He Took Her To The Lake We Promised To See Together Chapter 10

He Took Her To The Lake We Promised To See Together Chapter 10

One year later, the Southwest Heritage Imaging Project officially came to an end.

The short documentary I’d helped shoot, After the Lights Fade, was selected for the Emerging

Filmmakers Showcase.

I returned to Boston for opening night.

Rachel met me at the airport and handed me an offer letter for another project.

“We’re documenting historic towns across the Southwest next. Want to stay on with the field

crew?”

I flipped to the last page and signed my name immediately.

“I’m in.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t want a few days to think about it?”

“No.”

I used to make every decision with Ethan in mind.

Would he like it? Would he agree? Would he leave me because of it?

Now I finally understood that my life didn’t need anyone else’s permission.

Ethan came to the showcase opening.

He stood in the last row of the screening room, noticeably thinner than he’d been a year earlier.

The studio had shut down.

Mason had moved to another city, and Sophie had cut ties with Ethan completely.

Mutual friends had mentioned those things from time to time.

I never asked for details.

I didn’t care anymore.

After the screening, Ethan stopped me near the exit.

He was holding the travel journal and our matching watches.

“Emma, can we talk?”

I stopped.

He held one of the watches out to me.

“I had it repaired.”

“I kept the apartment. I even remodeled it using the sketches you made back then.”

“If you’re willing, we can start over.”

I didn’t take the watch.

“Ethan, you still don’t understand.”

“I didn’t leave because I was waiting for you to change.”

His hand went still in midair.

“Sophie and I are over.”

“The studio is gone too.”

“From now on, no matter what happens, I’ll choose you first.”

I looked at him calmly.

“But every time I needed you to choose me, you didn’t.”

“When my stomach was killing me, you went to the Christmas fair with her.”

“You left our matching ornaments unhung so you could hang hers.”

“I waited for you at the pier, and you left with her to deal with the camera.”

“And after I’d waited four years to spend Christmas at Moonsea Lake with you, you kissed her

there.”

I paused.

“It wasn’t one mistake.”

“Every time there was a choice to make, you decided I could wait a little longer.”

Ethan’s eyes slowly reddened.

“Then what were those four years?”

“They were four years when I loved you with everything I had.”

“And four years was long enough for me to realize that we weren’t right for each other”

He tightened his grip on the watch, his voice rough.

“What if I keep waiting?”

I remembered being eighteen, with his hand wrapped around mine as he told me that once we reached the end of the Moonsea Promenade, we would step into the next chapter of our lives together.

Later, I learned that not every road two people start together has to end with them side by side.

“Don’t wait.”

“I don’t need you anymore.”

I turned and walked out of the exhibition hall.

Rachel and the rest of the project team were waiting outside.

Someone suggested going to Moonsea Lake to see the Christmas lights.

I didn’t say no.

When I stepped onto Silver Arch Bridge again, the waterfront was just as lively as I remembered.

People carried glowing reindeer lanterns. Others posed for photos under the old oak tree, and the elderly vendor who sold personalized Christmas wish ornaments was still at the same stall.

1 Rachel asked if I wanted one.

I chose a plain ornament with no names printed on it.

This time, I didn’t make a wish about staying with anyone forever.

I wrote only one sentence across its surface.

[May the road ahead be kind to Emma Parker.]

I hung the ornament on the lakeside Christmas tree.

It turned slowly in the evening breeze, catching the lights as it moved.

At the end of the Moonsea Promenade, my coworkers had already set up a camera and were waving

me over.

“Emma, come on! We’re only missing you.”

I walked toward them, and they pulled me into the middle of the frame.

When the shutter clicked, no one was missing, and no one had to stand outside the frame.

At eighteen, I’d believed Ethan had to be there at the end of the promenade.

At twenty-three, I finally understood.

Moonsea was never the point.

Leaving the wrong person didn’t mean losing my future.

Ethan wasn’t at the end of the promenade.

I was.

And for the first time, I was walking toward a life that was entirely my own.