Page 83 of The Emma Special

His mind stopped swirling.

He lifted his head once, thinking she must be waiting for him to break contact first. Her hand on the back of his neck pushed him closer. “Not yet. Thirty more seconds.”

“You’re timing this?” He pulled her even tighter and appreciated how they fit together. The rightness of it came rushing in with the same delight he felt while seeing her at work for the past month. The fun they had, the encouragement she gave him, the flirting—not just the physical attraction he knew was there. Real conversations, working well together, getting to know and trust each other. Then the not-a-date last Friday that turned into the disaster of the ER… all of it culminating to this moment. Holding Emma and being held by her was more right than any of his doubts had been wrong.

Her hand inched up the back of his neck, fingers edging along his hair line. The sensation was all-encompassing. He lived only where her fingers moved.

“Thirty-nine. Forty.” She flattened her hands against his back. “Okay, you can let me go now. Feel better?”

James slowly let her take her own weight and held her away so he could see her face. “That was nice.”

“Agreed.” Emma’s hands rested on his shoulders, and she didn’t react when he brushed her hair out of her face and wrapped it behind her ear. “I read in a sciency book that a forty-second hug with someone you trust tells your brain to chill out, which then makes your body relax, and then you can be braver or whatever. It supposedly hijacks your brain to produce happy brain juice and reduces stress—even going so far as to protect you from the stress you’ll feel tomorrow.” She shrugged with a half-smile. “So, yeah.”

He felt so relaxed that he was about to make a joke about a forty-second kiss. He’d table that one for later. “Maybe we can do more sciency stuff again sometime.”

She narrowed her eyes and reached for her crutches. “Let me make us breakfast.”

“This way.” He stepped around her, avoiding the urge to help her into the kitchen. He’d have to trust her to ask for help if she needed it, or he’d end up smothering her.

She complimented his small home as they made their way to the kitchen. After unloading her backpack full of containers with prepped ingredients, she had him zipping around the kitchen pulling out the right pans and utensils. Thankfully he had everything she needed—some of them he’d never even used before. Who needed three pans at the same time?

“Awesome,” she said, surveying the counter. “We can get started now. Coffee first, okay?”

“Yes, please.”

“Here.” Emma leaned across the island and slapped a bundle of folded papers in front of him. “Read those to us.”

“Is this the list?” He unfolded what was actually three notebook pages filled with cursive writing in a rainbow of shimmering ink. A smile curved his lips even as he read the first item outloud. “Where will I sleep?”

He glanced at her while she poured grits into a pan half-filled with water. “This house has two bedrooms,” he said. “I can only sleep in one bed at a time. So the other room is yours. There’s only one bathroom though, sorry.”

“Do you have a pencil or something? Can you make notes there while I cook?”

“Yeah…” James grabbed a pen in a drawer he’d dedicated to office supplies. He checked off the first item as self-explanatory and narrated the second item. “Am I allowed to borrow your car?”

He thought for a moment. His BMW ranked high on driver and passenger safety. It was easy to drive, and he brought it in for regular tune-ups. The tires had been replaced last fall. Might need to have them looked at before winter.

“Oookay.” Emma said with a laugh. “I won’t drive your car. No biggie.”

“You can drive the car. Once you’ve been cleared by a doctor after surgery, of course. Until then, I’ll happily drive you around.” He clicked his pen and drew another check.

“No, you paused for a long time. It’s okay. I get it.”

“Emma, let’s get one thing straight right now.” James leaned forward on his elbows. “If I say yes, I mean yes. If I say no, I mean no. You don’t ever have to wonder if I mean what I say. Drive the car, except not right now because I will drive you anywhere you need to go. We’ll get you your own as soon as you’re cleared. I don’t know why I didn’t think of that earlier. Do you mind if I look over these on my own?”

Emma curled her lips between her teeth and nodded. Pre-chopped bacon was sizzling in one skillet, and she added a container of diced green onions to the meat. While he watched, an alarm went off on her watch, and she hopped across the kitchen and pressed the top of the French press.

He glanced down the extensive list going on to the last page. Only ninety-five more items to go. Some of them were simple yes or no questions like, “Is James allergic to animals?” to which he marked “No” beside the question, but added a note, “But he doesn’t want to own any animals at this time.” Some required more thought like, “Do we announce the engagement in the paper? Do we continue to attend separate churches? When will insurance kick in? Where will we live? When will this go down?”

He skimmed the questions, marking off the no-brainers. Wrote short notes in the margins of the ones requiring deeper thought. Placed an asterisk on items that had a quick answer but probably deserved discussion.

He tapped his pen on the corner of page two, thinking through the question on finances. He knew couples who had joint accounts for everything. Some had separate accounts for good reasons—others were distrustful and selfish. His mom had a personal account that his dad deposited a monthly allowance into. At first that seemed controlling, but on the other hand it was a good amount of money that Mom spent however she wanted when all the bills came from somewhere else. Maybe that was better. They’d have to discuss finances in detail.

The colored ink was a new feature for him, but deciphering fine print and reading between the lines was what he did every day. Somehow he got so absorbed in studying the document his senses ignored the meal being prepped right in front of him until Emma set a plate on top of the papers.

“Shrimp and grits. Eat up.” Emma set a second plate on the bar next to him before hopping around to the seat.

The delicious aroma of fresh bacon bits, garlic, shrimp, and cheesy grits filled him with an overwhelming sense of yes. Yes. “Wipe my mouth, I’m already drooling. And coffee!” A steaming cup rested beside the pages. “How did I miss this? Is it—” He looked at her settling into the seat beside him. Teasing, he bit his knuckle in mock anguish. “Is it The Emma Special?”