Emmie Marsden, Emmie Marsden, I am Emmie Marsden.
Closing her eyes, Emmie sank to her knees, leaning back against a sack of pastry flour. The clink of pans in the adjacent kitchen along with the commotion of the restaurant floor beyond it -- all chaotic as roaring rapids, were subdued to a gently flowing stream in here. She had sought the quiet of the pantry immediately after telling Trisha that her brother wanted to speak with her. Her retreat from the front of the restaurant was poorly timed: the other server, Rosa, had her hands full, her own customers were waiting for their food and she barely knew the menu much less the rules for working at the diner. Plus, it had been years since she'd waited tables. It was all coming back to her-memorizing orders, juggling drinks, avoiding getting burnt by plates kept under the hot lamp too long. There was a lot to get used to again.
She needed to be out on the floor, serving coffee and hamburgers and root beer floats. Besides, there was no reason she should be this rattled. Trisha's brother was arrogant, that was for sure. Seriously, who would even think to put their own image on a robot's body and make that their company logo? It sounded comically horrible. She bet it wasn't Ryker who nixed that idea in the end. That would have required way too much self-reflection. Truly, Ryker had come across as conceited, yes, but at the same time, he hadn't intentionally done anything to warrant the panic attack she felt rising up in her chest.
It had been one simple, innocent sentence he'd uttered, three words that made her brain go irrationally haywire: "You're not Gena."
No, she wasn't Gena; she'd never even met Gena. He'd scrutinized her so closely when he'd said those words, though, that she couldn't help but think, you're not Emmie Marsden either.
It was still difficult to convince herself that she was no long Aimee Larson, an identity she had worn for the first twenty-nine years of her life. Up until one week ago, she'd never even heard of this Emmie Marsden woman she was now expected to become. She'd been living in Moon Beach, Oregon for only four days and had been employed at Iola's Eats for less than twenty-four hours. To be frank, all of this change in such a short amount of time was a lot to get used to.
Emmie took a deep breath, grasping the rungs of a metal supply shelf as she pulled herself up to stand. A jar of pickles met her at eye level. No irony there. She took a deep breath.
I am Emmie. Emmie Marsden.
She'd almost slipped when talking with Ryker. His disarming smile, his casual, sexy demeanor, exuding the confidence of someone who knew he was entitled to everything that they had, and then some-it had thrown her. She'd nearly introducing herself as Aimee. She couldn't ever let that happen again.
Aimee Larsen could never reveal herself to him, or to anyone....
Amidst cans of stewed tomatoes and more dill pickles than should be in one place, Emmie swayed, letting a wave of nausea pass over her. She may have just been overwhelmed, but it was also possible that the queasiness indicated something more, the sort of something more many women experienced in her situation.
She clutched the shelf and took several more long, slow breaths. New name, new town, new life, and a new role within that new life: mother.
With all of the many dramatic life changes she'd undergone in recent weeks, finding out she was pregnant had proven the most challenging. If circumstances had been different, if she'd been able to tell the baby's father, or anyone back home for that matter, maybe it would have been cause to celebrate. Instead, she'd had to hide her pregnancy from everyone, the desire to protect her child overruling the desire to tell everyone that it existed. Up until yesterday, no one but Emmie knew.
Lost in thought, she barely heard Trisha when she called out to her.
"Emmie, are you okay?" She rushed over and gently placed a hand on Emmie's shoulder.
"Yes, I just... I needed a moment. I'm sorry, I know we're busy."
Trisha looked at her with concern. A stab of longing hit Emmie when she realized her new boss reminded her of her older sister.
"Don't worry about it. Believe me, I know how brutal the first trimester can be."
Emmie nodded. It still surprised her that after keeping her pregnancy from her family and friends, it had felt so natural to confide her state to a complete stranger. She'd seen the help wanted sign in the diner window the day before. The money the she'd been given to sustain her during her relocation wouldn't last forever. She'd made enough to support herself waiting tables in college. So why not? Trisha hired her after a short interview, but instead of parting ways when the paperwork was finished, they'd ended up talking for hours.
Emmie had always made friends easily. She loved chatting about anything from fashion and art to politics and current affairs. But mainly, she loved surrounding herself with people she could confide in. Until recently, every aspect of her life was known to her friends. She enjoyed the reputation she'd earned both at work and in her personal life as an honest person. "Honest Aim," her friends sometimes called her. It was a nickname she was proud to lay claim to.
The way she figured it, why keep secrets from those you love? Now, of course, everything in her life occurring more than five days ago was a secret. She did her best to avoid talking about her past with Trisha, and Trisha, seeming to sense Emmie's hesitancy, made sure never to pry. Perhaps it was that consideration that made Emmie reveal the one secret she'd guarded so closely.
"I want you to know, Trisha... I'm pregnant. The father is not in the picture and I won't be talking about him, so please don't ask. I plan to work until the baby arrives and then after as well."
Trisha had remained nonplussed. "I thought you had that glow to you. I didn't want to say anything. It sounds like the situation is delicate, but can I offer you a congratulations? Or maybe just a hug?"
Emmie had accepted both.
Now, just one day later, Trisha was once again providing Emmie with much needed comfort. "I'm okay now. I should get back to work. Is ... is your brother still out there?"
Trisha scowled. "Did he say something to upset you? That man!"
"No!" Emmie took a step away from the shelf and, finding that she was steady, began to walk towards the pantry door. "I was curious, that's all."
Trisha gave her a knowing grin. "He got a call from the office and had to leave. It's a Ryker-free restaurant now."
Emmie wasn't sure if she was disappointed or relieved. Ryker had certainly complicated her emotions, but she had to admit she hadn't totally hated the attention he'd given her. He was, after all, a gorgeous man. Green eyes framed with black lashes, dark wavy hair, several days of stubble accenting a strong jawline. After everything that had happened to her, she was surprised to find herself attracted to him. As much as she may try to deny it, she wasn't immune to Ryker James' charms. Unfortunately, he was also entitled, self-righteous, and oblivious to anything that wasn't about himself. Plus, she was still having a hard time remembering her new name. For that matter, she was still struggling to accept the fact that she had to have a new name.
Even remotely contemplating acting on her hormonal desires was laughable, though. Not to mention the fact that she was pregnant. Little Bean had to be her first priority. Always.
Undoubtedly, she'd be seeing more of Ryker, and although he was friend and family to the rest of the employees at Iola's Eats, he would be nothing more than a customer to her. That's how it had to be. She would be building her new life here in Moon Beach over the months to come. And it would be without her baby's father, without Ryker, without any man.
She would be building it alone.
A/N: Wow, that's a pretty big secret Emmie has been carrying around with her. There are other secrets too. We'll be hearing more about them in the coming weeks as we explore Emmie's back story. Care to guess what has landed her in Moon Beach, far from where she grew up? Where's the baby's dad and why couldn't she tell anyone she's pregnant?
Thanks a ton for your support on this story. It means so much to me that you've made it two updates in. For your loyalty, please accept a jar of virtual pickles. You're welcome!
Don't forget to fill in that lonely little star before you leave. Votes from this update will go to purchase Emmie a pair of acupressure bracelets to help with the nausea. I used them when I was pregnant and they helped at bit. I'm hoping they do the trick for Emmie! She was just telling me that the smell of french fries has been making her feel sick, which is not a good thing, given where she works.
Today's update is dedicated to my Wattpad bestie, contest pal, and amazing writer KristineInchausti. Check out everything on her profile, guys and give her a follow. She's incredible!