His eyebrows rise almost to his hairline, but he doesn’t speak again.
“I think I made a mistake, moving into that apartment.”
“How?”
I pull the towel from his shoulder and turn around to face the drainer. “Everything’s falling apart. From the cupboards to theflooring. And the other day, when I tried to run a bath for Blake, the hot water failed.”
When Emmett’s palm wraps around my waist, a couple of his fingers creep beneath the flimsy material of my cami. Aside from him taking my hand, it’s the first real skin-to-skin contact we’ve shared, and I brace a palm on the counter in front of me, trying to steady myself.
Wow.
“Billie, look at me.”
I shake my head, tears welling up in my eyes. I’m determined not to let anyone see how overwhelmed I am. “Just give me a second, okay?”
With the way he’s holding me like this, we both know we’re taking a risk on being seen.
“Not good enough, I’m afraid. Look at me.” His voice is harder, a demand sitting behind his firm tone.
“I’ve complicated your life enough,” I say, scrunching the towel in my left hand. I want to throw it at the goddamn wall in frustration.
Emmett grips the other side of my waist, slowly turning me to face him.
God, Jesus, he looks like a freaking dream. Waves of brown hair falling over his forehead, stopping just shy of the black frames on his glasses.
His eyes drop to my mouth, and he closes them, squeezing them shut like he’s in pain. “You made exactly the right call when you moved into that apartment. Sure, it needs some work, but it’s yours. A home for you and Blake and a place you can decorate however you want. That day you moved in, I saw it in your eyes, in the way you danced around the kitchen with your baby girl. That was the start of something new for you.”
“How long were you watching me for?”
He just grins down at me, hands still planted on my waist. I swear I feel his thumbs circle my skin, but I don’t look down to double-check.
“Long enough to establish that you are, in fact, the world’s worst dancer.”
I balk, the hand gripping the towel now pressed against his chest. “Take that back.”
He shakes his head, and I swear when he dips it lower, he considers pressing his forehead to mine. “No, never. Not until you admit that you’re a kick-ass mom who just bossed life and got her own place.”
I narrow my eyes playfully. “I’m a kick-ass mom who just bossed life and got my own place … even if I’m still a terrible dancer.”
His face breaks into a panty-melting smile. “Good girl.”
I can’t help it; the words tumble from my lips like a waterfall. “Maybe, one day, you can take me dancing and show me how it’s done.”
I brace for him to pull away or at least drop his hands from my hips. He does neither, holding me in place against the counter, chest rising and falling more rapidly than before.
When he parts his lips to speak, I draw a deep breath into my lungs.
“Ha-ha! Yes. Let me just check if Billie is making the coffee.”
The sound of Mom approaching rips our bodies apart, Emmett backing several steps away. He grabs another towel from the side and begins wiping down an already-clean countertop.
Mom appears in the doorway with Maria following up behind her with the rest of the dishes I forgot to collect.
She pauses when her gaze lands on Emmett, clearing his throat as they both step into the kitchen.
“Billie and I were just figuring out how to use your new coffee machine, Freya.”
It’s a poor alibi, and he knows it.
