Then I see her.
“We’ll meet you there,” Kate calls, but I don’t hear anything else. My attention is entirely on Emma fluffing her hair and swiping on Chapstick. Draped in black, the linen dress I bought hugs her like it was made for her. Her chestnut hair falls in a straightened bob at her shoulders, loose instead of pinned back, brushing her face in the places she normally avoids. Something about hair tickling her face is too overstimulating. I’ve been sworn to never let her get bangs again because of this. But lately, she’s let it fall. Her dress is held up by thin straps, revealing more skin than she’d usually let show.
“I’m a mom. I don’t need to show that much skin,” she would say. But last week when I saw this dress, I knew she needed it. She needed to see herself the way I see her. A precious gem that needs to be shown to the world. And here she is, wearing it without hesitation. She looks amazing, brave, more like herself.
I bought a jacket too, though, just in case.
“What?” she asks, catching me staring.
“You’re stunning,” I tell her, unable to tear my eyes away.
I kneel to buckle the straps of her heels, brushing her calves, the warmth of her skin sparking heat straight through me. Her knees buckle slightly when I reach her thighs, but I force myself to stand.
“Are you sure we have to go?” I grumble, tugging her close.
“We’ll regret it if we don’t,” she whispers, hands threading through my hair. “But we can hurry back.”
“Promise?” I ask, tipping her chin up.
She kisses me, slow and certain, and I feel my world narrow to just us. She doesn’t stop kissing me all the way to the car. Her lips linger against the skin of my hand, my arm, even my neck while I’m driving.
“We’re going to crash,” I tell her, and she slowly retreats back to her seat, giving me the cutest little pout she can.
“Don’t do that to me,” I laugh, and she pouts harder. She’ll kiss me again anyway, so I change the subject to be safe. “Want to check in?”
The playfulness fades, and she shifts to face me, a serious expression curving her brows.
“Yes, let’s check in.” She reaches for my hand. “You go first.”
I twist my mouth, trying to find something new to say. We’ve checked in so much lately I realize there isn’t anything I haven’t shared with her. I lift her hand to my lips. “I don’t have anything.”
Instead of the incredulous look one would expect, her face glows, a cheeky smile splitting across it.
“What?” I ask.
“I don’t either,” she says eagerly.
“Really?” Now I’m the incredulous one. We’ve done good at sharing, yes, but we’re not perfect, and I know Emma will probably always be the person who holds back for everyone else’s sake. “Nothing at all?” I ask. “Because now is the time.”
“There’s nothing.” She beams at this, the truth that there’s nothing unsaid, nothing she’s harboring. Relief and joy radiate from her, the kind of weightless truth that can only come from being fully seen and heard. And I can confidently say I’ve been feeling it too.
“Good.” I kiss her knuckles, savoring the warmth.
We drive in blissful silence, pulling up to Wafflin’ shortly after the others. Glendale’s local diner, I finally remembered, stays open late on Fridays for the adults, but the thought of waffles I don’t have to share with the kids sounds like heaven.
The smell of syrup envelopes us as we slide into a booth with Ellie and Kate, Malcolm and Benny arguing over the jukebox in the corner. We order a stack of waffles to share, and an extra side of whipped cream as some kind of small rebellion against our adult responsibilities.
Before the food arrives, my phone rings. Liam.
“Go ahead,” Emma whispers in my ear, clocking the caller ID.
“I’ll be quick.” I kiss her on the forehead and rush outside to answer.
“Liam, what’s up? I told you—”
“Yeah, yeah I know,” he cuts me off. “Group date night, whatever. I was calling about your tests.”
“They’re already back?” I ask, stunned.
