After I grab Emily a drink, we sit in Adirondack chairs in Tom’s yard, near the firepit. My teenage nieces enter the backyard with Katie between them. My little girl wears a tiara and a homemade sash.
“Presenting Princess Katie,” they grandly announce to the crowd, and people clap, drawing attention to Katie she doesn’t care for. She ducks behind Madison, the older one, until she spots Emily. Katie darts out from behind her cousin and runs to the woman next to me. Emily immediately sits forward and opens her arms, drawing my child in for a hug. It warms my heart when it should concern me. My eyes lift to find my mother watching me and my sister-in-law Karyn staring at Katie in Emily’s arms.
“You look lovely, Katie bug,” Emily says, drawing my attention back to her and my daughter as Emily nudges Katie back a few inches. “Or should I say, Princess Katie, Her Royal Highness?” Emily twirls her hand between them and dips her head like she is bowing to royalty. Katie leans against Emily’s leg, and her lips curl into a hint of the smile that’s come more and more easily since Emily’s presence in our lives. In some ways, it still upsets me. I’ve worked hard for every smile I’ve received, which have been rare, yet Katie gives them so freely to this stranger.
This stranger who is beginning to mean a lot more to both of us.
The thought agitates me for some reason despite the incredible time with Emily last night. She shouldn’t mean more to either of us.
Katie wiggles free of Emily’s legs and runs away to rejoin the shenanigans of her older cousins, who drag her around like a plaything.
“She’s really into that fairy-tale shit,” I say, my voice heated as I turn on Emily.
“It’s not shit,” she defends. Her eyes twinkle in the firelight.
“Don’t tell me you believe in all that. Princes and fairy godmothers and such.” I scoff.
“There’s nothing wrong with believing in fairy tales,” she continues, affronted. “We all need to believe in a little magic in our life. A happily ever after doesn’t hurt.”
“Is that what you’re waiting for? For someday your prince will come and give you a happily ever after?” I’m teasing her, mocking the Sleeping Beauty song I’m familiar with, but there’s still an edge to my voice.
“I don’t need a prince to save me, but yes, I do believe in happily ever after. I just don’t think it comes as easily to some as it does to others.” She huffs as she looks off in the distance, following Katie’s movements as she runs across the darkening yard.
“And why hasn’t it happened to you?” I ask, thinking of Gabe and any other man who might have tried to snatch her up.
“Because I’ve been very career driven. I wanted things for myself before I gave myself to someone else.” Her head lowers, and her eyes focus on the flame in the firepit. “But then it came to a point when I was never picked. It was always the next woman someone settled on, not me. ‘It’s not you, Emily, it’s me.’” She deepens her voice to mock the words of other men. “It was always her, not me.” She sighs, and I stare at her. “I’ve never been picked. That’s why happily ever after hasn’t happened for me.”
She doesn’t look at me but takes a long drink of the wine I’d offered her earlier. I brought the bottle especially for her.
Why wouldn’t someone pick her? I’d pick her a million times over.
“It’s because you’re pushy,” I tease, hoping to break the tension. Instantly, I realize it was a poor choice of words.
“I never push anyone into relationships with me. In fact, I’m typically the first to walk away.” She sits straighter, speaking like it’s a badge of honor, but then realizes what she said. My wife left me. “Only that really doesn’t happen often.” She swallows like there’s something she isn’t saying, and I don’t ask. I don’t want to know her dating history.
“Never been in love then?” The words taste bitter as I ask. I don’t want to consider her loving someone who left her, but with all the love she seems to give, I can’t believe someone didn’t grab at it.
Are you willing to grab at that? my heart asks, and the immediate answer is no way. I’ll never fall in love again.
Then another thought occurs. Might be too late for that statement, pal.
My eyes trace the lines of her face. The sweetness of her cheeks. The rosy pink to her lips. The brilliance to her blue eyes. But it’s more than her beauty. She’s taming the Beast within me. I’m rough, and I know it. I’m protective and closed off because of Katie, but Emily has opened the door, just a bit, just enough that light has begun to seep in, and I’m curious when I should be cautious. I can’t fall in love with her.
“Can’t say it’s truly happened, no.” She’s back to staring at the firepit, and I hate the tension surrounding us. The night feels off, when all I wanted was to just relax with her, bring her into the fold of my family since she’s missing most of hers. She’s mentioned her sister, Grace, and Grace’s impending delivery. It must be hard to be away from her best friend. Tom is mine. Gavin Scott used to be. And I admit it was difficult to be away from those friendships for so long. Now I’m back near Tom, working with him every day.
Reaching for her hand, I lift it to my lips and press a lingering kiss to her knuckles. I don’t want to fight with her.
“So tell me something else about yourself, Emily Post of Chicago. What’s your favorite movie?” If I can’t have her heart, because I can’t give her mine, I can at least learn a little more about her. Playing twenty questions seems to be the way to do it.
+ + +
The night wears on, and I admit I can’t shake the funk from earlier. I think about Gabe and the fact he hit on her, and her mention of never being picked and not falling in love. I’m all twisted up over this woman, and I end up drinking too much. It’s a given I can’t drive home. I’ll likely crash at Tom’s since he has room, and Katie loves to spend the night here.
When Emily hints it’s time for her to leave, I walk her out to her car. I’m supposed to go to her place tomorrow and discuss the sink. I’ve found some options, but I’m starting to think a full kitchen renovation might suit the house better. I don’t like the possibility she might sell or even rent. If she can design the place the way she wants, she might stay.
Right, dude. Like she’ll stay because she loves a new kitchen sink.
It’s worth a shot, but I’m not really in the frame of mind to think such things as I walk her out to the street.
“Wow, it’s so dark here,” she marvels, looking up at the sky. “No streetlights to lead the way.”
“No bright lights for my big city girl,” I tease, tugging her to me, settling her between my spread legs as I lean back against her driver’s side door, blocking her entrance. I want to tug her into the back seat and fuck her six ways to Sunday, erasing any thoughts of Gabe and the assholes who didn’t love her and then restore the afterglow of last night. However, I have had too much to drink.
She leans against me, arms tucked between us, so her chest doesn’t fall against mine. It’s defensive, and I’d call her out on it if she wasn’t playing with the collar of my T-shirt, stroking her fingers along the neckline. It feels nice. I like when she touches me. She isn’t afraid to go for what she wants. I don’t need to be king of the bedroom, so I have no problem bowing to a queen.