Page 53 of Emil

“Definitely, positively, absolutely good. It smells delicious.”

When he swept into the kitchen, Emil headed straight for me. I wasn’t sure what he was about until he dropped a soft kiss on my cheek. It was sweet and domestic and lovely.

And it also kind of sort of maybe almost definitely scared the hell out of me.

“How was the office?”

Emil had texted me early that morning to say he was going in for a meeting and would be gone all day. Somewhere around eleven, he’d texted again to remind me not to work through lunch. It was hard not to get giddy over the attention. It was even harder to keep my expectations from running wild, but it felt so different from when John and I had started seeing each other. Not that Emil and I were seeing each other, but it was hard to leave it undefined.

John had love-bombed me from the beginning. He’d been everything I’d ever wanted and more. He’d hung on my every word and given me constant attention, but that attention had come with strings. Restrictions. A demand that every thought be centered around him. At first, I’d been flattered. Then overwhelmed. Then resigned. No matter how hard I tried or how much I gave, it always came with a correction, a suggestion, or some other signal that I’d messed it up and would never be good enough.

Emil, on the other hand, made me think I could do almost anything I wanted and he’d be okay with it, as long as the thing I wanted wasn’t working too late, skipping meals, or turning myself inside out to make him happy.

“The office was… Let’s call it insightful. I’ll tell you about it after dinner because I want to give this food my full attention. What are you cooking, anyway?” Emil leaned against the counter and watched me putter around the kitchen, finishing off meal prep.

“Pot roast, roasted carrots, mashed potatoes, and salad, so I can pretend it’s healthy. And because I had a little time this afternoon, some fresh rolls.”

Emil looked at the table already set, and his eyes landed on the flowers.

“Oh. I didn’t realize the deliveries already started.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

“Uh, what?” Emil looked suspiciously guilty.

“What what?” I responded.

“Nothing. Never mind. I just confused myself. Anyway, the flowers are pretty. Where did they come from?”

“Oh, I ran some errands during lunch and⁠—”

“Errands for here?”

“Uh, yeah? I needed some cleaning supplies for the cottage and paper products.”

“Shit, I forgot to update the grocery order. Here.” Emil pulled some money from his pocket and shoved it into my hand.

“Why are you giving me this?”

“Because you don’t need to be stocking anything at the cottage.” He returned to his position, legs crossed at the ankles, radiating calm authority.

“But since I’m the one using the supplies, it should be on me. I don’t mind.”

“Mind isn’t the point. It’s not your responsibility to spend your money on it. I’m going to pull rank on this one. Sorry for interrupting. You were telling me about the flowers. Go on, please.”

Emil looked stern for the first time since I’d known him. Rather than argue, I slipped the money into my pocket.

“Uh, so after I grabbed a sandwich at the deli”—my gut told me he’d interrupt again to ask about lunch if I didn’t say it outright—“I stopped at the flower shop to buy myself flowers.”

“They’re gorgeous.”

“Yeah, Jonah did a good job.”

“Jonah?”

“The guy from the flower shop who put them together.” Now was as good a time as any to ask about changing my hours. “They’re offering a class there on flower arranging.”

“Oh yeah? Are you going to take it?”