Everything After(58)

She walked to the couch and sat down with Zoe, singing the part about how those of tender years can’t know the fears their elders grew by.

“Crosby, Stills and Nash,” Ezra said, smiling. And he started singing along with her. She let him take the melody and sang the harmony. Even though the reason she’d started singing was to stop herself from crying, her tears fell anyway.

“This is what I want,” Emily said. “You and me, singing to a baby. Singing to our baby.”

Ezra leaned his head against hers. “I was afraid,” he said. “When you miscarried, I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to handle the heartbreak if I let myself feel anything at all. It was too much to bear, on top of everything else. I was afraid I would shatter.” Emily looked at her husband, and he was crying. “But this is what I want, too.”

The buzzer went off, startling all three of them. Zoe started crying, and while Emily tried to calm her, Ezra picked up the white phone next to their front door. “Thanks,” he said to the doorman on the other end of the line. “You can send her up.”

Then he walked back into the living room, where Emily was giving Zoe her bottle. “Her grandmother’s here,” he said.

Emily took a deep breath and wiped her eyes, preparing to be Dr. Gold again.





47



The doorbell rang, and Ezra opened it to a woman that Emily recognized immediately as Tessa’s mother. She had the same ski-slope nose, the same round cheeks.

“Where’s my grandbaby?” she asked.

Emily stood up with Zoe in her arms and walked toward the door. “Right here,” she said.

“Dr. Gold,” Tessa’s mom answered. “Thank you for keeping her. And thank you again for helping my daughter last night. And last year.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t do more,” Emily answered, handing Zoe over, thinking about the other ways this conversation could be going. The version where Emily hadn’t reached Tessa in time, where Zoe lost her mom.

“You kept both of them safe,” she said. “That’s enough.” She shook her head, too overcome with emotion to say more.

But had she? Emily wasn’t so sure. It had worked out okay but so easily couldn’t have. Were there signs she’d missed the last time Tessa was in her office? Questions she should have asked? Was she not as perceptive because she was thinking about her own loss? Not as focused because she was jealous of what Tessa had?

Ezra brought over the diaper bag, which Tessa’s mom slid over her shoulder. Then she looked back at Emily. “What do I do now?” she asked.

Emily looked into her eyes, which were the same deep brown as Tessa’s, and saw the love there.

“Go visit your daughter. Let the doctors there treat her. And then, if she were my daughter, I’d take her home. To Ohio. Take her and Zoe home with you, and make sure she knows that she’s not going through any of this alone.”

Tessa’s mother nodded. “I’ll take both my babies home.”

Emily put her hand on Tessa’s mom’s arm. “They’re lucky they have you,” she said.

Tessa’s mom smiled, thanked Emily again, and left.

Once the door closed, Emily leaned against Ezra, his strength keeping her upright.

“What a day,” he said.

“What a weekend,” she answered, not completely sure how she’d just managed to hold it together.

“What a week,” he answered back. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she said, rising up to kiss his cheek, not focusing on the fact that he left, just focusing on the fact that he was back, that he came when she called, that he was here, now, when she needed him.

He turned and she was kissing his lips, and then his arms were lifting her off the ground and gently laying her on the couch. He knelt down next to her. “How are you feeling?” he asked, compassion in his voice as he stroked her hair.

“I stopped bleeding,” she said. “But I’m not—”

“I know,” he said. “Not yet.”

He climbed onto the couch next to her, wrapping his arms around her, kissing her forehead. And then a phone on the living room table vibrated. Ezra turned and reached for it. “It’s yours,” he said, handing Emily her phone.

She looked at it, wondering if it was Tessa or her mom or Ari or one of her boys. But it wasn’t. It was Rob, his message visible once her phone unlocked at her touch. Just wanted to make sure you’re okay, it said. I’m sorry if I fucked stuff up last night.

Ezra looked at Emily and, his voice even, measured, said, “What’s that about?”

Emily knew she had to tell him the truth but was worried about what his response would be. “You promise you won’t run again?” she asked.

He winced. “I promise.”

“Short story: Rob is Austin Roberts, who wrote the song about me. He was in New York and invited me to an open mic night. So Priya and I went, and I played. And then he tried to convince me that I should go on tour with him. And . . .” She bit her lip. “He hinted at wanting more than that. From me.”

“But you said no?” Ezra looked ashen. “No to touring and no to . . . more?”

“I said no,” Emily affirmed. “And I left. And called you.”