I gathered the kids, shot an apologetic look to Ethan, and hurried them out of the hotel. Will was surprisingly the most vocal about not wanting to leave, considering he didn’t have his Switch.
“You’re such a brat sometimes, you know that?” he told Emma, who promptly burst into tears.
By the time we got back to the brownstone, she was a whining, crying wreck. Sadie was quiet, clutching her stuffed reindeer to her chest, and Will’s sulking deepened the longer it all went on.
“Emma, I want to talk to you,” I said once we’d all morphed back into comfortable clothes.
“I don’t want to talk.” She stomped right by me and into the living room to turn on the TV.
I followed, Sadie trailing like a shadow, but thankfully she was better at biting her tongue than her brother. Everything anyone said seemed to make it worse, and I was better at containing a tantrum without outside influence.
“I said no TV.” I clicked the TV off and stowed the remote in the back pocket of my jeans.
Emma didn’t argue, just curled up on the couch with her knees to her chest, face blotchy from crying. For all her bossy confidence and appetite for drama, she was still just a little girl trying to make sense of big feelings she didn’t have words for yet.
I knelt beside the couch. “We need to talk about your behavior at the luncheon.”
She shook her head, hiding her face in her arms.
Behind me, Will appeared, hands shoved in his pockets. I foresaw yet another comment that sent her spiraling all over again, and held up a hand to stop him.
“Not now, Will.”
“She’s hungry,” he said. And he might have looked a little sorry for making things worse before.
“I am not,” Emma said, voice muffled.
Will gave me a look of part long-suffering, part protectiveness that older siblings master early in their lives. “When she gets like this, it’s usually food. Or sugar. Mostly sugar.”
I deflated with a relieved sigh. “Okay. Sugar we can do.”
“Want me to get the ice cream?” he offered.
“Yeah,” I said. “That’s a great idea.”
He disappeared into the kitchen. A moment later, I heard the freezer door open, then the sound of bowls clinking.
I stayed where I was, waiting. Emma peeked out from behind her arms just as Will returned, holding three bowls with wobbly scoops of chocolate-chip ice cream.
“Mom says when all else fails, bribery works,” he said, setting a bowl down in front of his sister.
Emma’s lip twitched. She tried to hide it, but when Sadie let out a happy “Yay, ice cream dinner!” and climbed onto the couch beside her, the tension cracked. She picked up her spoon, and just like that, the storm began to pass.
We sat together, the four of us, eating ice cream while the late afternoon light slanted across the living room. Outside, the sky had turned that wintery shade of blue-gray that made the city look like it was dusted in frost.
When everyone’s bowls were empty, I leaned into the couch and said, “You know, I think that’s the most effective peace treaty I’ve ever witnessed.”
Emma glanced at me, cautious but calmer now. “I didn’t mean to make everyone mad.”
“You didn’t make anyone mad,” I said softly. “It was just… a surprise, that’s all. You felt something, and it came out too quickly. Happens to all of us.”
She frowned at her hands. “People always say that, but it’s different for me. Grown-ups get mad and it’s fine. When I do it, everyone stares and makes me feel bad.”
That one landed somewhere deep.
I brushed a strand of hair from her face. “You’re right. Sometimes adults forget what it’s like to feel big feelings and not know where to put them.”
Emma didn’t look convinced. “At the lunch, everyone was talking and laughing and… I was just there. Nobody noticed me or talked to me.”
