Page 121 of The Emma Special

Yesterday, Emma had prepped a batch of cinnamon rolls. They would have been a fun treat to send out with the boys fishing. She slid them in the oven and hopped in the shower. At least the house would smell nice when James got home.

If he came back…

Stop it! Of course he would come back. Where else would he go? This was his house. Maybe she shouldn’t be here when he got back. They’d never had a fight before. Was this even a fight?

Emma stood with the warm water dripping down her face. The ache in her heart hurt like someone had stabbed her. Had she become so reliant on his good favor to keep her spirits up?

After blow-drying her hair and taking time on her makeup, she stood in the kitchen, the pan of sweet rolls on the counter, not knowing what to do with herself. What did she normally do? Why did everything feel so wrong this morning?

PT exercises. That’s right. She had time to do her stretches before heading to the park to meet Lottie.

The front door opened during her second set of exercises. She paused, back against the wall, holding the invisible chair pose. “Hi.” She forced a smile and prayed he would just forget he was mad at her.

“You look nice today.” The words were kind, but James’s eyes flashed with something that looked a lot like anger.

“Thank you. I’m meeting Lottie and Kenna at the park this morning, and I forgot to tell you I have a session with Mason this afternoon.”

“I don’t want you to do that.” He shut the door and toed off his tennis shoes. “Mason looked at you like he wanted to drag you off to a dark corner the other day.”

Emma scoffed and tried to come up out of the wall squat. “You are a mystery but not petty. As far as I’ve learned.” She shouldn’t bait him, but the words were already out.

He thought he could come back after walking out then boss her around? Ho, boy was she getting in a mood now. What does he want from me?

He crossed his arms over his chest. “What is it that you’ve learned?”

“Where to start?” she snapped. “You keep the peace.” Balancing on one leg, she raised her knee.

“You say it like it’s a strike against me.” He stepped closer with hand outstretched.

She took his hand to help balance through the movements. Her fingers gripped his, and she closed her eyes and breathed slowly through the mild pain. When she opened them, she caught his gaze fixed on her lips. Really? Their first married fight, and he was leering at her? “You just can’t resist, can you?”

His gaze met hers. “What do you mean?”

“If Mason looked at me the way you do, you’d punch him.”

He blinked. “You’re married! I don’t have to be sleeping with you to protect you from a man who’d flirt with a married woman.”

“Are you worried that I’d start gossip, or that I’d flirt with someone who wasn’t you?” She studied him, trying to see into the real issue. Why were they even fighting?

What’s a girl got to do to please a husband around here? James appeared not to care one way or the other what she did, so the fact that he cared this time made her want to push.

She stalked around him into the kitchen to plate his breakfast. That would make him feel better. “Hungry?”

“Starving.” His voice was right behind her. His hands pressed against her waist and turned her to face him. “I don’t want breakfast. I don’t want coffee. I don’t want any of it if it’s some kind of twisted score you’re keeping just to make things even. I’m not keeping score. So why are you? If I wanted a maid and a cook I could have hired one.”

Was this the part where she’d see his true colors? Would he yell? Throw things like his brother?

He released her, slid his hands into his hair, and stepped away.

“What do you want?” she asked.

He threw his hands out toward her. “I want you! I want you to love me! That’s it. That’s my selfish, unattainable dream. I want a wife who loves me so much that everything she does is for my good, and the same that everything I do is for her good. In that marriage, it would be ridiculous to keep score. Do you think I’m running a tally? Emma! I enjoy the food, the house is awesome, but you have to stop. Stop all of it and just…” He spread his hands out, palms up. “Are you not happy here?”

Happy? Of course she was happy. Well, she wanted to be. Why was it so hard to embrace it? Why did it feel like a gift she wasn’t meant to have?

“It’s not about that.” She wrapped her arms around her middle, providing little shelter from the onslaught. “I owe you. I’ll owe you for the rest of my life!”

James recoiled, stepping backward while shaking his head. When he spoke, his words were quiet and measured. “You make me feel like I’m seventeen years old again, not good enough to clean the ground you walk on.”