The silence festers, and I can picture her biting her lip in deep concentration. “I found a buyer for the armoire I just finished upcycling, but they don’t have a way to pick it up. I was hoping my truck would be ready so I could deliver it. I really need this sale.”
“Oh,” is all I can think to say, but then my hero complex kicks in and we’re off to the races. “I can deliver it.”
There’s another pause on her end, but I can hear her breathing, so I know she’s there.
“No, you don’t have to do that. I can figure something else out,” Emery says, tripping over her words. She is cute when she’s nervous.
“No, I can do it. Plus, that’s what a boyfriend would do, right?” I ask, trying to convince her through our shared lie.
I wait for her reply, fully expecting her to fight me more. Even when we were kids, she’d give me a hard time about helping her with things. I loved how independent she was, but I loved it even more when she let me fill whatever hole was in her life at the time. I just liked being needed, but I really liked being needed byher.
“Are you sure?” she asks, surprising me with a very non-Emery response. “I don’t want to mess with your day.”
“Yes, I’m sure,” I murmur, eyeing Milo in all of his chocolate-stained glory, “and thankfully I have my helper with me, so it should go extra smooth.”
“Helper?” Emery asks, intrigue laced in her voice.
“He’s young, but he has a great work ethic, and he’ll do the job for basically free.”
“You’re not talking about yourself, right? Talking in third person is weird even for you, Knox,” she replies, and I can feel the heat of her mouth twisting inside my mind.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask with the dumbest grin on my face. Even Milo looks at me with narrowed eyes that say, ‘play it cool’.
“I think you know what it means,” she teases, making my heart flutter. I’m starting to think banter is my love language. If that’s even a thing.
“Mhmm,” I hum. “On a serious note, is it okay if I bring my nephew? I’m on uncle duty tonight.”
“Sure,” she responds without a second thought. I was sure she’d push back on the kid thing—then again, I have no clue where she stands with kids. Not that it matters, of course. It’s not like I can already picture our nameless daughters who give their dad just as hard a time as their mother.
Fuck. Maybe I should tell Emery to start being mean to me again.
“Should I prepare myself for a mini version of you?” she asks.
“You better believe it, Bambi,” I reply, glowing with pride at the small human in a puddle of ice cream. “We just have to go pick up my truck and we’ll be over. Shouldn’t be longer than thirty minutes.”
Low rustling fills the speakers. “Wait until I get there to move anything,” I add, knowing her stubborn ass already has the large piece of furniture halfway out the door.
She replies with a half-hearted grumble. “Fine. I’ll see you when you get here,” she says, hanging up a second later without so much as a goodbye. I shake my head and place the phone back in my pocket.
“You up for an adventure, little dude?” I ask Milo.
He instantly perks up as excitement hums inside his tiny body. “Yes!” he shouts, holding up two very sticky hands.
“But first, let’s get you cleaned up. You know the rules.”
Milo doesn’t say anything. He just holds up his hands, ready to be whisked away.
“Exactly.” I nod, scooping him up and carrying him toward the restroom. He giggles the entire way, kicking his legs like I’m hauling him off to jail.
Once Milo is squeaky clean everywhere, down to the dirt underneath his fingernails, we head for the Mustang. He’s still buzzing like we’re on our way to rob his favorite toy store and not play delivery boys for the evening.
In his defense, I’m buzzing too. I just wish I knew how to make it stop.
CHAPTER 11
EMERY
“You’re coming next weekend?” I ask, dodging random junk lying around my messy backroom/work area. I almost trip over a can of stain I left lying on the floor earlier.
