“Thank you, Chelsea.”
She’d long since given up offering to bring anything. No one took her up on it. She didn’t blame them.
When Emma was in the kitchen with her mother, she knew there was a reason for it. “Are you in love with Warren?”
She stopped and stared at the woman as if she’d lost her mind. “What?”
“Emma. It’s a serious question. Do you even know if you are?”
She thought for a moment. “I don’t know. How will I know?”
“And this is what I have worried about for years,” her mother said. “You write about romance, but you only write about what youthinksomething should be and not what you know.”
“I research everything so that I can know it,” she argued. “But you can’t just make that up. I see enough love and relationships in my family to depict it well.”
“Well enough for your readers to believe it and that is what matters. But I want to know if you believe it. Or are in it?”
“Of course, I believe in love,” she said, waving her hand. “I’ve never said otherwise.”
“You’re doing all the things that would lead me to believe you. I guess my question is why you aren’t trying more.”
“How can you say that? I just put a home gym in my house for him.”
“You did,” her mother said. “And I think that’s a wonderful thing. Actions show more than words and you’ve spent most of your life dealing with words.”
She’d heard that enough.
“That’s right,” she said. “I’m showing him lots of actions that I care.”
“But you haven’t gone to him once,” her mother said.
Her shoulders dropped. “I seriously didn’t know he wanted me to.”
“Emmaaaaaa,” her mother said with a long sigh. “You can’t be that naive, can you?”
“I don’t know,” she said, confused. “Is it horrible that I didn’t think much of it?”
“A little,” her mother said, holding her fingers up in a pinch. “But you are thinking of him and trying to make it more comfortable for him to come to you. It can’t always be your way.”
“I know,” she said. “And in a few weeks, he’s going to be busy.”
“You can write anywhere,” her mother said. “And if you need me to watch your cat, I can do that.”
“It’s as I said. Lucky would be fine for days easily. Maybe a week.”
“No,” her mother said. “Just becauseyoudon’t need human contact for weeks on end doesn’t mean other people or animals don’t. This isn’t about Lucky having food and water and a place to sleep. A day or so is one thing if you have to. Figure it out and bring the cat to me, or if I have to come to the island and check in on him for a bit I will.”
“What snacks do you have?” she asked. “Let’s get them out there.”
“Which is your way to end this conversation,” her mother said.
Her mother opened the fridge and pulled out a few platters. Some cut-up vegetables and an avocado dip. That was almost as funny as what her mother wrote in the book for Warren. Her mother had an excellent memory if she remembered the midnight snack Warren had at the casino on their first date.
“I’ll grab this,” she said of the veggies and dip. “And the meat and cheese platter. I want that.”
“I’ve got the other two,” her mother said.
They walked back toward the family room that led to the deck. That was where everyone was now under the awning in the shade.
