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I stare at her with wide eyes, my mouth hanging open a bit. I don't understand what caused her to do a one-eighty.
“Everything okay?”
I snap out of it at the sound of Emerson's voice. “Yes, are you ready to go?”
“People are going over to their house,” Mrs. Montgomery says to Emerson. “You should go.”
He shakes his head. “I don't think I will. We've got that drive home, too.” He kisses her cheek, says goodbye, and leads us to his truck. When we get on the interstate, Emerson asks, “What did Mom say to you?”
“Nothing,” I lie. He doesn't need me to add onto today.
“You looked as if she had slapped you, Eva,” he points out. I wish she had because it felt like it. It probably wouldn't have hurt as much either. “What did she say?” he repeats.
I ignore him. “Did you say goodbye?”
He glances at me, but I don't acknowledge him. “Yes.” He adjusts the heat and adds, “I forgave her.”
“That's good.”
“I even thanked her.”
This time, I glance at him. “For what?”
He shrugs and uses one hand to undo the buttons at his neck. “Everything. The time she gave me and for the break. I don't agree with it still, but if I had known, I would have done exactly what she didn't want me to do.” He reaches for my hand. “And I wouldn't have met you.”
“Yes, you would have. You roomed with Glen. You would have met me eventually.”
“Maybe, but maybe not.” He stops long enough to take a breath. “What did she say?”
I lean my head against the headrest, thankful I'm on this side of the truck instead of on the middle. “Why do you think she hates me now?” I ask.
“Because of the funeral home. You didn't do as she thought you should and you went against her.”
Great. “I've done it twice now. Three times if you count that conversation.”
“When was the first time?” he asks as he changes lanes.
“When you walked outside that day? She told me not to follow you, and I ignored her.”
“I'm glad you did,” he says solemnly. Again, he doesn't let it go. “I think part of it with my mom is the thing with Luke. Mom has frowned upon most girls who are...associated...with Luke because she thinks they are as bad as he can be. They obviously aren't any good if they'll hook up with him like that, is her thinking. You started inching to her bad side then.”
“So I'm on her shit list for something that happened two years ago?”
He squeezes my hand. “Maybe. Don't worry about it.”
“I'm not supposed to worry about your mom hating me and thinking you shouldn't have ever been with me?” I blurt out.
He jerks his gaze in my direction and I immediately regret saying it. “What did she say to you, Eva?”
There's no escaping it this time. “She told me you should have been with Kelly.” I hurry to explain what led to her saying so.
He shakes his head. “I'm sorry, Eva. Kelly was like a daughter to her, but she shouldn't have said that to you. It's not your fault or mine that I wasn't with Kelly the past year and a half. It's Kelly's. She can't blame you for me being with you now. Ignore it.”
“Okay.” Being on his mother's good side is preferable, but Emerson's is the only opinion that matters to me. I reach out to find the country music station and adjust the volume, turning it higher just a bit.
We are quiet on the drive back, stopping to pick up food before we reach his apartment. Inside, I take off my heels, grateful to have them off my feet. Emerson asks me if I'm staying tonight, and I am, and with how my work schedule is for the next few days, I have a feeling I'll be staying here for the rest of the week. He's kept me within reach since Sunday, not that I've minded. I like being here with him.
Emerson goes to lie down on the couch, turning on the TV, while I throw away our trash. I glance at him, debating if I want to lie with him or make him pick up his feet. He's untucked his dress shirt and unbuttoned it, so it falls to his sides, revealing his undershirt. Emerson holds out his hand and makes the decision for me to lie with him.
