am curious about why you think you’re into someone you’ve never met when you’re so clearly into someone else. Like, why invite Emma to Sunday supper if you’re crushing on your internet girlfriend? You had to have known seeing Emma interact with us would only make you want her more.”
I sigh. Again.
And feel like a douche canoe. Again.
“You’re not wrong. It’s a long story, one that I’m not exactly at liberty to share, but I thought inviting her was the right thing to do. I figured, hey, I can be the good guy for once, and she can hang with the family and get to know everyone a little better. Kill two birds with one stone kinda thing.”
“So you don’t think Emma is out to steal your job anymore?”
“Honestly?” I run a hand over my face. “After working with her this week, I don’t think I do. She’s wonderful, Milly, like, really fucking amazing at what she does—and she’s been nothing but a team player. But it’s still hard to let go of that grudge, you know? That knee-jerk reaction I have not to trust a damn soul after Olly.”
Milly claps her palms against her thighs. “Well, Olly was a dude. A straight dude. Which meant he didn’t look at you the way Emma does.”
I’m holding the wheel in a death grip. “What does that mean?”
“I mean Emma’s into you, Samuel. She watched you the whole time back at Beau’s. And you watched her. You try to hide it, but both y’all have that look in your eyes—the look of love.”
“Shut up.” I wave her away. “Now you’re just teasing me.”
“I’m not. She’s into you, but she’s also into who you are and what you have to say. She respects your opinion. She’s hungry for it—that sense of certainty you have. And you’re hungry for her ballsiness, as you so eloquently put it.”
“The ballsy thing is hot.”
“Hell yeah, it is. You know how much I admire a woman who knows what she wants and goes after it the way Emma does. This is just me talking, but I don’t think she’s gonna stab you in the back. I think, if anything, she has your back. How many times are you gonna make her prove it?”
I slump onto the bench, feeling suddenly deflated. “How fucked up does this sound? But what if I’m making her prove it as many times as it takes for her to show me I’m right? Because I want her, and I can’t have her, and the only thing that will get that memo through my thick skull is if she betrays me the way Olly did?”
Milly’s gaze softens. “Betrays you the way Daddy did by dying too young, you mean?”
I haven’t felt the burn of tears in…Christ, it’s gotta be a decade. More than that.
Now that I think about it, I haven’t cried since the day we buried him.
The sensation startles me. I blink hard and turn my head to look out my window. My throat tightens at the same time my grip on my self-control loosens.
How the hell did we go from talking about internet sex to our dad dying? My life—conversations, emotions, desires—is giving me insane whiplash lately.
“Hey.” Milly rubs my back. “It’s okay if you’re not over it. I’m not sure any of us will ever get over losing him the way we did. But you and Daddy—y’all were really close. I knew from the second we found out Daddy was sick that losing him would be hardest on you.”
It has been hard. Really fucking hard.
Even harder to pretend I’m okay when deep down, I know I’m not.
I remember what Emma said back at Beau’s—that I’m braver than I think. What did she mean by that? That I’m brave enough to do what? Face the facts?
Brave enough to be honest with myself about how much losing the man I loved hurts? And how he was the last person who knew the real me because I’ve been too scared to let anyone in since?
“But how?” I manage. “How do I let it hurt without drowning in the pain?”
“I wish I could answer that for you. I think you start with the idea that acknowledging the truth welcomes awful, awful pain. But it can also welcome an incredible kind of love too. The kind maybe you’re looking for with your internet lover. Or Emma. Or both.”
“And if Emma isn’t looking for that? Not with me, anyway. She says she wants to keep things professional.”