And more than that too, which I think he knew too.
He got me to admit that I missed him because I did.
“It may not be a bad thing,” I said quietly. “But it wasn’t fair to you either.”
Emmett’s hands never stopped their slow, steady press on my neck and shoulders. Up the back of my neck, down the sides, over the slope of my shoulder where his thumbs would dig in deeper. Back up, this time his fingers tangled into the ends of my hair, and he worked on the base of my scalp.
“How about you let me decide what’s fair?” His voice was a delicious rumble, closer to my ear than it had been before. “I’m a big boy, Adaline. I can handle it, even if it doesn’t change anything.”
That was the problem, wasn’t it?
I wished it could.
Change that I had a thriving business I didn’t want to walk away from.
Change that Tim was sick, and I’d never leave my family to deal with that alone.
Change that Emmett was magically here.
None of that would change, and I desperately wished it wasn’t the case.
“You were crying when I walked in,” he said smoothly. “Wanna talk about it?”
The bridge of my nose got all tingly, which was never a good sign. If the nose tingled, then my eyes would get hot. If that happened, I was one strong breeze away from crying, and the splotchiness would spread all over my chest.
No. I didn’t want to talk about it. But I owed him something.
“I have to go home on Sunday,” I whispered.
For the first time since he started, Emmett’s hands slowed to a stop.
“For how long?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “At least a few days.”
The subtext of why I told him settled between us, heavy and frustrating.
I left tomorrow to set up for Isabel’s party. He’d leave for the beach house the day before I headed home.
Yet again, we were faced with the prospect of one night. Maybe two.
It was a tease. It was torture.
And it wasn’t nearly enough.
Emmett slid his hands off my neck and turned me to face him. He snagged a chair from the conference table and settled his big body into it, his legs spread wide around mine so that he could rest his hands on the armrests of mine.
Caged in by Emmett Ward. What a place to be.
I was surrounded by him, and all I wanted was to burrow further into all the heat and comfort he seemed to naturally emit.
It had always been like that. Emmett was the sun, bright and warm and life-giving. Whenever he was around, it was instinct to seek him out.
His eyes searched mine before he said anything, and I appreciated that about him.
He wasn’t one of those guys who talked for the sake of hearing his own voice.
I didn’t seek out watching his games in the past, not until my brother played with him for those couple of years, but when I did—it was the same way he led his team. There was no temper-driven screaming. No petulant outbursts if something didn’t go his way. Even when he messed up, or when a teammate messed up, Emmett always managed the game with collected calm.
“Did something happen?” he asked.
I nodded.
Before I answered, I turned in my seat and grabbed the donut in the corner of the box. I took a small bite of the glazed cake donut and sighed. “This is my favorite kind,” I told him.
He studied my face with affection bright in his eyes. “Noted.”