“We’ll see,” he replies.
Emma tumbles out of the back door of the small cabin, and I have to remind myself to breathe.
Nerves.
All nerves.
She’s the person I have to impress if I want to have a part in my—ourson’s life.
She’s also the accidental friend that I didn’t even know I needed when I passed out drunk on her porch in Fiji, thinking it was my own.
Today, she’s in a long multicolored sundress with bare feet. She has minimal makeup on. Just enough to make her big brown eyes pop and her lips turn that soft, sparkly pink.
Her cheeks aren’t as sharp as they were in Fiji, though her ears are still a little too big for her head, which is absolutely adorable.
She stumbles, and I realize she’s not tumbling out alone.
Two women—easily identifiable as her best friends, Delaney and Sabrina—follow too quickly on her heels.
Both women are pregnant. Both are also forces of nature in their own ways, according to the report Hayes’s security detail insisted I read before coming out here today.
“The cats wanted to come out,” Emma says. The nerves in her voice make me want to hug her, but I know I lost that privilege when I left Fiji without a goodbye.
“We had to corral Fred and Panini, and then Widget tried to prove he could fly,” Laney adds.
Sabrina doesn’t say anything.
Hayes’s security team told me not to say anything in front of her.
They also told me to read thefullreport oneveryonein Emma’s life, and I’m glad I did, since there are still at least four other people here.
Aside from Bash.
Who isnotback out from his diaper change.
“Anyway, welcome.” Emma’s twisting her fingers in her dress and talking fast. Definitely nervous. “Are you thirsty? Zen brought Snaggletooth Creek-brewed kombucha. I didn’t think I’d ever like kombucha, but theirs is the best.”
“I drank it all,” one of the Sullivan triplets lingering at the edge of the patio says. His shirt suggests he’s Lucky, but the haircut says he’s Decker. “Sorry, Em.”
“You did not,” his brother says. Haircut says Lucky. Shirt style, though, implies Jack.
I think I’m being tested. Or else the report was wrong.
Most likely, I’m being tested.
I’d be amused if my heart wasn’t about to pound out of my chest.
Seeing Bash through the screen door on his way to having an honorary uncle change his diaper has me realizing what’s at stake here.
I have to fit in to this family that Emma’s built for herself if I want to have any role in my son’s life.
If I want to have any role inherlife.
“We have water and beer and fruit juice too.” Emma’s wiping her hands on her sun dress now, swaying back and forth.
She’s flustered.
And I know I’m not the only one who’s noticing.
