He glanced at the TV. Almost asked if Emerson was a baseball fan too, but he knew he wasn’t. Emerson had never mentioned it, had only listed cooking shows when Luca asked him what he normally liked to watch.
Even if Emerson did care about America’s game, Luca preferred to keep it this way in his mind. That Emerson had put it on expressly for him. A Bat signal for Luca to come and find him.
The Giants, of course, were losing.
Luca returned his gaze to Emerson.
Emerson’s fingers, in particular. Long, lithe. Battered and strong. Carefully, meticulously sewing up a stuffed animal.
Luca loved baseball, he really did. But at that moment, he couldn’t imagine watching anything as captivating as this.
“Rough day today,” he finally said, voice coming out weirdly hoarse. “For Moomoo. And you.”
Emerson released a small laugh, eyes still focused on his task.
“It’s not the first time I’ve had to give Moomoo some stitches.” Luca hadn’t noticed any imperfections on the stuffy before, but watching Emerson work now, it made sense. His seams probably looked fucking flawless.
“The kind of funny thing,” Emerson continued after a beat, “is that I’m almost proud of her, whenever she gives poorMoomoo hell. We taught her to do it. She used to hituswhen she got mad. Or kick us. Or bite.”
Another almost affectionate laugh.
“She was so small and helpless for so long, you know? After she was born. I wasn’t prepared for…the violence.”
“Yeah. She was pretty fucking angry today. Did anything happen to bring it on? Like did she not sleep well or something?”
Emerson shook his head.
“Sometimes there are reasons, like she’s tired or hungry or overwhelmed. Sometimes there aren’t. She makes me think a lot about how my own brain works, sometimes. How it doesn’t always make sense. She just…expresses it out loud.”
“Yeah.”
“Anyway, we taught her to get out her anger on inanimate objects instead. Like Moomoo, instead of us.”
“Good call.”
“Yeah. She did good today.” Emerson paused the steady movements of fingers and string to pick up the stuffy and look him in the eyes. “Sorry, old pal.”
For several minutes, even after Emerson had resumed his sewing, Luca couldn’t say anything at all.
Eventually, he managed to ask, “How did it go today, with your guy and the old barn?”
Emerson sighed. For the first time since Luca had lain down, the atmosphere around Emerson turned heavy. Luca straightened out his knees a bit more. Stuffed his toes under Emerson’s bum. It made Emerson crack a small smile, even if he still only looked at Moomoo.
“Okay. Good, really. He can reinforce the main beams, says it should keep the structure sound for a good few years. Said while almost all the wood is obviously weathered, only a small amount appeared to be fully rotted. He’ll replace the boards that are easy to replace.”
“And he’ll be able to do all that before the wedding?”
Luca knew they were starting to cut it close. Like, less-than-two-weeks-away close. Today was September first. When Luca had woken up this morning and seen the date change on his phone, his own stomach had tumbled in anxiety.
Emerson nodded. “Yeah. He’ll be back next week.”
“That’s great.”
“Yeah.” Emerson completed a few more stitches, his brow more furrowed, as if he was contemplating saying more.
After another few minutes, he did.
“He’s done work for us before, so I know he’ll do a good job. But he charges what he’s worth, too. Gonna have to max out the last of my credit cards to get it done.”
