The Rom-Commers

Center uses selective truth telling as a way to reflect her characters’ coping strategies and vulnerabilities; it also reflects the anticipation that she believes is central to romance novels. Throughout the novel, Emma grapples with her place as a narrator and what she should tell her audience, particularly when explaining the family tragedy that killed her mother and left her father partially paralyzed. When she first mentions the accident, she notes, “That’s the long story short. I’m leaving out a lot here. I’m leaving out the worst part, in fact. But that’s enough for now” (15), showing that Emma cannot give words to her guilt. Like Center, Emma is a storyteller who knows the value of suspense. She tells Charlie about “information gaps” and how they help move a story forward. As she tells the stories of her own tragedies as a narrator, she paces them to build suspense, but as a character, she also does not want to dwell on the information that is painful to her. For example, when her father is hospitalized, Emma tells her audience, “My father didn't die. Maybe that's a spoiler—but we've all been through a lot so far. If you were anywhere near as worried as I was, I thought you might need some good news as soon as possible” (232).

For both Emma and Charlie, the selective revealing and concealing of aspects of their stories allows them to hide their vulnerabilities yet prevents them from becoming closer. Emma controls how she reveals the details of the accident both to the reader and to Charlie, and that control reflects how deeply she has buried her guilt. After the camping accident, Emma falls into believing a narrative that the accident was her fault and that she should, therefore, be responsible for all of the consequences, including devoting her life to caring for her father and Sylvie rather than pursuing her dreams. It is only when she leaves the day-to-day responsibilities of caregiving that she reveals more aspects of that narrative to the reader and then to Charlie. Further, it is only when she faces a situation she cannot control—when Charlie’s car is stuck on a hilltop ledge—that her selective truth telling gives way to complete honesty. This honesty is a pivotal moment for her character, and her vulnerability brings her closer to Charlie.

Charlie uses selective truth telling to hide not guilt but fear. When he is afraid, he pretends not to care, denying rather than hiding the truth of how he feels. He does this to hide his fear and hurt and protect those he cares about by sparing the hurt of future loss. His fears are real: He already lost his first wife over his cancer diagnosis, and her departure hurt him very much. His concerns are also real: He knows that if he lets Emma into his life as his partner, she may well again find herself a caregiver at best or a grieving lover at worst. Because he never tells Emma about his (misdiagnosed) relapse, she doesn’t know what he’s hiding. This omission creates a barrier between them until the climax, where all is revealed when Logan shares the video, and Emma rushes into the awards ceremony.

As Emma points out, living is “all about writing the very best story of your life. Not just how you live it—but how you choose to tell it” (270). By the end of the novel, the two storytellers have learned that storytelling in life ultimately involves truth-telling, and telling stories in an open way allows them to forge a path forward together.