Confessions from the Quilting Circle - Maisey Yates Page 0,73
mother. She also couldn’t claim she was just a benevolent liar now.
At this point, she was simply a liar.
She saw Luke almost every night. And she always made up excuses. Picking up an extra shift, doing homework with Catherine. And her mom hadn’t pushed. Likely because she was waiting for Emma to say she was sorry, or was afraid they would have another big blowup.
Emma was exploiting that. She knew she was. But as long as her mom didn’t know what was happening, Emma could luxuriate in it.
She was going to Boston. She had accepted.
Luke was her boyfriend.
She could talk to him about anything. About everything. When they weren’t talking...there was a lot of kissing.
She had no practical experience with guys. No kissing, and she’d certainly never wanted to have sex with one before.
And she knew it was fast. Really fast.
But she wanted to. With him.
It felt big, but it was the distraction she needed from today. Her birthday.
Today hurt.
Her dad should be here, and he wasn’t. It felt wrong.
There was something about being with Luke that helped. At first it had been that crush, that secret that she had that she could hold close when the world felt hard. Now it was the beauty of something new. The healing of it.
Like renewing her heart. Layering something bright and brand-new over the old hurt. It didn’t make the pain go away.
It was like a multifaceted gem. If she held it a certain way, the light caught the right edge and it glowed. Making it all she could see. Ignoring the dark spots, for just a little bit.
Luke felt so special, so important.
And she didn’t care if some people would think it was too fast, or that she was too young. She didn’t. She was going to see him sometime tonight. But there was going to be a family dinner first, and now Emma was helping her aunt Anna take pies to J’s. She didn’t mind that—it put her in proximity to Luke. Although, it would be difficult to figure out what to do with her face if she saw him, and she was with Anna.
Not that she really needed to keep it a secret from Anna.
But she didn’t want to talk to anyone about it. She couldn’t quite articulate why, not even to herself.
She grabbed the pies out of the back of her aunt’s car and turned, looking toward the garage. She could see him through the window, and he lifted his head and his eyes met hers.
She felt color mounting in her face, and she knew that Anna could see. He knew that she was keeping him a secret, even though he didn’t love it. She had explained at length that had nothing to do with being embarrassed of him—she wasn’t. She was insanely proud of him.
She just didn’t want... She didn’t want to share him. She didn’t want to share these happy spots in her life with anyone. Because the minute that she let the rest of her life in... Well, everything else was sad and complicated. And this wasn’t.
“Are you looking at that boy?” Anna asked as she grabbed the second box out of the car.
“Maybe,” Emma said, turning away.
“He’s cute.”
“Yes,” Emma said.
Denying that Luke was cute would be more suspicious than just agreeing. She worked across the street, after all. And going to J’s was how she’d seen him in the first place. So it stood to reason that she could acknowledge his attractiveness.
“I can’t believe you’re eighteen,” Anna said.
“Why? Because I grew up so fast?”
Her aunt’s face did something funny. “No. Because you’re still a kid. I know you might not realize it. I know I didn’t when I was eighteen. I was getting married. Ugh. Thank God you’re not doing that.”
Given Emma’s recent thoughts about her feelings for Luke that felt pointed, even though her aunt didn’t intend for it to be.
Emma truly didn’t feel young. She felt tired.
But when she was with Luke it all felt so much brighter.
“I’m proud of you, Em,” Anna said, pulling her in for a one-armed side hug.
Then Anna turned and walked toward J’s and Emma trailed behind her.
Guilt twisted Emma’s stomach. She had never put a toe out of line, not in all her life, and now she was doing it. But she was doing it in a deceptive, quiet way. And she wondered if that was actually what her entire life was made of.
Pretending to be something she wasn’t. Pretending to be someone she wasn’t.