Dani The chime of an email arriving pulls my attention away from the job application on my screen. Emil’s name stares back at me, and my heart starts to thump. Emailing him today wasn’t part of the plan. The plan was to start applying for jobs, come up with a broader life plan, and start over. Just your typical Tuesday, basically. Last week, I emailed some old contacts in the industry and asked if there were any job openings. I know I’m having a baby soon, but I’d love if I could find something part time, or maybe some sort of remote work... anything that would bring me back to my chosen career path. I can’t ke ep running away from it. If I can get just one foot in the environmental engineering/tech development world... even the outskirts of it... it’ll be a st ep in the right direction. I’ll do anything to use my brain. But Emil’s name on my screen makes me want to curl up in a ball and forget the world exists. With a de ep breath, I click to open it. Dani, You were right. My brows jump. That’s a good start to an email. I was punishing you for my past with Callie. I was punishing Callie for our past with each other. I can’t bear the thought of losing you because of my own stubbornness. Give me a chance. If you’d rather I not contact you, just tell me. I’ll respect your wishes. Emil. Staring at the screen, my vision starts to go fuzzy. Then I remember to breathe. I close my eyes and toss the phone aside, shaking my head. I decided. It’s done. Emil showed me the kind of man he is, and I know it’s not what I want from my life. I want to be a role model for my child. I want to have my own life, not just slot into someone else’s. Yes, he has money. He has lavish properties. He can give me a standard of living higher than anything I could imagine. But that’s not the same as having a fulfilling life. I go back to my job application and ignore my phone for the rest of the day. The next morning, there’s another email from Emil. This time, he tells me how he felt when he first saw me on the red carpet of the Summer Ball. Like lightning in my veins, he writes. A short message, but one that sends me reeling. Still, I don’t respond. I don’t tell him to stop, even though he r epeats that if I just give him the word, he’ll go away. The ball is totally in your court and I respect that, he says. I put my phone aside and go for a long walk through the woods, using nature and fresh air to clear the cobwebs from my mind. When I climb into bed that night, I haven’t figured anything out.
The next morning, there’s another email waiting for me. This time, Emil has attached a r eport by one of his summer intern applicants. It’s clever, he tells me, and he wishes I were there to give him my comments. Despite everything inside me screaming that it’s a bad idea, I open the r eport and read through it. My fingers tremble as I hold myself back from r eplying with my opinion. I can’t. I just can’t. I know what he’s doing—he’s reminding me of all the things I loved about living with him. All the ways we fit together so perfectly it hurts to think of leaving him. But what about me? What about my life? What about the baby? Squeezing my eyes shut, press my hands to my eyes and let out a low sob. I need to tell Emil about this baby, but I need to do it on my terms. If he turns around and blames me for it, accuses me of trying to entrap him, it’ll kill me. I’ll never forgive him. Whatever pieces are left of my heart now, it’ll be in ribbons by the time he’s done with it. I need to protect myself. I don’t respond. The next morning, another email. This one is about how I made him realize in trying to protect his kids, he was hemming them in and blocking them from growing and learning. The Eldridge twins’ birthday party taught him he was wrong. He says without me, he would have stifled the kids the same way he stifled his marriage. The thought of the kids—of that birthday party—makes my stomach fist. Staring out the window, the low, grey clouds press down on me. I’ll get drenched if I go out there today. Reading Emil’s email once more, I shake my head and grab a rain jacket. When I get home, soaked to the bone and shivering, I’m no closer to figuring out what to do. I miss Emil desperately, but I know if I go back to Manhattan, I’ll lose myself. But staying away from him—isn’t that a kind of loss, too? When I wake up the following day, Emil’s email is simply a link to an article from one of my favorite tech magazines and the words, Thought you’d find this interesting. The other new email in my inbox is a response from one of my old contacts, telling me he might have some casual work for me to do. Nothing close to my skill level—mostly just data entry and r eport writing—but it’s a foot in the door. It’s a st ep in the right direction. l acc ept the position. This time when I go for a walk, I can’t help letting a smile tug at my lips. It took me over four years, but I’m finally facing my fears. I’m going back to the industry that starred in my nightmares. I stood up to Richard and I told Emil how I felt. I’m strong. I’ll be the type of woman my baby can look up to. Every day, Emil sends me a message. Sometimes they’re short, just a few words. Sometimes they’re tech-related. Sometimes they’re heartfelt. All of them make me cry. After a week, I find myself waking up and looking at my phone just to see his name pop up on the screen. I don’t respond, though. I can’t. What can I say? A few messages don’t make up for the way he treated me. It doesn’t change the fact that our relationship was unbalanced. He had all the power, and I had none. I can’t live like that. I can’t run back to him. Days, weeks later, I wake up to yet another email from Emil, and I’m not surprised. I open it with eyes still groggy from sle ep, the sun barely poking above the horizon. I still haven’t responded, but he’s emailed me every day. And every day, I’ve looked forward to it a little bit more.
Dani, he writes. When I told you I wanted a relationship with you, I wasn’t lying, but I realize now that I hadn’t thought things through. You were still my nanny, not my partner. You were my employee. The dynamic of our relationship wasn’t fair to you. I want you to know I understand that now, and I understand why you told me it wouldn’t work. But what I want to tell you is I don’t want a nanny. I don’t want a childcare provider. I want a strong, intelligent woman by my side who will put me in my place when I st ep out of line. I want a partner I can spoil and treat like a queen. I want you. It feels like a spear to my chest. I read the email three times over, crying the whole time. Is it wrong that I think he understands? A sliver of hope cracks inside me, like dawn breaking. I want to r eply. For the first time in weeks, I find myself opening a message and typing his name. Maybe he understands. Maybe this could work. But that bit of golden hope scares the absolute shit out of me. If I let Emil back in, how do I know he won’t explode at me again? How do I know he won’t blame me for another woman’s mistakes? How do I know he’s truly committed to change? And with the baby... I squeeze my eyes shut. If Emil were to say all these beautiful things to me, then turn around and reject me and my child, it would kill me. Just absolutely destroy me. Forever. Maybe it’s better to protect myself. I close the email and delete my draft response, ignoring my phone for the rest of the day. Bonnie ends up calling me that evening. The darkness outside is absolute, but the house is warm and cozy. I curl up on a sofa with a fuzzy throw over my legs and swipe my cell phone’s screen to take her call. “Hey girl,” she says. “How are you?” “I’m okay,” I say, surprised to realize it’s the truth. I tell Bonnie about the work I’ve been doing and how good it feels to be using my brain again. I tell her about my walks, about how great this house is, about my daily routine. I don’t mention Emil’s messages. “How’s the baby?” “Good,” I say. “I have an ultrasound appointment tomorrow morning. They said I’d find out if it’s a boy or a girl.” Bonnie whistles. “So, what’s that, twenty weeks or something?” “Y ep.” I tuck my blanket under my legs. “How did you know? Do you have my pregnancy milestones marked on your calendar?” “Girl, I’ve been reading more baby books than you have.” I laugh, warmth spreading through my chest. “You’re a good friend, Bonnie.” “Right back at you.” I can hear the smile in Bonnie’s voice. After a breath, she tells me all about her day at work and a date she went on the night before. “Sounds like you kind of like this guy, Bon.” A wistful sigh. “I do.” Biting my lip, I close my eyes and settle into the cushions. “Emil has been emailing me,” I whisper. Silence stretches between us. “Bonnie?” She clears her throat, then answers in a neutral, blank tone. “What has he been saying?”
“All kinds of stuff. Mostly how great I am.” Bonnie laughs. “Can’t blame him.” “He also sends me articles he thinks I’d be interested in. Last week he sent me a picture Talia drew of me, telling me how much she misses me, which I thought was a low blow.” “Definitely a low blow.” Bonnie chuckles, then lets out a sigh. “Have you been encouraging him?” “I haven’t said a word.” “Oh, jeez.” Curling up on my side, I watch as rain starts to fall outside. Soon, it’ll be snow. Will I still be in Bonnie’s place when the world is blanketed in white? Alone, pregnant, doing entry-level data entry work from my friend’s vacation home? I squeeze my eyes shut. No more running. No more hiding. “I think I’m going to answer tomorrow,” I whisper. “Yeah?” “I... I’m more scared that he’ll stop emailing me than I am of facing him now. But people don’t change, Bonnie. How can I go back to him when he treated me the way he did?” I think of Richard and the way he turned things around on me. He’s still cruel. Still power-hungry. Still vindictive. “You changed,” Bonnie says quietly. “People change if they want to, and I think Emil Van der Berg wants to change.” “I don’t know,” I say quietly, not wanting to admit that she’s right. Because if I admit that Emil could change, then why am I hiding out in Vermont? Why am I avoiding answering his messages? “Well, all I’m saying is I better be your maid of honor, otherwise I’ll never speak to you again.” Laughing, I shake my head. “You’re getting ahead of yourself, Bonnie. He could turn around and accuse me of getting pregnant to steal all his millions.” “You’re so cute when you’re trying to be bitter. Reminds me of how you were when we met.” I grin, and after a few more minutes of chatting, we hang up. Gulping, I lean back on the sofa and think of Bonnie’s words. She’s right—I’ve changed, and I’ve changed a lot. I’ve gone from an angry, scared person to a woman who’s facing her past and moving forward. I’m getting ready to be a mother. I’m becoming a person I’m proud to be. Tomorrow, I’ll answer Emil’s email. I’ll tell him I’m willing to speak to him, to see where things go. Whatever he says to me in the morning, I’ll answer and I’ll tell him I’m ready to talk. Tomorrow morning, everything will change.