Emily and River meet in Miami, where they have the time of their lives, but it isn't meant to be: the next morning, Emily leaves for San Francisco, leaving both their hearts broken. They don't think they'll ever see each other again.
Emily goes back...
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"As much as I like this," River eventually said after minutes of silence, still holding her in his arms, "we can't keep sitting here forever." Time was running out, and a quick glance at his watch made him aware of how much had passed.
"I know," she said, sighing. She wiped away her tears and looked to the side, where she caught herself in the mirror. "Oh no..." She wiped her hands dry with a lost tissue on the bed and stared at her reflection. "And Laurel worked so hard on this!"
River guessed it was the makeup she was talking about and had to admit it wasn't looking the best anymore with her red skin showing and splotches of eyeshadow spread across her face.
"Don't worry about it," he said, mostly to keep her from stressing out. "I'm sure Laurel can fix it."
She didn't seem to listen as she stroke her dress to get some wrinkles out and stood up from the bed. "I'm sorry for dumping all of this on you," she said. "I'm a bit wacky today."
The corners of his mouth had a slight curl to them. "That's understandable," he said.
"This is just..." she continued, but she seemed to have trouble expressing her emotions through words without crying. Her head turned towards the window and she stared outside at the flying geese in the distance. "This is not how I imagined my wedding to be."
A wedding day was about finding the right guy, having an amazing day and feeling pretty while surrounded the ones you love. Wasn't that what everyone said? And when Emily had dreamt about her big day, she had envisioned that—not a guy she met in February messing with her head.
"I'm sorry," River felt obliged to say.
"It's my fault too," she said. She sat down in the chair before the mirror, but, unlike what River expected her to do, she didn't pick up one of the many tools on the table in front of her. Instead, she sat without moving and just stared at her reflection. Because of that, he remained frozen in his place too.
He felt guilty. It was because of him that she felt this way; he'd ruined everything. What was supposed to be a beautiful day had become a day of worry.
"Should I leave?" he asked quietly.
She shook her head.
"Can I help with anything?" he asked then.
She shook her head again.
He felt like a burden and just standing there wasn't helping, but he didn't seem to have any other solution. Silence reigned in the room while they both didn't know what to do.
"Do you want to see them?" she whispered then, interrupting silence.
"See what?" he asked.
"My wrists."
The scars?
"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice trembling.
She nodded. "I am." She turned in her chair and faced him now.
