All Good Things: The Final Fanfiction Saga

Chapter Eight: No Compromise

Later that night

"Emma, say something."

The girl was silent, folding a receipt into triangles in her hand. She had been doing bills when he knocked on her door, followed her into the kitchen and sat across from her at the table at which her family shared meals for years.

She'd kissed him warmly, asked if he wanted something to drink and set a glass of water in front of him, even though he declined.

She knew him that well.

The look on his face set off a tiny alarm in Emma's mind, but she tried to ignore it. She simply bustled herself about the kitchen, executing miniscule tasks, like searching for a paring knife she didn't need and straightening the oven mitts.

Emma, he had said. We need to talk.

But it was J.C. who did all the talking, in a rush explaining the day's events, the new deal and the argument that took place weeks ago. He didn't have to spell the rest out; Emma knew the dilemma that lay before him.

"What do you want me to say?" she said finally.

J.C. reached for her hand, eyes never leaving her face. "I don't know," he said, more to himself.

"Yes, you do."

He tilted his head in surprise, not expecting this blunt answer from her. "I do?"

She sat back in her chair and set the folded paper down. "You want me to give you a way out."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you want me to make it OK for you to record with Stevie Wonder and Brian McKnight. You want me to help ease your conscience."

"I'm not pushing you to do anything," J.C. answered, reaching for her hand across the table. "I'm just telling you so we can talk about it."

"No, J.C.," Emma said, shaking her head and yanking her hand from his clasp. "There isn't -- "

"Will you listen to me for a second?" J.C. interrupted, voice reflecting the obvious stress mounted on his conscience. Emma was silent.

"We can still go according to plan," he said slowly. "We can get married July 7, and just put off the honeymoon for a few weeks. I'm sure some time will open up before the song's release, and we can head to our vacation then. That wouldn't be so bad, would it?"

His gears began to churn, and he began to speak faster. "Or maybe we could just fly somewhere for a quick weekend, like Jamaica -- I know you always wanted to go there -- right after the wedding, and then after the single comes out we could do like, a whole European tour. For a whole month or something. What do you think about that?"

Emma had been staring at her fiancé as he spoke, electric blue eyes hopeful as he laid out his plan. He truly thought it would all work; this perfect alignment of business and pleasure, obligation and desires, pleasing the band and pleasing her. He squeezed and scrimped and pinched until he could present what he saw as the best compromise, the happy medium. And Emma found herself almost believing him.

Almost.

"You said you were taking a break," Emma said stonily.

J.C. hung his head in shame. "I know," he said, voice breaking. "Things changed. I --"

"And now these are the options," Emma interrupted, not asking a question.

J.C. was silent. Emma stared back at him and took a deep breath.

"There's one more," she said solemnly. "We could not get married July 7."

He leaned forward, wide-eyed. "I'm sorry?"