I didn’t realize how much I had been enjoying Emily’s company until the weight of her statement crashed into me. A few weeks ago, I would have been angry at her for obviously looking down on us, but tonight, after watching her with Olivia, after seeing how she’s made people I love happy, I offer her a chance. “How come?”
Emily worries her bottom lip and her finger taps against her arm. She’s nervous about my reaction and given how I’ve treated her, she has good reason to be concerned. I walk across the kitchen and then lift myself until I’m sitting on the counter beside her.
The scent of the beach hits me as I nudge her with my knee. “I promise I won’t tear into for your answer. No judgment.”
“Be careful, Oz. You’re acting like we’re friends or something and that will totally ruin the whole ‘the only reason we’re in the same room is because we’re being forced to by tragic circumstances’ thing.”
I chuckle and I get a ghost of that beautiful smile she showed before. “Isn’t this what people do? Ask random questions to find out if they want to be friends?”
“Then try favorite color, do you have a pet, what’s your favorite food.”
Fine. “Give me the answers to all that.”
She rolls her eyes. “Blue, a goldfish and meatballs.”
Say what? “Meatballs? Who the hell likes meatballs as their favorite food?”
“Wow, that sounded judgey.” But there’s a tease in her voice.
“You got me. I judged, but meatballs?”
“Spaghetti is boring without them, plus they make a great sandwich. You are totally underestimating the power of a meatball.”
I am and I’m smiling and she’s smiling and I should leave well enough alone, but it’s bothering me that she didn’t answer about why she hasn’t told anyone about Eli. “Why haven’t you told anyone?”
It’s like I blew out a flickering flame and I somewhat hate myself for it.
Emily readjusts her footing, sucks in a deep breath and says, “I don’t like reminding my father I’m adopted.”
Out of all the answers Emily could have given, that isn’t the one I expected. I had prepared myself for her to be ashamed, but when I search her face, I see she’s telling me the honest-to-God truth. “Why?”
Emily looks over at the pictures taped to the refrigerator. Most of them are group photos and there isn’t a snapshot that doesn’t show our crazy side. My favorite is of me, Oz, Chevy, Razor and Violet from last year, covered in mud after we created a homemade waterslide on a steep hill on the other side of Cyrus’s property. You can’t tell much about us beyond our open eyes and smiles.
“I may not understand a lot about all of this craziness, but I understand that Olivia loves you like you’re related to her. Like she never had a choice in loving you, but my dad did. He could have taken one look at me and decided he wanted nothing to do with a woman who had a child. He had a choice and there isn’t a day I don’t thank God that he chose not only Mom, but me.”
My gut twists for her. “I’ve seen your dad around you. The man is nuts about you.”
“He is, but wouldn’t it hurt him if I was curious about any of you? If I talked about Eli with all my friends?”
Emily turns her head so she can meet my eyes and there’s a striking honesty that almost brings me to my knees. Olivia didn’t have to love me. Neither did Cyrus or Eli or anyone else in the club, but they do. Somewhere deep down inside, I understand what she’s saying because what does it say about me if I do think about something more than the security company? But I shut that thought down. This club, this family...it’s all I want.
Hating that I took her to a place that bothers her, I hop off the counter and draw Emily into a hug. She keeps her arms wrapped tight around herself. She doesn’t fall into me, but she doesn’t pull away.
“Thank you for not judging me,” she whispers.
I lower my head and whisper back, “Thank you for being here...for spending time with Olivia.” With me.
“Does this mean we’re friends?” she asks.
I chuckle and at the same time she giggles. “How about it means whatever it needs to mean.”
“All right. I can live with that.”
Emily
I OPEN THE door to my room and pause when pipes squeal, then water hits the base of the shower. I stepped out a few minutes ago and like every morning when Eli’s gone, Oz gets in after me. There’s something intimate in sharing a shower. I was naked in there. Now he’s naked in there. Sweet baby Jesus, Oz naked.
With a shake of my head, I follow the scent of freshly brewed coffee into the kitchen and twist my hair off the back of my neck, secure it in a messy bun then sweep my bangs away from my forehead. I’m barely out of the shower and sweat’s already dotting my brow.
I crack the window over the sink. The loud clicking of the cicadas drifts in. Ugh. Nine in the morning and they’re already making that racket. That means today is going to be blistering.