She smiles. “I’m watching, sweetie. Don’t worry.”
Every moment the three of us spend together feels so natural. We’re our own little family unit.
“What are you thinking about?” Juliet asks.
“How great my life is.” I smile. “I love being with you guys. It feels so right in every way.”
“I’ve noticed it too,” she replies. “You fit with us like a piece we were missing and didn’t realize.”
“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” My chest squeezes with emotion.
“I thought it was when I said I loved you,” she throws back.
“Nope. You said you loved me, meaning past tense,” I explain.
“Tomato—tomahto,” she retorts.
“You say that, but don’t you want to hear how much you both mean to me? How I can’t believe how empty my life was before last week? How when I’m not with you both, I want to be?”
“Oh, Emmett, you mean just as much to us. When you’re not with us, Emmett asks for you.”
“You didn’t let me finish,” I say, locking our gazes. “How I can’t stop thinking about you.”
“Really?” she questions, hope lighting her sea-colored eyes.
“Yes.”
“Hey, push me, please,” Emmett yells, showering us with a dose of reality, and we laugh.
“Emmett, sweetie, come here.” Juliet pats the couch cushion between us. “We need to talk to you about something important.” He scrambles over and I place him on the couch and give Juliet a nod of encouragement. “You know how I’ve always told you your daddy loves you very much and someday you’d get to meet him?”
Emmett nods. “You said he was away at school.”
“He was, but now he’s home.”
“Can I meet him?” Emmett cuts in.
I step in. “You already have. I’m your daddy, Emmett, and I’m so happy you’re my son.”
Emmett’s eyes open wider as the meaning of my words sinks in. “You’re my daddy?”
I grin and ruffle his hair. “I am.”
He turns to Juliet. “He’s my daddy?”
She smiles. “He is. I promise.” He squeals and jumps in my lap, throwing his arms around my neck. “Daddy,” he whispers, tightening his arms around my neck. “I’m glad you’re my Daddy.”
“I am too, son. I am too.”
Emmett remains in my arms and falls asleep against my chest. “Stay here. I’ll put him to bed and be right back.” Rising, I carry him to his room and tuck him into bed. Pausing at his bedside, I study every feature on his face and marvel for the millionth time that Juliet and I made him. How did we create someone so curious and precious? If I didn’t believe in miracles before, I do now.
When I return to the living room, I find Juliet pouring wine into two glasses. Sinking down next to her, I take the offered drink from her. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”
“No. But I might be trying to get me drunk,” she replies.
“Why do you need wine tonight? What’s going on?” Immediately, my mind goes to the worst possible scenario. I assume she’s about to tell me we made a mistake by sharing that I’m Emmett’s father.
“It’s been a crazy week or so, and I felt like some wine.”
“That’s all?” I question.
“No. There’s more, but I’m not sure I’m ready.”
“Ready for what?” I ask.
“To tell you I love you,” she blurts out.
“Why aren’t you ready?” I question.
“I’m scared you’ll change your mind about being with us so much. Or decide you can’t handle being a father so young.”
“Juliet, that’s pretty insulting to me and you. Basically, you’re saying I’m too immature to know what I want.”
“That’s not how I intended it to sound.”
Placing my untouched wine down, I sink my fingers into her long tresses and stare down into her eyes. “I loved you when I was eighteen and I love you at twenty-two. I’ll still love you at twenty-six and thirty too. Do you need me to continue?”
“Can you say it again, please?”
“I love you, Juliet.”
“I never thought I’d hear you say those words. I love you so much, Emmett.”
Leaning forward, I connect our lips. Starting out slow and tender, it soon shifts to hot and passionate. The long-awaited reunion was worth the time we spent apart. And we’ll never be parted again.
Calm the Storm by Kelsey Clayton
Chapter One
Emery
Walking through the front door of my best friend's house, Ashlyn grabs a drink, and I collapse onto one of the barstools at the island. She passes me a bottle of water with the special judgmental look she seems to reserve just for me.
“Em, you cannot wait until the last minute to pack,” she deadpans. “I told you it's a bad idea.”
I cock a single brow at her. “You mean if I go upstairs, your entire room will be packed already?”
Her lips quirk into a smirk that answers my question. Exactly. After graduating high school and spending the summer being legal adults, Ashlyn and I are finally going to college. We always said we were going to go to the same university and share a dorm, and that's exactly what we're doing. There's just one problem: we haven't packed.
Like at all.
And we leave in two days.
Granted, the university is only two hours away, so forgetting something isn't the complete end of the world, but we should probably have at least the basics for move-in. Otherwise, we're going to be sleeping on bare mattresses and living out of a suitcase.
“It's not my fault,” she argues. “Life has been...distracting.”
“Sleeping with your neighbor is not life, Ash.”
A deep, familiar laughter echoes through the room, and I whip my head around to see Ashlyn’s older brother Harland standing in the doorway. His arms are crossed over his chest, and he looks like something out of my wildest punk-rock fantasies. The band T-shirt he’s wearing suits the bad-ass rocker look he has going. I could spend all day just staring at him.
“Mike?” he barks. “You’ve seriously been banging that troll?”
Ashlyn narrows her eyes at me, and I mouth an apology as Harland comes closer. He puts his hand on the top of her head and messes up her hair, treating her the same way he always has and the same way she’s always hated—like she’s a child.
“Aw, sis,” he sighs dramatically. “I thought you had better taste than that.”
“Fuck off, H.” Ash elbows him in the side to get him away from her, but he dodges it.
Leaning his arms on the island across from me, his gaze locks with mine, and I nearly forget how to breathe. Harland Storm has been the object of my affection for as long as I can remember. He’s three years older than us, the singer in his band Sound the Sirens, and drop-dead fucking gorgeous. Seriously, I’ve spent years around him and still can’t seem to contain myself in his presence. Especially when he’s looking at me like that.