Well Beyond

33

As Emma and I walked down the cobblestone path into town, the early morning air was crisp, carrying the fresh scent of pine from the nearby woods. The sun was just starting to rise, casting a golden hue over everything. I wrapped my jacket a little tighter around me, the warmth of the morning not yet reaching my skin. Beside me, Emma walked with a lightness in her step, her mood clearly improved by the prospect of an outing.

"So," she began, her tone teasing, "you and Erik... How was this morning?" She gave me a sidelong glance, her curiosity barely masked.

I rolled my eyes, though a smile tugged at the corners of my lips. "It was fine, nothing to get excited about," I replied, trying to keep my tone casual.

"Fine?" she echoed, her brow arching skeptically. "That's not what it looked like when I walked in this morning. You looked pretty cozy in his clothes."

My cheeks warmed at the reminder of our earlier encounter. "Okay, maybe it was a little more than fine," I admitted. "We had a... moment."

Emma's eyes lit up with interest. "A moment, huh? Do tell."

I hesitated, trying to find the right words. "He, um, caught me staring at his tattoos," I started, feeling my face flush again. "He was shirtless, and... well, you saw him. It's hard not to stare."

"Hard not to stare," Emma emphasized with a knowing smirk.

"Exactly," I nodded. "He explained that the tattoos are a kind of devotion—something bold and permanent, just like the bond."

Emma hummed thoughtfully. "That's intense, Delia. I mean, most guys show their devotion with a bouquet of flowers or something, not a full-body canvas."

"Yeah, it was a lot to take in," I admitted. "But then he said he didn't want to rush me, that we could go at my pace, and... I don't know, it made me feel like maybe I could trust him."

"Sounds like he's trying," Emma said, giving me a gentle nudge with her elbow. "But what about you? Are you ready to give him a chance?"

"I don't know," I sighed, kicking a small pebble along the path. "I'm still so confused. One minute I feel like I could actually let him in, and the next I'm terrified of what that would mean."

Emma was quiet for a moment, her playful demeanor softening. "It's okay to be scared, Delia. You've been through a lot, and no one expects you to have all the answers right away. But maybe you should listen to what your gut is telling you."

I nodded, appreciating her words but still unsure of how to proceed. "What about you? Anything new in your life?" I asked, hoping to shift the conversation away from my tangled emotions.

She shrugged. "Same old, same old. But you know I'm here for you, whatever you need."

We reached the small grocery store on the edge of town, and the bell above the door jingled as we walked in. The store was quaint, with wooden shelves filled with fresh produce and homemade goods. The scent of baked bread and ripe fruit filled the air, making my stomach growl in anticipation.

"We need strawberries and rhubarb," I said, grabbing a basket and leading the way to the produce section. "I'm making a pie for dessert tonight."

"Trying to win his heart through his stomach, huh?" Emma teased, picking through the strawberries.

"Something like that," I laughed. "Or at least showing him I can do more than run away."

"Well, I think it's a good plan. Everyone loves pie." She picked up a particularly plump strawberry and held it up for inspection. "Especially when it's made with love."