Atlas:
You’re welcome…
I can’t read too much into it. He knew that Noah was sick last night and was just being helpful by bringing my car back. That’s it. It doesn’t mean anything. The shriek of the tea kettle coming from the kitchen reminds me that I have things to tend to. Leaving my phone in the living room so I’m not tempted to text anyone, I head to make the tea for me and Noah. Hopefully, something in there works for him.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Atlas
Pulling up to Emma’s, I scan my messages. It’s Monday evening, and I haven’t heard from Cora since yesterday. I wanted to drive by her house, but I held myself back, barely. The need to be with her is intense. I’ve grown accustomed to seeing her at the shop, but now I want more. After hearing how sweetly she moans my name, I’ve become a fiend. I know she has her hands full, but I’m hopeful the bag of supplies I left was enough. Maybe I should grab more?
“Are you coming in or are you going to stare at that thing all night?” a voice shouts next to me.
Jumping out of my skin, I turn to see Emma standing at my car door.
“Fuck, Emma. Don’t do that.” I let out a breath and regret my choice of words when I see her face. “Sorry. You scared me.”
Pulling her in for a hug, I put my chin on top of her head, knowing that she hates it.
“Get off me, you oaf. Come on. I made dinner.” She gestures toward the house, and like the dutiful son I am, I follow.
Taking my coat off, I lay it over her old,worn couch. I’m fairly certain it’s been here since before we arrived. “Why don’t you upgrade your furniture? Let Kash and me take you for something,” I shout as I walk toward the kitchen.
“Nonsense,” she replies, grabbing plates. “There’s nothing wrong with my stuff. You boys have done enough for me.” Setting the table, she goes back to ignoring me.
“But, Emma?—”
“Butts are for sitting on, not talking about. Now grab something to drink and park it.”
Giving her a deadpan look, I drop it. Even though Emma is wrong, I’ll never tell her that. I value my life. There’s not ever going to be ‘giving enough’ when it comes to Emma. It’s not me being dramatic when I say I would likely be dead if it wasn’t for her. The day I came to stay with Emma was the day I got out of the hospital from having an arm and ribs broken from the foster family prior to her.
“So, what’s the occasion?” she asks, placing a plate on the table in front of me. I’m so glad none of the guys are here. Emma made pierogi with sausage, and I don’t have to share a damn bit of it.
Cutting into the first little pocket of goodness, I smile at her. “What? Can’t I visit you without a reason?”
“I don’t know. You tell me.”
Thinking of how best to tell her I met my future wife, I mull it over for a few pierogi. Not wanting to make her panic, I simply settle for, “I met someone.”
Emma’s eyes find mine, her fork pausing mid-bite. “You meet lots of people in your line of work.”
“Not like this.”
She eyes me and then nods. “So it’s not the girl at the shop that Kash says you pissed a circle around? That’s a shame. She sounds nice.”
“Kash better keep her name out of his mouth.”
“Is that so? He was very forthcoming about how pretty she is and how kind. Said everyone loves her there, and something about a nightout for you two recently.” Emma must see something on my face because she smirks and continues, “I guess there’s some truth to it then.”
“Kash talks a lot, like a gossiping teenage girl.”
“True, but your silence says more.” She smirks, standing from the table.
Sighing, I debate how much to tell her. I want Cora, but I need Emma to like her. “She has a kid. He was sick the other night and got dropped off when I took her home.”
I leave out the part where Matt was there because it makes me want to smash something. He seemed way too comfortable around my girl, and there’s the whole not knowing if he’s the father.
I’ll have to fix that.
