Page 58 of The Mixtape


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“Beautiful, right?”

“Yes. Stunning.”

Say something to her.

Something that makes sense, though.

But something that matters too.

Just talk.

Say something!

“I’m sorry,” I sputtered out.

“Sorry? For what?”

“For having you cook on a holiday. I’ve been overthinking it since I asked. I should’ve just invited you over and hired a caterer. It was rude of me to ask. Sometimes I don’t think things through until I overthink it and—”

Her hand fell on my forearm. “Don’t overthink this one, Oliver. Today was so fun, and it gave me a chance to do what I love the most. Being able to cook for you has reminded me so much of who I want to be. This is my passion, and because of you I’m able to make it come to life.”

I sighed, relieved. “Good. I’m glad.”

“Are you okay?” she asked me, posing her normal question.

“I’m all right today.”

Her eyes flashed with emotions, and her hand, which was still on my arm, squeezed so gently. “Really?” she asked, getting emotional. You would’ve thought I’d said it was the best day I’d ever had.

“Yeah, really. Today was good.” The tears that were sitting at the back of her eyes began to fall, and I lightly chuckled. “Don’t cry, Em.”

“Sorry, gosh, it’s all the wine your mom has been giving me, I swear,” she laughed, taking her hand away from my arm and wiping her eyes. The moment her hand left my skin, I missed her touch. “It’s just . . . since I’ve been asking you how you’ve been, that’s never been the answer. That makes me so happy, Oliver.” She was overly emotional about it, which made me feel bad for making her that way.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“Happy tears,” she said, laughing a little. “Just happy tears. I’m really happy for you. You deserve good days.”

“Emery?”

“Yes?”

“Are we friends?”

Her brown eyes smiled more than her lips. “Of course we are.”

“Okay, good.” I felt myself becoming uncomfortable, feeling stupid for even asking her that question. But ever since my father asked me what Emery and I were, I truly wanted to know. Because in my mind, we were friends, but sometimes my mind lied to me.

“I like that about you, you know,” she commented.

“What’s that?”

“How shy you get at times and how you overthink things. I mean, let’s be honest. You might be thinking just enough, and the rest of the world is underthinking. Perspective,” she joked.

I gave her a half smile, and she gladly gave me the other half.

“I like when you do that too. Smile.”

Seemed as if I’d been doing more of that ever since she’d come around.

Shortly after, Reese came dashing toward me. “Mr. Mith! Can I sit in your lap to watch the fireworks?”

I shifted around and held my arms out toward her. She hopped into my arms and rested against me as she looked up to the sky. I noticed that Catie and Garrett were sitting in Tyler’s arms, and I was certain that was where Reese got the idea.

I held her tighter as she laid her head on my shoulder. I could tell she was getting tired, which wasn’t shocking after the active day she’d had with her new friends. Her eyes were somewhat open as she tried to watch the fireworks overhead. She yawned with her mouth wide open before snuggling against me.

“Mr. Mith?” she whispered.

“Yeah, kid?”

“The music I heard you playing with your dad didn’t sound like garbage.”

Within seconds, she was asleep in my arms, not knowing how much those words touched me. That little girl was adorable in every way possible. From her dark hair to her bright smile. I swore she had Emery’s eyes too. And her button nose, and her heart. I had no doubt that Reese had her mother’s heartbeats.

After the fireworks show came to an end, I placed the sleeping Reese in one of the spare rooms of my house. Kelly and Tyler both headed out, exhausted but with smiles on their faces. Mom and Dad were still drinking and dancing outside with one another, because that was who they were, and they’d dance all night if their feet allowed it.

Emery was in the kitchen trying to clean up the mess that had piled up throughout the evening. I walked over to her by the sink and placed a hand on her shoulder. “You don’t have to do this tonight. I’ll handle it in the morning.”

“Oh gosh, no way. I can get it all cleaned up. It’s not a big deal.”

“It’s been a long day. I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

“I’ll get to sleep in tomorrow. It’s really okay.”

“Let me help you,” I offered.

“Don’t tell me you two kids are in here cleaning,” Mom said, coming into the kitchen with an emptied glass. “You should be outside with us drinking up some wine and dancing! Come on,” she said, waving us in her direction as she went to pick up another bottle of wine.

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