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“I brought lunch.” She holds up a bag. “I wasn’t sure if you had ventured out yet since the storm, and we thought we’d come spend some time with you.” She brushes past him and makes her way to the kitchen.“Plus, I needed a break, if you know what I mean.” She sets the bags down, and he follows her into the kitchen to help.
No, I don’t know what she means. What does she mean?
At this point, Moose runs back into the living room and jumps back up on the couch next to me. Bryce has followed.
“Hi,” he says to me, offering me a tiny wave.
Juliet’s head pops up, and her gaze lands on me. Her mouth falls open, regret and then horror instantly filling her face.
“Clay.” She turns to look at him. “I amsosorry.”
Inside I’m rejoicing at this reaction. If she’s comfortable enough to just walk in here and not worry about Clay having company, that means it’s not often he has someone over.
He shakes his head. “It’s fine.”
She looks back to me, and then that horror shifts to displeasure.
Oh.
It seems she shares Clay’s opinion of me, whatever that might be exactly.
“Hi, Emma,” she says to be polite, but there’s a coolness in her tone.
“Hi,” I say, smiling widely at her, pretending I didn’t catch her unwanted reaction.
She looks back and forth again between the two of us and then says to Clay, “I didn’t bring food for four.”
The two of them share a look. Clay is already a quiet guy, so I guess they’ve learned to communicate in other ways over the years, and right now I am definitely not included in this private conversation.
“It’s okay,” I say, butting in. “I’m not that hungry. You three go ahead.” Bryce climbs up onto the couch next to me to be near Moose. The dog licks his face, and he giggles.
Juliet looks from me to Clay one more time and then proceeds like she was, like I’m not even here.
“Mom is driving me crazy,” she says, pulling things from the bag she was carrying and placing them on the counter. “I don’t know how we lived with her for so long. Was she always as neurotic as she is now? I swear I can’t even leave my coffee cup on the table for three minutes while I’m going to the bathroom before she confiscates it and puts it in the dishwasher. Everything is ‘Juliet, don’t do that,’ ‘Bryce, don’t touch this.’ She’s killing me.”
While she’s speaking, Clay grabs plates out of the cabinet and sets them on the counter next to where she is working.
“You’re the one who’s taking so long to decide. You only have yourself to blame,” he says as he walks over and picks up his sandwich, which is loaded withturkey and tomatoes. My stomach growls at the sight of it, but I remain silent as I watch them.
She looks up at him, quickly glances at me, and then looks back at him. Clay has moved to the bag where he finds some chips, and he pops open the package. Meanwhile her cheeks have turned red.
“Well, that’s another reason why I came over today . . . I found one.”
He pauses as he holds the chips in one hand and the plate he’s pouring them onto in another and raises his brows at her.
“I did,” she says.
He nods then puts half of his sandwich on another plate along with some chips and carries it over to me. Juliet is watching him and kind of glaring at me.
“Thank you,” I say quietly, not feeling like I belong here at all.
He just presses his lips into a thin line then goes about his conversation with her.
“Where is it?” he asks as he walks back to the kitchen and sits on one of the bar stools. She pushes his plate over to him and hands him a bottle of some drink she bought him. I don’t see what it is, and it’s just another thing I don’t know about him. I have no idea what his favorite drinks are.
“Two blocks off Main Street. Over on Welbeck Lane.” She smiles. “Bryce, come sit next to Uncle Clay, it’s time for lunch.”
He scampers off the couch and climbs up onto the stool next to him. They look so cute sitting next to each other, and my heart squeezes tight as Clay reaches over and rubs his hand upand down his nephew’s back.
