. But I’m telling you, Ems, change is not always a bad thing. Maybe Janie went overboard trying to please her boyfriend, but if she feels good in her new skin, be happy for her. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to project a specific image—unless of course, by doing so, you neglect your friends.”
It’s my turn to let out a frustrated sigh. “I know that. I’m just…” Scared. I don’t say it, but the word rings out loud and clear in my mind, as if shoved to the front by my subconscious.
And I am scared.
No, that’s wrong.
I’m terrified.
My grandmother and Kendall were both right when they said I don’t like change, that I’m not a risk taker. Only it’s more than that.
Change, upheaval of any kind, reminds me of the early years of my childhood, when my mother and I would move every few weeks, going from one boyfriend’s apartment to another. Some of those moves were voluntary on my mother’s part, others not so much. In the case of the latter, we’d often have to leave our things behind and start over. I’d have to go to a new school, adjust to a new neighborhood, get new clothes, make new friends—or, after a while, not even bother to do the latter.
Why try to get close to anyone when in a few months I’d have to do it all over again?
Why risk putting myself out there when the payoff was so small?
It wasn’t until my grandparents took me in that I gained stability in my life, and I treasure it to this day. Change and the risk that comes with it are deeply unsettling for me. I need the comfort of the familiar, be it my worn-out clothes or my job or even the way people perceive me—as a bookish, slightly frumpy girl who, as Kendall pointed out last month, was turning into a stereotypical cat lady… a woman who can never be what a man like Marcus needs.
“Look, Ems,” Kendall says, and I again hear honking in the background. “I have to go now, but you should really think about your future and what you want. I know you still have doubts about Marcus’s intentions, but from where I’m sitting, the main obstacle in your relationship is you. If you want this to work, you can’t expect him to do all the heavy lifting. Spending time with your grandparents, welcoming your pets into his place, taking you to meet important-to-him people—he’s making room in his life for you and all your baggage. It’s up to you to do the same for him.”
She hangs up, and I sit in silence, staring out at the traffic.
She’s right, I know she’s right, but that doesn’t make it any easier to process.
True, I’ve already compromised by agreeing to let Marcus pay for stuff when he invites me out, by using his driver and flying on his plane and eating meals prepared by his chef. I let him stay at my grandparents’ house for the entire Thanksgiving weekend, and I’ve now spent two nights in a row at his place.
On the surface, I’ve done nothing but give in, but the reality of the matter is I haven’t compromised on anything truly important—not the way he has. He’s a neat freak who never wanted pets, yet he’s gone out of his way to embrace my fur babies. His dream partner is a glossy socialite, yet he hasn’t batted an eye at bringing me to an investor dinner wearing my cheap clothes and scuffed boots.
He has done all the heavy lifting in this relationship, and as strong and determined as he is, I can’t expect him to keep doing that.
I have to carry my fair share of the burden.
To make this work, I have to take a risk and embrace change.
35
Marcus
All morning long, I brainstorm ways to get Emma to stay
