Crunching, smacking, slurping . . .breathing.
Anger chills my spine as I watch him—disgust definitely plastered across my face.
It has been a long time since I was so easily irritated, even dealing with the student drama these last few months didn’t hold a candle to the internal rage that was filling my stomach as I watched my ex-finacé slither around my sister’s kitchen like he had the right. A snake in human form.
Why is he here?
“Morning, everyone!” Steven walks in the kitchen, carrying one of the twins.
“What’s up, little man?” Liam high-fives my nephew and jostles his hair as he leaves the kitchen with a plate piled high with food.
Steven joins us at the table after the little terror wiggles out of his arms and chases after Liam. Hopefully to kick him in the shin just for fun. Steven picks food off of Emma’s plate, oblivious to the daggers we are both staring at him.
“What’s on the agenda for today?” he asks Steven, his mouth full of bagel.
“Are you freaking serious right now?” Emma whisper shrieks at him. “What is he doing here?”
“He called me from the airport,” he whispers—an uncomfortable guilt in his tone. “He just came for the weekend, said he wanted bro time.” I roll my eyes and Emma huffs, crossing her arms at Steven. “What was I supposed to do? He already booked a flight.” He pauses, looking at me with sad eyes. “I swear I didn’t invite him. But I can’t just turn him away either, El.”
Crossing my arms, fighting the urge to let his puppy dog eyes dissolve my anger, I peek around the corner to the living room as I see my nephews throwing toys and cheerios at Liam, interrupting his attempt at a peaceful meal. I guess the gremlins are useful for something.
“When is he leaving?” Emma says through her teeth.
“Tomorrow morning, first thing—”
“He’s here for another day?” I gape at him. The internal battle to not scream and break things slowly being lost.
“I’m sorry.” Steven sounds pitiful, like he really means his apology. “I’m taking him fishing for most of the day though!”
We all sit there in silence, pondering if that’s enough. What if this happens again? What if Liam thinks he can just wedge himself back into our family solely because he’s friends with Steven? This can’t happen, I refuse to let it.
“Yo, Stevie boy, you ready?” Liam calls from near the front door, nephews pelting him with Nerf bullets. I wish, in this moment, they truly were covered in metal casing . . . just a light layer, ya know . . . for forceful emphasis . . .
“Coming!” Steven chugs the rest of Emma’s coffee, kissing her on the forehead as she maintains her irritated composure. “I really am sorry, he’s gone tomorrow,” he whispers to me, his sincere smile doing a decent job at fizzling some of my anger.
They head out the door, grabbing their pathetic fishing hats and cooler on the way.
“Love you!” Steven says to all of us.
“See y’all at dinner!” Liam says as he shutting the door as bullets fly at his head.
“Dinner?” I ask Emma, angry again.
Emma groans as she leaves the table and begins cleaning the kitchen erratically. Her irritation quickly changes into anxiety as she scrubs the counter. She scrubs so hard her arm might fall off, while the other hand shakes and twitches at her waist.
“How could he—why—ugh—” Her attempt at speaking is cut off with her heaving breaths and quivering chest. She grips the side of the counter, trying to steady herself.
I watch and wait, giving her a chance to process through her anxiety, at her constant request tolet her figure it out.She’s unsuccessful as angry sobs pour out of her, breathing uneven and erratic.
Swooping to her side, I grab both of her hands. “Em, look at me. Let’s focus.” Exaggerating deep breaths for her, long inhale and long exhale. “Let’s find our five things, okay?”
Shaky, rapid breaths are coming out of her, one on top of the other. I squeeze her hands tighter as I deep breathe audibly. “What do you see?”
“A—Cheerio—by my left foot,” she whispers in between exhales, hands shaking in mine.
I look down and see the Cheerio. “Good. What do you hear?”
Her breathing is still fast as she lifts her head, closing her eyes to focus. “The boys—laughing.” She smiles as her hands become relaxed at the thought.
