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“Oh.” A note of disappointment in her voice confuses me.

“I like being with her. She’s a lot of fun and has the craziest perspective on the world. She doesn’t ask questions about me or where I came from; she only cares about who I am now and just wants to be with me.”

“And that’s good, right?”

“Yes, not talking about my past is a relief, honestly.” And I am being honest. Trying to, anyway. I'm actually surprised by this, that I want to tell Emma the truth, like she’d understand in some way. “But I don’t want her to need me like she does. I just want…” I consider how to explain it without making Emma worried I’m leading Rachel on in any way, which I’m not. “I don’t want any pressure.”

“She’s always needed someone,” Emma replies, then presses her lips together as if to keep from saying more. “I didn’t mean it like it sounded…”

“You’re probably right.” Rachel talks constantly about all the people she’s met or who remain in her life, with Emma and her father notably absent.

Her stories always include a friend or a guy she was seeing. Almost none of them are permanent. “I’m not sure it’s me she needs, exactly.” I run a hand over my face, clearing the exhaustion, feeling just as vulnerable with my honesty as Emma. “I shouldn’t really be talking about my relationship—with you—anyway. Sorry, I’m sure it’s weird.”

“A little.”

Emma is silent for a moment, contemplating. Then a small smile emerges.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she says dismissively, fiddling with the edge of the blanket like she did with the napkin in the restaurant. Honesty wins out. “I was just thinking. I can understand why she'd want you to stay.”

I’m truthfully not sure how to interpret that. But I’m sure it has something to do with the lie Emma believes—that what’s happening between me and Rachel is more than it is. “Then does that make me a horrible person for needing some space?”

“No. I’m just not sure how she’ll do with the space. She really likes you.”

I sigh. No matter how much I was trying to ignore it, I figured as much. To put Emma at ease, I say, “I like her too. But you’ll be here with her."

The laugh that escapes her is curt and humorless. “It's not the same.”

I give her a curious smile; I can’t believe she went there. She’s definitely misinterpreting what’s happening—more like, isn’t. I have a feeling whatever story Rachel’s telling her isn’t helping. I’m not sure how to set her straight without causing friction between them. I don’t want her to distrust her mother. Although she is lying—and so am I.

Emma rises from the couch. “I guess I should go to bed.” Before she walks too far, she turns to me. "Jonathan?"

"Yes, Emma."

"Please don't hurt her." Her voice is small and weighted with emotion. "I don't want to see her hurt again."

I take in her worry. She’s protective, as if Rachel were the child and not her. So much history created that frown. And I only know a sliver of it.

I am completely honest when I tell her, "I don't want to hurt her either." Except I’m not convinced Rachel’s at risk of being hurt by anyone other than herself.

Collin scowls at me like he’s waiting for me to announce a terminal illness.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I fidget in my chair, unable to escape his scrutinizing stare.

“Why do you look like that?” he demands, like I started this. I guess I did when I told him to come over, that I had something important to tell him.

“Do you remember New Year's—”

A devilish grin takes over his face. “Of course I do.”

“I didn’t call you over here to talk about your love life. But since you brought it up—”

“Stop. You first.”

I take a breath of courage. “Um… well, there was this whole theme about moving on.”

“And you rejected it within a month.”