Feeling completely sober by the time we get into our apartment, I turn to face the man I fell in love with three years ago when I hear the door click closed behind him.

“You don’t want kids?” I slip off my coat and toss it toward the couch, watching him shake his head. “Since when?”

“A while.”

“A while,” I repeat as I stare at him. What does that even mean? A week, a year, a few months? “You never said anything.”

“We’re happy.”

“You’re happy,” I whisper, and his chin jerks back like I’ve struck him. “I want more.”

“Emma.”

“I want to get married, even if it is just a stupid piece of paper. I want to wear a white dress and stand in front of the people I love as I make a vow to the person meant for me. And I want kids. I want to be a mom.” I press my fist against my chest over my heart, which feels like it’s trying to escape through my ribs. “I want to shove all the love my parents left inside of me into another human, who will soak it all up and share it, so someone, somewhere will be reminded there is more good than bad in this world.” I drag in a deep breath as tears slide down my cheeks. “So, you’re happy, but I’m not, because even though I love you, I don’t know that it’s enough to make me forget just how much I’ll be missing out on if I give up on a dream I’ve had since I can remember.”

“I love you.” Those three words. God, I wanted to hear those words so badly when I knew I was in love with him. I used to go home after each date and pray he was feeling even a little of what I was.

“I know.” I swallow, wishing that was enough, that his love could hold me over for the next fifty or sixty years of my life. But I’m not sure it will.

“Emma.” He walks toward me and wraps me in a hug. “Don’t be angry.”

I’m not. I’m not anything right now. I feel hollow.

“I just… I just need some time to think,” I whisper, stepping out of his hold as I wipe the wetness from my cheeks.

“I’ll give you whatever time you need,” he says quietly, and I nod, then turn and walk to our bedroom, closing the door behind me.

Getting undressed, I crawl into bed and stare at the door, hoping that if I just give him some time, he’ll come in here and tell me that he didn’t mean what he said.

But he never comes.

Chapter 2

Emma