Page 109 of Anything But Lonely

Before I can protest, she's helping me climb over the barricade, steadying me as I swing one leg over and then the other. My feet barely hit the ground before she's turning me toward a security guard waiting nearby.

"Take her," Mia says to him, giving me another nudge forward.

I stumble a step, half-laughing, half-crying, and the guard catches my arm before I can completely lose my balance.

"This way,” he says, and even he’s smiling.

The noise of the crowd grows louder as he leads me along the side of the venue. The stage looms above me, impossibly bright, the lights casting everything in gold and white.

My pulse thunders in my ears with every step toward the staircase tucked along the side of the stage.

Toward Mateo.

Toward Crew.

Toward the two people I've been pretending I could ever walk away from.

CHAPTER 37

MATEO

Emerson rushes up the stairs, closing the distance between us, and it’s like the world around us completely fades.

“Ems!” Crew practically launches himself out of my arms the second he sees her, and I grab his mic and stick it in my back pocket.

His little hands reach desperately toward her, his whole face lighting up as though she's the only person in the world he can see. I tighten my hold around him before he can tumble straight out of my grasp and off the stage.

I barely hear the crowd anymore.

All I can focus on is Emerson making her way toward us.

The closer she gets, the more I can see. The tear tracks glistening on her cheeks beneath the stage lights.

The way she's trying—and failing—to stop more tears from spilling over.

The way she lets them.

The tremble in her bottom lip. The disbelief written all over her face, like she still can't quite process what she just witnessed.

My chest squeezes so hard it almost hurts.

Crew squirms again, reaching for her. "Ems!"

The sound of her name on his lips nearly destroys me.

Emerson lets out a shaky laugh that breaks halfway through, one hand flying to her mouth as a fresh tear slips free.

Then she's there.

She wraps her arms around Crew first, pulling him against her chest so tightly that he squeals. A second later, her other arm circles around my shoulders, and I don't hesitate.

I fold myself into her.

Into them.

Into the warmth of my son pressed between myself and the woman who became part of my life so seamlessly, I forgot what life looked like without her.

Crew's tiny arms hook around both of our necks, trapping us together in the clumsy, desperate embrace only a four-year-old can manage.