Wendi Nunnery - The Next Best Thing

a novel

Copyright 2017 Wendi Nunnery

All rights reserved. No portion of this bookmay be reproduced in any form without permission from thepublisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

This is a work of fiction.Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products ofthe author simagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actualpersons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or localesis entirely coincidental.

ISBN: 1539017028

ISBN-13: 978-1539017028

Cover design: Lindsay Miller

Editor: Steph Whiteacre

Visit theauthor swebsite at www.wendinunnnery.com .

Printed in the United States of America

To Lucy, forever my next best thing.

Acknowledgments

ChapterOne

ChapterTwo

ChapterThree

ChapterFour

ChapterFive

ChapterSix

ChapterSeven

ChapterEight

ChapterNine

ChapterTen

ChapterEleven

ChapterTwelve

ChapterThirteen

ChapterFourteen

ChapterFifteen

ChapterSixteen

ChapterSeventeen

ChapterEighteen

ChapterNineteen

ChapterTwenty

Epilogue

About theAuthor

This bookwould not have been possible without the people who supported myfirst novel. Because of their excitement, encouragement, and love,I decided to move forward with The Next Best Thing and I m so glad that I did.Thank you all for caring so much about this story. And aboutme.

To Cailyn and Lauren, my earliest readerswho took entire weekends out of their lives to read the first draftand offer feedback, you made me remember what I had forgotten inthe haze of writing for months on end: This is a story worthtelling. Love you both.

To my editor and fearless co-leader, Steph,for your mad editing skills and, most importantly, yourfriendship.

To Lindsay, for your generosity andwillingness to share your talent. Thank you for making this bookbeautiful.

To Jennifer for giving this bay boy a title.And to MB for the inspiration.

To my small group, my tribe, thank you foralways loving me without reservation. And for celebrating with mealong the way.

To all my dear friends and loved ones whooffered sweet thoughts and comments during this process. Your wordskept me going.

To my readers,for asking questions and choosing this story. There are so manywonderful books you could be reading, and I m eternallygrateful that you would pick mine. Thank you.

To my husband,Pierce, for loving both Monica AND Phoebe. And to our baby girl,Lucy, who isn t a baby anymore.Everything I write is for you.

To my whole family, for showing me how graceworks. And to my Savior, Who lived it on my behalf.

Emma Fraser took one look at her ringingcell phone and decided shed had enough of conversations shecouldnt change. So she tossed it aside and pulled her laptopcloser, hoping to finish the final paper that was due onFriday.

Christmasbreak was coming up and Emma had spent nearly three weeks on thatpaper. As she rustled through the stacks of print-outs encirclingher on the floor, fatigue and worry pulled atEmma s limbs. She had never worked harder on an assignmentthan she had on this one. Ancient Christianity was the moststrenuous class Emma had taken at Georgia Southern University sofar, and Emma s professor had azero-tolerance policy for absences. Not a single one was allowed,even for sick days. As she fingered the rogue staple caught in thesleeve of her sweater, Emma s guilt over passingher cold on to the professor a few weeks ago subsided. It servedhim right for making Emma come to class with a fever of one-hundredand one.

But the upside to taking an upper levelhistory class to finish out her core was Emma could now answer anytrivia question about iconoclasm in the Byzantine era.

Where is thatstupid journal? Emma muttered to herself as she scanned the pages thatlittered her bedspread. She thumbed through a packet of stapledacademic journals until she found it.

Ha! she saidtriumphantly, raising the journal above her head. Now she couldfinish the outrageously long bibliography.

Emma s cell phone rang asecond time. She closed her eyes and sighed. If shedidn t answer, Elsie would just keep calling.

Emma slid herfinger across the screen, put the call on speaker, and held thephone close to her lips. Hi Elsie, she saidflatly.

Hey, Elsie saidbreathlessly, sounding relieved that Emma had picked up. A pinprickof guilt stabbed Emma in the chest. What are youdoing?

Avoidingyou , Emma thought, and thenhated herself for it.

Just workingon a paper right now. It s duetomorrow.

Oh, Elsiesaid, a note of sadness in her voice. Well, can youtalk?

Emma mouthedthe word No to her phone but said, Sure, for a fewminutes. What sup?

The answer was always the same.

Andy .

Idon t know what happened, Emma, honestly. One minutewe re engaged, and the next minute he s tellingme the whole relationship is over. I don t understandwhat I did wrong.

This was thepart when Emma normally told Elsie that she hadn t doneanything wrong. That Andy just wasn t ready for that kindof commitment. That she would find someone else who would treat herthe way she deserved to be treated. None of which was entirelyfalse.

But realitywas a different story altogether. Their story the storyof what happened between Emma, Elsie, and Andy was awound that had never finished healing. Nothing would ever be thesame as it was just a few short years ago.

Youdidn t do anything wrong, Elsie, Emma assuredher, falling right back into her old routine. Andy justwasn t ready to commit himself to someone for life. Noteven you. And that s his cross to bear,not yours.

Emma couldalmost see Elsie nodding to herself. She sniffed and took a deep,shuddering breath. You reright, Elsie said, sounding like a little girl. I need to get the hell over him.

It s okay to besad, Emma said, backpedaling, not wanting Elsie to feel rejectedagain.

I know. Ijust don t know what I m going to do now. Ithink that s the hardestpart.

Emma knew exactly what she meant.

Four yearsago, Elsie, Andy, and Emma had lost a friend. A first love.Andy s older brother, Jesse, had taken his own life justweeks before graduation and not a single one of them had reallyrecovered from the events that led up to his death. Or from thegrief that followed.

It was hard tobelieve Emma and Andy had been friends for close to ten years. Thetime had passed so quickly at first, and then so slowly, that Emmafelt like they d known each otherfor both minutes and centuries. At one time,they d been close simply because they wanted to be, butthese days it was hard not to believe their friendship was heldtogether only by Jesse s memory. And attimes it was a tenuous connection. Nothing would bring Jesse back.And Emma faced this reality head-on every single morning. Sometimesshe would have nightmares that Jesse was drowning, suffocating, orcalling out to her for help. And she would be paralyzed, her mouthopen, ready to scream, but silent. And Jesse would slip beneath thewaves every time, still shouting her name.

The counselorEmma had seen more than once since she started college told Emmaher dream was less about stopping Jesse s death and moreabout needing to let go of the guilt she carried. But guilt wascomfortable for Emma, like a downy winter coat. She wore it welland whenever she d laugh a little toolong, or think someone on campus was attractive, or get excitedabout a good grade, Emma would suddenly remember Jesse and pullthat coat up a little higher. Guilt kept her hidden.

Not long ago,Emma s mother had told her hiding wasn t going todo any good. But what her mother didn t understand was thatguilt was the very thing keeping Emma safe.