“A symphony of flavors,” Ryan repeated. “Good term.”
“Guys,” Emmy said. “You can just come out and say that it tastes like crap.”
“Hey. Language,” Ryan said quickly, but then paused. “Okay. It tastes like crap.”
“Absolute crap!” I put my fork down. “I’m sorry,” I said quickly.
“No. No,” Ryan jumped in. “I think it’s very sweet you guys tried to cook dinner. Sure, it’s a bit off—”
“A bit?” I said sarcastically.
“It’s way, way off,” Emmy said. “It’s off AF.”
“AF?” Ryan turned to her. “What does that stand for?”
Emmy smiled at him. “You say it when something is very bad, or very good.” She gave me a little conspiratorial look and I raised my eyebrows at her.
I knew exactly what AF stood for, I wasn’t that old.
Ryan leaned back in his seat and put his fork down. He was wearing a casual jersey that looked slightly old and worn. He’d just showered and his hair was damp. He looked so relaxed and casual and comfortable that I just wanted to crawl up onto his lap and hug him. Everything about this moment felt so normal and natural, as if I was meant to be here.
“Pizza?” he asked.
“Please,” Emmy said quickly.
“I second that.” I stood up and gathered the plates.
“What does everyone want?” He pulled his phone out and started dialing.
“Regina,” Emmy shouted from the table.
I turned around and was just about to open my mouth when he smiled at me. “I know. Pepperoni.”
I smiled back at him.
The pizzas arrived and we ate them on the couch while watching TV. It felt cozy, as if we were all in exactly the right place. As if I fitted here, perfectly. Like a key sliding into a lock, I was unlocking something so precious and special that I wanted to be a part of it.
“I think I’m going to go to bed,” Emmy suddenly said, pushing the pizza box away and holding her stomach. “I am so full!” She stuck her stomach out even more.
“That pizza was good AF,” Ryan said, and Emmy burst out laughing. “What?” He looked confused.
“Please, never try and use that in a sentence again,” she said to him.
“Fine. Good night, love,” Ryan leaned forward and planted a kiss on her forehead.
“Night,” she looked at me, and I shot up.
“I better go to bed too. Before it gets too late and cold to walk out there and I freeze before I reach the guest room,” I joked.
Emmy looked from me to Ryan, and back again. “I don’t mind if you sleep inside. I mean, if you’re worried that I might think . . .” She paused. “I get it if you want to move inside,” she said.
“No, no!” I held my hand up. “It’s not like that. I’m not moving in or anything, this is just temporary. Until it’s okay to go home.”
She smiled and shrugged at us. “Cool. Well, whatever. I’m just saying.” She turned and walked upstairs.
I fiddled with my hair nervously; her words had caused a kind of awkward question to hang in the air, and now that she was gone, it felt like the question needed to be answered.
Ryan looked at me. “I wouldn’t want to confuse Emmy,” he suddenly said. “I wouldn’t want to send her the wrong message with you sleeping upstairs if this thing between us wasn’t—” He stopped talking and lowered his head. Put his hands into his pockets and shuffled his foot across the floor.
