“There you are!” She envelops Emmett in a quick hug before turning to me. “How are my boys?”
“Good,” Emmett answers for both of us. “Something smells amazing.”
“Your favorite,” Caroline beams. “Pot roast with those little potatoes you like.”
We follow her to the dining room, where my dad is already seated at the table. He looks up, giving Emmett a warm smile and me the usual measured nod—the disparity I’ve grown so accustomed to. I barely notice it anymore.
“Right on time,” he says, checking his watch. “Punctuality is—”
“—a sign of respect,” I finish for him.
He lifts his eyebrows, surprised by my completing his catchphrase or by the lack of sarcasm in my tone. Either way, he nods in approval.
I slide into my usual chair, aware of Emmett settling into his spot beside me. We do this every week, but tonight feels different. Special and scary, because of what we’re about to do.
Our knees brush under the table, and I have to concentrate not to react. One month of being able to touch him in the privacy of the guest house has made public restraint torture.
Caroline brings the last dishes to the table, and we fall into the ritual of passing food around. I heap mashed potatoes onto my plate, my stomach twisting itself into such tight knots I doubt I’ll be able to eat a bite.
“How are classes going?” Dad directs the question at Emmett first.
“Really well,” Emmett answers. “Professor Martinez asked if I’d be interested in a teaching assistant position next semester.”
“That’s wonderful!” Caroline exclaims, pride radiating from her face.
“And you, Kaden?” Dad turns to me, expectation in his gaze. “How’s the artwork coming along?”
I blink, surprised by the genuine interest in his tone. “Um, good, actually. Really good. My professor’s submitting some of my pieces to that student showcase downtown.”
“The one at the Harrington Gallery?” Caroline asks. When I nod, she beams. “That’s prestigious! Why didn’t you tell us?”
I shrug, pushing a chunk of meat around my plate. “Found out yesterday. Haven’t had a chance.”
Dad clears his throat. “Well, that’s excellent news. Perhaps we could all attend the opening.”
“All of us?” I repeat, unable to keep the surprise from my voice.
“Of course,” he says, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world for him to want to see my art. “Family supports family.”
Family. The word hangs in the air, charged with new meaning. I catch Emmett’s eye, a silent conversation passing between us. Is this the moment? Not yet, his slight head shake tells me.
I push food into my mouth, tasting nothing. Caroline chatters about her latest client, something about impossible demands for a living room renovation. Dad nods at appropriate intervals, offering sensible suggestions about budgets and timelines.
Under the table, Emmett’s foot hooks around my ankle. I focus on the pressure, the warmth of him beside me, as I mechanically cut another piece of pot roast.
“You’re quiet tonight, Kade,” Caroline observes, concern etching fine lines near her eyes. “Are you feeling alright?”
“Just tired,” I lie. “End of semester stuff.”
She nods. “You’ve been working so hard. Both of you have. I barely see you two anymore, even on weekends.”
If she only knew why we’ve been holed up in the guest house. The memory of Emmett stretched out on my bed this morning, nothing but a sheet covering him as sunlight played across his bare shoulders, flashes through my mind.
“We’ve been studying,” Emmett offers smoothly. “Finals coming up.”
“Well, I’m proud of both of you,” Caroline says. “And I have to say, it’s so nice seeing you two getting along better.”
Dad grunts in agreement. “No shouting matches for weeks now. House has been positively peaceful.”
