Page 81 of The Emma Special

Emma said she’d give him her answer Monday morning. He would wait until eleven fifty-nine before bothering her. With his phone turned all the way up, he forced himself not to check for missed messages every two minutes. Flashbacks of high school kept him company all night. Him holding a spot on the catwalk high above the audience, waiting for Emma’s cue. Was that all he was destined for? Waiting for Emma to turn toward him?

“You’re pathetic, James.” He wanted good things for Emma. He’d said his piece; it was now up to her to decide whether or not she’d become his fake wife.

Fake wife. Even the thought made him want to hurl. He didn’t want a fake wife. Was he taking away her shot at true happiness with someone else? A future someone who wasn’t in the picture yet, but someone she would choose without the current pressure.

Her knee couldn’t wait for that future—she needed the help now. He wanted to be with her so badly that his plan was starting to feel more like backhanded manipulation than generosity. It wasn’t though. He would gladly pay for her medical needs outright. She’s the one who wouldn’t accept it. The back-and-forth was eating him up inside. He hadn’t tasted a decent meal since dinner at his parents’ house Friday night.

His phone rang on the kitchen table, and Emma’s name on the screen had him scrambling for the device like a magnet sucked toward its polar opposite.

“Emma?”

“Good morning. I’ll be arriving at your house in roughly thirty seconds. I’m just making sure you haven’t already left for work.”

She was coming to his house. Emma was coming here.

James sprinted to the front door and flung the lock open. “Um, yeah. I’m here. I’ve got time.”

“Perfect. Toodles!”

And the call went dead. The warning was nice, but an extra hour would have been nicer. At least he was already dressed and ready for work and not wallowing around in sweatpants like he had since four a.m.

He opened the front door just as Katie’s blue-striped Bronco rumbled into the driveway. Emma gave him a short wave from the passenger seat. He opened her door as the old vehicle came to a stop.

“Will you grab Marvin and Barvin out of the backseat?” she asked.

James squinted. “Who?”

“My trusty crutchys. Marvin and Barvin.”

Of course Emma named her crutches. “Sure.”

Emma stood, running her hands along her sweet blue dress like girls always did when they stood up. What did they think would happen if they didn’t smooth the fabric along their curves? James was pretty sure they did it to torture men on purpose.

The hem brushed the top of her wrapped knee as she steadied herself on the crutches. She looked up, and he averted his gaze over her head to Katie who’d probably caught him staring.

Emma ducked back into the spacious cab. “I won’t be long. I know you have to be at work at eight.”

“I can take you home. Or wherever you need to go,” James offered.

“Don’t you have to work today?” Emma asked.

“Yeah, but this is more important.”

“No, it’s not,” Emma chided with an eye roll.

“It is. You are.” He tilted his head to see Katie in the driver’s seat. “I promise to get her home safely.”

Katie shrugged. “I hereby release the patient to you. Here, please carry this inside for her.” She passed him Emma’s backpack, the one she’d used to transport the princess dress a few weeks ago. “She’s in your care until I get off work at five.”

“Katie, wait⁠—”

“Bye!” The engine roared as Katie backed out of his driveway.

With a smile, James waved for Emma to lead. “Care to come inside?”

She tucked Marvin and Barvin under her arms and grabbed the handles. “I was hoping we could talk with air conditioning. It’s not even seven a.m. and I’m already glistening.”

“Do you want me to⁠—”