She giggles. “But you talked to me. Are you a teacher?”
“I’m a firefighter.”
“Shut up,” she says in disbelief. “You’re a firefighter? Wait—are you the one who was at the school with my mom and that guy who got shot? Is that how you met?”
“Guilty,” I say.
She bounces. “I like you even more now. You’re like my mom’s hero.”
“I’m not so sure about that, but either way, I don’t think she wants another one of those in her life.”
“You mean because of my grandpa?”
“Yeah.”
“Can I give you a piece of advice?” she asks.
I try not to laugh at this twelve-year-old girl trying to impart her wisdom to me. “Sure.”
“Mom doesn’t know what she wants. She thinks she does. But she’s wrong. For as long as I can remember, it’s been just the three of us—Grandma, Mom and me. I totally get why Grandma doesn’t want another man. But I think Mom doesn’t want one because she’s afraid she’ll become my grandma, and I’ll become her. Which is why I’m surprised that you’re here. She doesn’t date firefighters. Or policemen. Or anyone with a dangerous job. For the most part, she doesn’t even date at all.”
“I’m confused,” I say. “Exactly what was the advice?”
“Not to give up on her.”
“And how exactly do I go about doing that?”
“I’m twelve,” she says. “I don’t know. Tell her she’s pretty. Send her flowers. Do whatever guys do to woo girls.”
“Woo?” I say with a raised brow.
“Whatevs. You’re the one for her, so you should try really hard to be her boyfriend.”
“You only think that because I stopped to talk to you.”
“Or maybe you stopped to talk to me because you’re the one.”
This twelve-year-old is messing with my head. “Evie, it was really nice talking with you. I hope to see you again sometime.” I stand.
“Me too. And Leo. That kid is gorgeous,” she says.
“He is. All the ladies like him.”
“All?” Evie asks, looking worried.
“From afar,” I add. “They like him from afar.”
“Okay. Good. Because I don’t think you should date anyone else.”
“If you ask your mom, I’m not even dating her.”
“Like I said, she doesn’t know what she wants.”
I open the door, but before I can make my escape, I see movement at the top of the stairs. My heart sinks, thinking Emma has caught me talking with her daughter. Surely there will be repercussions. But when I look closely, it’s not Emma but an older version of her.
The woman smiles at me and nods.
I give her a wave. Then I wink at Evie and walk through the door.
Chapter Twenty
Emma
I bake when I’m happy. I bake when I’m sad. I bake when I’m stressed out.
I’m trying to figure out which of those I am at the moment.
I look in the pantry. Damn. I’m out of flour.
“Ready?” Evelyn asks from behind me.
I pick up the lunch I packed for her. “Yup. Just give me a second to write down my grocery list, so I can make a stop on the way back.”
She sees the mixing bowls and measuring spoons on the counter. “What are you baking today?”
“I thought I’d make your favorite.”
“Peanut butter chocolate chip cookies?” she asks with a smile. “Will you save me some batter?”
“You know I don’t like you eating the batter.”
“I’m twelve years old, Mom. I’ve been sneaking batter for how many years, and I’ve never gotten sick?”
“Fine. One spoonful.”
She hugs me from behind. “You’re the best.”
As we leave the house, I try not to look across the street, but my eyes betray me and I can’t stop myself from glancing in that direction. I don’t see any activity at Brett’s. The curtains are still closed. Maybe he’s sleeping in. We did stay up late last night.
“Mom?”
“Yeah, sweetie?”
“I know I talk a lot about wanting to go to Germany to find my father. But just so you know, I wouldn’t be upset if I ever had a stepdad.”
I stop walking and look at her. “What brought this on?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m going to be a teenager soon. And Mrs. Garrison says teenagers need strong female and male role models in their lives.”
“Who’s Mrs. Garrison?”
“You know, Karoline’s mom.”
I start walking again so Evelyn doesn’t see how irritated I am.
“Well, Karoline’s mom needs to mind her own business. We’re doing just fine.”
She slips an arm around my elbow. “Even if we did find my father, he wouldn’t really be my dad. I don’t have any fantasies about you getting back together with him and us living happily ever after.”
“Then why do you want to find him?”
“General curiosity, I guess,” she says. “Do I have his nose? Is he left-handed? Is his second toe longer than his first? Things like that.”
We arrive at the building where her summer camp is located. I hand her the lunchbox. “You don’t have his nose, you have my nose. I’m pretty sure you already know that from the pictures you have of him. I don’t recall him being left-handed. And I’m pretty sure I never looked at his feet.”
“See? You don’t know much about him. All the more reason to find him.”
“You want to go all the way to Germany to find out if your father’s second toe is longer than his first?”
She rolls her eyes. “Among other things.”
I brush her long hair behind her ear. “Evelyn, I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed. If he wanted to be in our lives, he would be. He knows exactly where we are. I’ve lived in our house my entire life.”
“I know. I just wish you’d think about it,” she says.
“Sweetheart, I don’t fly.”
She’s disappointed. I hate when she looks like that. “There’s a first time for everything, right?”
I nudge her toward the door. “You’d better get going.”
She turns around and gives me a kiss before going in. “Love you, Mom.”
“Love you back,” I say.
On the walk home, I think of how many times she’s asked to find her father. Even if I could get on a plane, I’m not sure I would. So far I’ve been able to protect her from everything bad. Evelyn has had an ideal childhood. Right now, Stefan is just a fictional character in her head, someone who she might even believe will see her and instantly fall in love with her, like I did on the day she was born. It’s not going to happen.
I stop by the store down the street from my house and pull out my shopping list. I don’t need a basket, I can carry it all in my hands. I’m lining up at the register when someone barrels around a corner and smashes into me, breaking open the bag of flour. It explodes into the air and all over me.
“Why don’t you watch where you’re going?” the woman says, brushing off what little flour landed on her arm.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, even though the collision wasn’t my fault.
I look up, surprised to see who it is. Brett’s ex-wife. And she’s carrying a stuffed animal and a big bag of M&M’s.
“Oh, it’s you,” she says. “I hoped I’d seen the last of you and your pathetic display last night.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, inching toward the register as I brush flour off my shirt and jeans.
“Let me get you another bag,” the proprietor says and takes the busted one, leaving Amanda and me together at the checkout counter.
I look at what she’s holding. “You’re going to see Leo, I presume?”
“I said I would, didn’t I?”
“M&M’s are a choking hazard for two-year-olds,” I say.
“Who are you, Mary Poppins?”
“Here you go, ma’am,” the man says, putting a new bag of flour on the counter before he rings up my purchase.
“Thank you.” I pick up the bag. “Enjoy your visit, Amanda.”
“Oh, I plan to.”
As the guy behind the counter rings her up, I notice what I didn’t before. That she’s wearing a short skirt and a tight blouse. Not exactly clothing for playing with a toddler. I wonder if she’s got an ulterior motive. She was clearly jealous last night. Brett and I did put on an impressive display. But she left him. I get it, though. She might not want him, but she doesn’t want anyone else to have him either.
I take in her sleek blonde hair, long legs, and impressive cleavage. Yes, I get it all too well.
I hurry down the street, hoping to avoid any more confrontations with the ex-Mrs. Cash.
“Where do you think you’re going?” she says behind me, the clacking of her high-heeled shoes echoing off the sidewalk.
“Home,” I say without stopping.
“You live with Brett?” she asks. “Are you kidding me?”
I stop and turn around. “You’re a pretty poor excuse for a mother if you don’t even know who’s living in the same house as your son.”
“How dare you,” she says. “You don’t know anything about me.”
She’s right. I don’t know anything about her. Or Brett either.
I wait at the corner. She eyes me suspiciously until the light changes and I make my way to the other side of the street. At my place, I glance back to see her still watching me. I give her a curt wave before ducking inside.
I’d love to know what she’s thinking at this very moment. Is she relieved that Brett isn’t living with another woman, or pissed that I live right across the street?
I drop my bag of groceries on the kitchen counter and then go into Evelyn’s room, hiding behind her curtain as I peek out. I watch Amanda climb the steps of Brett’s townhouse. Her old townhouse. She tries the knob but the door is locked. She pulls out a set of keys and tries to open it. I laugh out loud when I see her stomp her high heel on the ground like a kid throwing a tantrum. Her key doesn’t work. Score one for Brett for changing the locks.
“What are you doing?” my mother asks. “And what’s so funny?”
I turn around in surprise. “I thought you’d be gone by now.”
“I’m running a little late this morning. What’s so interesting outside?”
“Nothing,” I say, dropping the curtain. “I thought I saw someone I knew.”
She looks at me like she knows I’m full of shit. “Oh, yes,” she says. “I can see how that would be funny.” She slings her purse over her shoulder. “I’ll see you tonight.”
“Bye, Mom,” I say, heading back to the kitchen.
As soon as she’s out the door, I race up to my room to stare out the window again. Amanda is already inside. I gaze in each of his windows. I know one of the upstairs windows is Leo’s. I surmise the other is Leo’s nanny’s room, as I’ve never seen Brett look out of that one. And the large window to the right of the front door must be the living room. I can’t see inside it very well, but I’ve seen flashes of light from a TV over the past few days.
I try to ignore the fact that I’m approaching creepy-stalker territory here.
To prove that I don’t care about what’s happening across the street, I busy myself making cookies for Evelyn for the next few hours. Then I grade some online papers. After lunch, despite my efforts to keep my mind occupied, the urge to look overpowers my sense of decency and I return to the upstairs window.
Looking over at Brett’s, I’m not sure what I expected to see, but it wasn’t this.
Amanda is holding Leo in full view of his window. It looks like he’s fallen asleep on her shoulder. I don’t miss the fact that she’s standing right there, looking out as if taunting me.
I know she can’t see me, but I hide even more, watching only through a small slit between my curtain and the window frame. She stands there for a few more minutes before walking out of view. Then Brett appears at the window. He’s there. I wasn’t sure he would be. But it makes sense, it’s his day off. That he’s there, with her, as a family, doesn’t sit well with me, and I feel something I haven’t felt in my entire life. Pure unadulterated jealousy.
I think maybe Brett is looking for me, too. I’ve caught him doing it before. Just as I know he’s caught me. Suddenly, hands cover Brett’s eyes from behind. He turns around and bumps into Amanda, who pulls him into a kiss.
My heart sinks. She’s kissing him?
But it’s not exactly her kissing him that saddens me. It’s that he’s not pulling away.
I hang my head and go over to my bed, landing on my mattress with a thump.
He hates her. How could he have kissed her? Especially after last night.
Then again, she’s Leo’s mother. If she wants to give it another go with Brett, maybe he’s thinking of his son and what’s best for him.
Sometimes I wonder what I would do if Stefan showed up on my doorstep. What if he said he was sorry? That he’d been young and immature, and now that he’s older, he wants another chance. Would I do that for Evelyn?
I pick up the pillow Brett dozed off on last night. I pull it close and hug it. Never before have I wanted something so passionately, yet at the same time, not wanted it with the exact same passion and fervor.
Chapter Twenty-one
Brett
Bass nudges me across the bar, pulling my attention away from the baseball game on the TV. “Hey, isn’t that what’s-her-name who bakes like an angel?”
I look over to where he nodded and see Emma sitting at a corner table with several other women and one man. I smile. We come here a lot to watch baseball games. I wonder how often she comes here with her friends. Maybe we’ve been here at the same time in the past and never knew it. Like how we’ve lived across the street from each other for years, yet we had to be held at gunpoint to meet.
“Emma,” I tell him. “Yeah, that’s her.”
“You ask her out yet?” Denver asks.
“She doesn’t date firefighters.”
I don’t tell them we’ve slept together. Twice. But we’re not dating. I have no idea what we’re doing. Other than having great sex.
“She get burned by one?” Justin asks, chuckling. “Get it? Burned by one.” He laughs a little too hard at his own joke, and the three of us throw the limes from our beers at him.
“No. That’s not it.”
One of Emma’s friends catches me staring and elbows her, nodding in my direction. She looks shocked to see me here. Not surprised. Not happy. Shocked. She barely acknowledges me before returning to her conversation.
“Wow,” Justin says, shivering. “I can feel the chill all the way over here. She totally just froze you out.”
I put down my beer and make my way to her table. “Hi,” I say to her. “Emma, right?”
“Yeah. Brent, was it?”
“Brett,” I say with a smirk.
I notice a familiar face and hold out my hand. “Becca, I presume?”
She shakes my hand. “It’s nice to meet you. Especially under better circumstances.”
The man sitting next to her stands up and reaches across the table to shake my hand. “Jordan Kincaid,” he says. “I owe you a huge debt of gratitude for saving my fiancée.”
“Just doing my job.”
“Can I buy you a drink?” Jordan asks. “It’s the least I can do.”
“I’m all set, but thanks for the offer. Emma, can I talk to you for a second?” I motion to the hallway by the bathrooms.
The waitress comes over with their food.
“Sorry,” Emma says. “Our food is here, and I’m starving. Maybe some other time.”
Jeez, Justin was right. She’s giving me the cold shoulder. Maybe she doesn’t want her friends to know we’ve seen each other. But why? “I guess I’ll see you around then.”
I overhear some of her friends scolding her as I return t
o the bar.
“Didn’t go so well, huh?” Denver asks, handing me a fresh beer.
“I don’t get it. She acted like we hadn’t spent time together walking to the school.” Not to mention the time we spent in her bed.
“Maybe that’s her boyfriend,” Bass says.
“It’s not. He’s engaged to one of the other women at the table.”
“Forget her, man,” Justin says. “Let’s just watch the rest of the game.”
I can’t forget her. And I can’t help looking her way every chance I get. She doesn’t glance back, however. Not one single time.
~ ~ ~
I can’t fall asleep. I roll over and look at the clock. It’s eleven-thirty. I still don’t get it. Why did Emma treat me like that at the restaurant?
I get out of bed and go to the dark living room. Looking out the window, I see a dim glow coming from Emma’s room that tells me she hasn’t gone to sleep yet. I get out my phone and text her for the first time.
Me: Emma, this is Brett. Can we talk?
Emma: I wasn’t aware I’d given you my number.
No hello. No apology for blowing me off. What the hell did I do to her?
Me: I may have called myself from your phone when you excused yourself to use the bathroom at dinner last night.
Emma: How resourceful.
Me: Did I do something wrong?
Emma: Maybe you should ask your wife.
Amanda? What does she have to do with this?
Me: Ex-wife. And what does Amanda have to do with this?
Emma: I’m tired. I’m going to bed.
Me: Can you just talk to me? Come to the window please. I’m downstairs.
Emma: I’ve done enough looking out of windows lately. Goodbye, Brett.
Me: Emma, come on. What’s the problem?
Engulfing Emma (The Men on Fire Series) Page 13
