“Do you hope to be a mom one day?”
A dart of longing flared in her heart. “Yes.” She dropped her gaze back to the rug.
“You won’t be like your mom,” he said plainly.
Sloane blinked, barely seeing the fibers of the rug she stared at. “You are right. I will not be the same sort of mother.”
“I’m glad you felt close to your dad, at least,” he said after a thoughtful pause. “And that he was more involved. It’s awful that you lost him so early.”
She nodded. “I really wanted to impress him, you know? He was so enamored with Gabe. I knew he was crazy about me too, but Gabe had so many accomplishments that stood out. Made his father heart proud. I was waiting for my time to shine, and it never came.”
Emmitt cleared his throat. “I’m a big believer in heaven,” he said.
Sloane lifted her gaze to meet his. “Oh?”
He nodded. “There’s been so much I wanted to say to my parents since they died. For a while it just built up, like a big, crushing dam.” His gaze drifted to the ceiling, as if his tale was written someplace beyond the sky.
“One day, it got particularly bad. The weight, pressure, sorrow. It felt like I’d suffocate if I didn’t get out from under it somehow. And that’s when I heard it.” He shot her a look of caution. “Don’t think I’m crazy,” he said, setting his gaze back on the ceiling. “But I heard my parents say two words—tell us.It kind of shocked me at first. I was like, tell youwhat? But that’s when it hit me. They wanted me to tell them everything that was building up inside. Everything we’d been through since they died. I wanted my family to be closer; even when my parents were living, I knew we weren’t how wecouldbe.”
A deep sigh slipped through his lips, and to her surprise, a breathy laugh slipped out as well. “You should have heard me that night. I sat down and I poured it all out. Even after I got into bed, was tucked beneath the covers in the dark, I talked to them some more. I told them everything that came to mind. Spilled all the junk that had built up over the years. And you know what happened?”
His gaze moved back to hers, his eyes bright and amused, as if he had a secret.
Sloane leaned in, curious. “What?”
“It worked. It helped. I don’t think it was just psychological either. It didn’t feel like I was just talking to myself. It felt like I was talking to them. It still does, when I have something to say.”
The feeling she’d had the night before, that warm burst of peace and hope, was blooming big and deep in her chest once more. “That’s beautiful,” she said, her voice raspy with emotion. “I may try that with my dad one day,” she said.
Emmitt reached out, cupped the back of her hand where it rested in her lap, and gave it a squeeze. “I think you should. You’ll probably discover that he was as proud of you as he ever was of your brother, Gabe.” He sighed then, pulled back his hand, and tucked it beneath his head with the other.
“It’s funny, the whole parenting gig. My folks were always complimenting Memphis more than they were Maverick. It drove Maverick nuts, and he always felt like they liked him more. That wasn’t true, of course. The twins, being compared as twins are, got a lot of attention, but it was mainly centered on Maverick. He was bolder and louder than Memphis, which put him center stage most of the time. Meanwhile, Memphis was caught in the shadows. My parents were simply trying to counter things out.”
Something about Emmitt’s experience rang true. She could see just what he meant in the example he gave, but Sloane sensed it might apply to her experience as well.
“Thank you,” she said. “That gives me a new perspective.”
She’d revisit the topic once she was alone, but already, Sloane sensed that a new layer of healing awaited her. All from Emmitt’s story and how he made it through his own feelings of unresolved grief.
It was one of those moments that stood out in life. The kind you don’t soon—or possibly ever—forget. She knew that whatever happened with Emmitt Duran from here on out, his words would hold a sacred place in her heart.
A recollection came to her in the quiet pause. “You know, my dad was big on, how you say,accountability. He had a saying:Never report a problem until you have come up with some solutions.That applied from everything to bad grades or test scores to sibling rivalry. Seems that when you are focused on solutions instead of the issue itself, the problem already starts to shrink.”
“Wow,” Emmitt said, his voice thoughtful. “That’s insightful.”
She allowed herself to sit on that piece of advice. How would she apply it here? She did have a problem after all, potentially. She liked Emmitt, wanted to see where things could go between them, but she was there under false pretenses. Could he ever forgive her if that came to light?
“Hey, Sloane?” Emmitt’s voice was no more than a whisper.
“Yes?” she said, pinning her eyes back on him.
“I like spending time with you.”
Sloane recognized those words in a blink. Their conversation at the steakhouse—his three-steps-from-the-altar theory.Thiswas one of those steps. The first one.
Explosions went off in her chest. Elation, attraction, and so much hope that she wanted to squeal. Sloane bit her lip as a smile formed there and dared herself to return the sentiment. “I like spending time with you too, Emmitt.”
A triumphant grin broke over his handsome face, and soon he was nudging in closer. He stayed on the floor, but freed his closest hand, brought it to rest face up on her lap. That was right—this step was coupled with holding hands. Yet Emmitt wasn’t forcing it. Instead, he was asking her, with the gesture alone, if she felt the same.
