George pulled his arm out from under Johnny’s pillow, slowly, slowly, slowly. Johnny stirred in his sleep, but his eyes stayed shut. In the doorway, Emma stood stock still, watching. It had been a long day, and if all went well, when George lifted his weight from the bed they’d be free, maybe until morning.
He waited a minute and then slid back until he was off the bed, hovering at the same height in case Johnny opened his eyes and caught him trying to leave.
After another twenty seconds he tiptoed out to Emma, and they practically ran from the room.
“Nice ninja skills, George.”
“Thanks.” He followed her to the kitchen where she slid out a package of Oreos from a hiding spot in an upper cupboard. He’d discovered she had lots of those all over the house.
“Hitting the hard stuff, huh?”
She opened the fridge and got out the milk. “After a day like today, I think three perfect Oreos dipped in milk is exactly what I need.”
He helped himself to a few and took a bite. “You did amazing today. I was impressed.”
She started to smile at his words, but then let out a long sigh. “Exceeded your expectations, did I?” The words sounded a little bitter.
George took the cup of milk she offered him and didn’t dare say anything else. This sounded like the beginnings of an argument where he’d end up sleeping on the couch. Oh, the irony.
Emma waved a cookie at him. “I’m sorry. You were trying to be nice, and I did that thing girls do.” She slid the two halves of her cookie apart and dipped the half missing the cream in her milk. “Where we take a compliment as an opportunity to be insecure about ourselves.”
“No, you’re right. I lecture too much.” His kids, if he ever had any, would hate it.
“In my case, I need it.” Emma rubbed her forehead and then checked her fingers. “Did I just rub Oreo crumbs on myself?”
George took a step toward her to check. He didn’t see anything, but he rubbed his thumbs across to her temples anyway. Tonight felt like the last hurrah before he backed off for good and let Emma be the confident, amazing person she was, without his interference. She needed his friendship, not the brooding, jealous guy he’d been lately.
Her eyes met his and softened. “Thank you for fishing diaper beads out of a toilet, and climbing up on a ladder to rescue Johnny’s teddy bear from the roof. Oh, and letting Emmy put makeup on you with her Minnie Mouse fashion kit.”
George examined his fingernails. “Thank you for not taking any pictures of that and lending me the nail polish remover. I’m not a fan of glitter on my nails.”
“Poor Emmy was a little scared by Granddad’s vehement no. You made her day when you said she could give you a makeover instead.” Emma moved away with the Oreo package and put it back in its hiding spot. “We should get sleep while we can.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” Though he would have been happier to stay up with her, he put the milk carton away and swept up any incriminating cookie crumbs with his hand.
They stared at each other, neither making a move to leave, and Emma smiled. “Maybe one episode ofCooking with Strangers?”
George bit back a grin. “I’ll meet you in the den in a minute. I’m gonna change into flannel pants and brush my teeth first.”
***
George made it sound like a sleepover. The butterflies in Emma’s stomach kicked up at the thought. No. She couldn’t think that way. He was sleeping in the den, and he tended to doze off while watching TV. It made sense for him to get ready for bed. That was all.
Emma hurried down the hall to her room and changed into her softest pajamas before brushing her teeth and brushing out her hair. A strange part of her felt disloyal to Harriet, though it didn’t make any sense. She really had created some conflicts of interest with her matchmaking, hadn’t she? It wasn’t Emma’s job to find Harriet love, and it wasn’t her duty to keep George at arms-length, though she probably should. Every time they got close to each other, everything got confusing and ended up threatening their friendship.
It would help if she knew how George felt, but if he did have feelings for Harriet, Emma doubted he’d tell her. She’d have to watch for clues.
Dragging her favorite blanket off her bed, she jogged to the den and plopped down on one end of the couch.
“You rearranged the furniture in here.” He looked down at the blanket piled between them and then over to the loveseat now in the corner, the one they used to cuddle on.
“You don’t like it?” She could not admit the real reason she’d done it, though there was little chance she’d ever be sandwiched between George and Elton again.
“It’s great. It took me by surprise, is all.” He kicked out his footrest and leaned the seat back, pulling his own blanket over himself.
She reluctantly did the same on her side, keeping the three-foot distance between them. She hated every inch of it, but this was what he’d asked for.
He had the remote and pointed it at the TV, but he stopped before hitting play and set it on his lap. “Harriet brought me lunch the other day.”
