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The last word is more of a gasp than anything as I drag oxygen into my lungs. Emma’s eyes are wide as saucers at my verbal vomit. “Fuck. I shouldn’t have said any of that to you. God dammit. I can’t—” I suck in a breath as the magnitude of what I’ve said to Emma dawns on me. “Can you…I should take you home. Is that okay? Am I allowed to drive you home?”
“Um, why wouldn’t you be allowed to drive me home? Also, you and my mom dated?”
“That’s what you got out of that? Yes, Emma. Well, I tried to date your mom, but she made it very difficult. I managed to take her out a grand total of two times before she—never mind.” I sigh. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”
I hand her Max’s leash and dash into the house to grab my car keys and collect my thoughts. Once inside the safety of my home, I let loose a string of expletives as I pace to my dining room table. What the hell is going on?
First Sophie quits without so much as a heads up. Was she that afraid of my reaction? Is she so unwilling to see me that she had to leave Mailbox? Did I really screw things up so badly? All I did was offer to help, I don’t understand why it feels like Sophie would rather see or talk to anyone but me. After our conversation the other night I thought I had a chance again. Then today the rug’s been pulled out from under me.
Now Emma is here, asking for a job walking Max. I want to help the kid out—I get that feeling of not wanting to be a burden. God, I used to hate it when my mom would give me “spending money” that I knew had come from Casey’s last paycheck. But how can I let her walk Max when Sophie doesn’t want anything to do with me? Wouldn’t that be betraying Sophie?
My fingers trace the outline of my phone in my pocket. I could text Sophie and ask her what she wants me to do. But I’m so angry at her I don’t think I can be civil. Better to just take Emma home and avoid the subject. If Sophie wants to slink away without a word, I’ll let her.
Maybe.
I swipe my keys from my coat pocket and storm back out the door, locking it behind me. “Let’s go.”
Emma looks up from her spot sitting in the grass, Max draped over her legs, his belly offered up for the scratches she’s doling out. “Go?”
“Hop in the car, I’ll take you home.”
I lean down to swipe the end of Max’s leash. “Come on, traitor.” I tug and Max rolls to his feet. “You can come too.”
Emma doesn’t speak until we’re all in the car, Max drooling out the window. “Let me get this straight. You took my mom out on a couple of dates, but now she won’t talk to you. And you’re mad she quit Mailbox, but you won’t let me walk Max because you think my mom told me to do it? That makes no sense.” She pauses, as if waiting for me to answer, but I stay silent. “So….You really like my mom, huh?”
The sneak attack catches me off guard, but I manage to clamp down and only grunt in response.
“Oh, okay Witcher. If that’s how you want to play it.”
“Emma,” I growl in response. “Drop it.”
She hums, reaching back to scratch Max’s ears as I turn onto her street. “No, I don’t think I will. You don’t scare me, mister.”
“I should.”
“Why? Because you might fire my mom? She already quit.”
The direct hit to my ego stings, making my next words sharp. “I thought you wanted a job walking Max?”
“I do, but if you say no, there’s nothing I can do. But if you like my mom…”
She pauses and I glance away from the road to see her twisting her head from side to side, like she’s debating with herself. “Out with it. If I like your mom…what?”
“If you and my mom are dating, wouldn’t I get to walk Max anyways?”
“Your mom doesn’t want to date me.” Thank God their shitty apartment complex is in view, I don’t know how much more I can take. I pull in and stop the car just in front of their building.
“But if she did…”
The incessant questions snap something inside me and I lash out. “But she doesn’t, Emma. Your mom didn’t want to be seen with me in public, did she? She’d rather be my fucking side-piece than have anyone know she was with me. I don’t think your mom has any idea how amazing she is, and she deserves to be with someone who’s going to remind her of it and treat her like the cardigan-wearing badass she is. Your dad—sorry, kid—he’s fucking trash, and I never want her to feel like she did because of him again. It kills me to see her still struggling because of the choices he’s made. Especially when I could easily make it all go away.”
“My dad is a waste of oxygen—I’ve known it for years.” Emma sighs, thumping her head against the seat. “How did you know Elinor was my mom?”
“How could I not?” I grind out, barely keeping my volume in check. “I see her every day. When she showed up as Elinor I thought it was a joke, but then I saw a new side of Sophie that night. And I liked it. A lot. But the evening was a disaster, or so I thought. Then she texted and—”
The kid does not need to know about the weekend we spent secluded in my bed so I cut myself off.
“And when I finally managed to get your mom to come out with me, it ended with you in the emergency room and she cut me off again. I can’t keep up anymore.”
