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“Ouch!” I screech, reaching back to soothe the area. “Bitch.”
She forcefully digs a finger into the center of my chest. “Don't you dare talk about leaving me. He already chased you away once, I'll be damned if I let him do it again.”
Meg’s right. When I was here before on assignment, she and I spent the entire twelve weeks glued to the hip, and she was my only support when Emmett called and broke my heart. She refused to let me completely wallow in self-pity, so if we weren't working, we were partying. If we weren't partying, we were laying on her couch eating Chinese food and sipping champagne. She became the first real friend I had made in my life that loved me for me. Eventually, I grew restless, and terrified of the idea that Emmett might take his new family and move home, so I took the opportunity to run and stayed away for a year until she texted me one day and told me they had full-time openings on her unit. She also threatened to chop my hair off in my sleep if I didn't apply. Now, two years later, we are back to being attached at the hip.
“Anyways,” she continues, “now that I have your attention, I say go over there for dinner. Be your sweet, funny, hot, charming self. Get him to fall madly in love with you and then kick his ass to the curb.”
I force a laugh, letting her, and myself, believe I'd consider doing that. But that's easier said when she hasn't met Emmett. When she doesn't know what it's like to be held by him, to have him next to you building you up when you only know how to tear yourself down.
~
“Knock, Jenna. Raise your hand up, close your first, and knock on the damn door.”
The tip of my nose is cold, breaths visible in the crisp evening air, but I need a minute to ground myself before I knock on Emmett’s door. The front door of his childhood home, the home that I once called mine. Grounding myself to the real possibility that Emmett’s ex-wife has redecorated the only home I have ever loved. His mom’s floral wallpaper border was most likely replaced with modern crown molding. Her pale pink carpet ripped to reveal refinished wood floors. All of which are arguably more modern styles, but it irritates me the same.
A shadow breaks my daydream and I gasp at Emmett’s furrowed brow peeking through the vertical window on my right.
He opens the front door to me, pausing in the entryway. “I didn't hear you knock. Have you been out here long?”
He takes a step back, widening the space and ushering me inside. But my feet are frozen in place. I stare past him, taking note of the dish towel thrown over his shoulder, the dark gray Henley he’s wearing stretching across his strong chest, sleeves pushed up to show his corded forearms, and the faint singing of a two-year-old echoing down the hall.
“Jenna?” he prompts again, this time reaching a hand out to grasp my forearm and pull me inside.
“Sorry,” I stammer, crossing over the threshold into his home, eyes flicking up and around, noticing the paint color in the entryway hasn’t changed. The row of brass hooks remains on the wall, the large family photo that once sat above them gone.
I reach down to slip off my boots and set them nicely in the corner of the doormat, making sure not to trek any of the snow into his home before shuffling off my jacket and hanging it, along with my purse, on an empty hook.
He watches my every move, keeping quiet until I have all my items put away.
“I remember the day when you used to kick your shoes off the second you got home, not stopping to see where they landed. Now look at you.”
His memories are like a shot to the heart, each one an invisible cut. “This isn’t my home anymore,” I tell him coolly.
His eyes hit the floor. He nods slowly. “Got it.”
When he raises his head, his eyes are back to staring at my face, then move to my hair, following its path over my shoulders, ending at the tops of my breasts. “Do you ever wear it curly anymore?”
Before I have time to open my mouth, Allie comes barreling down the hall, the cape on her princess gown flying behind her as she slams into the back of Emmett’s legs. He reaches an arm behind her to tickle her and with a steady grip pulls her up and over his shoulder until she's facing me. Upside down but facing me. Her thin blonde hair cascades down and she grins widely.
“Remember my friend Jenna from the store? She's here to have dinner with us.”
Allie smiles but stays quiet as Emmett flips her over until she’s sitting in his arms.
Instinctively, I offer her a palm for a handshake, before I quickly remember that most two-year old’s aren’t well-versed in formal greetings, so instead I drop it and reach out to run my finger along the hem of her dress. “I love your dress. Are you Cinderella?”
A broad smile crosses her face as she nods enthusiastically.
“Cinderella was one of my favorites.” The idea of living with an evil mom and still ending up with the handsome prince always appealed to me for some unknown reason. “I didn't know she had a cape.”
Emmett chuckles, planting a loud kiss on Allie’s cheek before setting her down.
She immediately runs away, but once she gets to the entrance of the living room she stops abruptly, face half hiding behind the wall yet still peeking at me. She reaches a small hand out and ushers me to follow her.
“Cinderella doesn’t have a cape, but the Snow-White dress my sister got her came with one. She loved it, so she made my mom sew a cape on her Cinderella dress, too.”
Well, if that's not the cutest thing I've ever heard.
She peeks around the corner again, her little hand waving to me.
