Emmy & Oliver - Robin Benway Page 0,57
text you yet? What did I miss?”
“Had a great night,” Kevin reported. “I told her it was meh.”
“Six out of a possible score of ten,” Drew agreed. He nudged Kevin’s hip with his own. “How long is your break?”
Kevin just smiled and took Drew’s hand in his own. I couldn’t help but watch as Drew laced his fingers between Kevin’s and pulled him a little closer.
I knew my cue to leave.
“Well, thanks for the drinks,” I said, standing up and gathering my phone. “I’m gonna go, though.”
“No, stay!” Drew said.
“There’s scones,” Kevin added. “The blueberry ones, not the gross currant ones.”
“Ugh, currants.” Drew shuddered.
“I don’t even know why we sell them,” Kevin admitted.
“Bye,” I said pointedly, then stood on my tiptoes to kiss Drew’s cheek. “See you on Monday. Use protection.”
“I assume you mean an apron,” he muttered in my ear, but kissed me back. “Be safe walking. Don’t take any rides from strange men.”
“I’ll keep it in mind,” I said, then stole his sunglasses off his head and took a sip of my drink as I headed out. He and Kevin were already halfway out the back door, tripping over each other’s feet and giggling.
I checked my phone. Nothing.
Time to head home.
I was halfway there, waiting for the light to change at the intersection, when Maureen’s SUV suddenly pulled up next to me. Rick was at the wheel and Maureen was talking to someone in the backseat, motioning with her hand about something. The windows were tinted, but I could make out the outline of the twins’ car seats in the middle seats, and farther back, the tousle of Oliver’s hair.
My breath caught before I could stop it.
“Oh, hi!” Maureen said, her voice muffled by the window. Open it, open it, I could see her mouthing to Rick, who dutifully did just that. “Hi, Emmy! What are you doing out here?”
Protest noises started to come from the backseat, and then Rick rolled down those windows, as well. “Hi!” the twins yelled. “We went mini golfing!”
“I hit the windmill!”
“I drank lemonade and threw up!”
“Cool,” I said, desperately trying to get a glimpse of Oliver without being desperate about it. (Way easier said than done.)
He leaned forward when he heard my voice, just so I could see half his face in the window, the other half still stuck in the backseat. “Hey,” he said.
“Hi,” I said, and before I could figure out what else to say, Maureen interrupted us.
“We’re heading home now! C’mon, we’ll give you a ride! Open the doors, Rick, let her in.”
“Careful in the backseat,” Rick said as I started to climb in. “There’s some random golf balls rolling around back there.”
“Thanks,” I said, trying to climb over the twins without actually touching them, since I wasn’t sure which one had been sick, and also without tripping over myself in front of Oliver.
“There’s room next to Oliver,” Maureen said, directing me from the front seat.
“I think she’s got it, hon,” Rick said.
“Well, I’m just making sure.” Maureen threw me a grin in the rearview mirror. “Enough room back there?”
I fell into the seat next to Oliver, squeezed in by bags of supplies: extra clothes, snacks, books, and tiny pink shoes. He looked like a giant next to all of it, but when I sat down, he smiled at me and grabbed my hand, squeezing so tight that all I could do was squeeze back just as hard.
“Hi,” was all he said.
“Hey,” I replied. Our voices were cool, like we said hello to each other all the time, like we weren’t holding hands in the backseat of his mom’s car, hanging on for our dear lives. “Did you get a hole in one?”
“I got a hole in one!” Nora screamed, trying to turn around in her car seat despite the harness, and I casually threw my bag over Oliver’s and my hands before she could see. Oliver laughed, then hid it with a cough.
“You okay, sweetie?” Maureen asked from the front. “There’s water in the cooler if—”
“I’m fine, Mom,” Oliver said.
“I got a hole in one, Emmy!” Nora finally settled for just craning her neck around at a terrible-looking angle. “It went in!”
“Awesome!” I told her. “Did you get a sticker?”
“Yeah, but it’s on my shoe.”
“Of course it is.”
Oliver’s grip on my hand hadn’t let go and I knocked my knee against his, raising my eyebrow in that subtle, universal gesture that means, “You okay?” He just nodded, so I let it go.
“Did you get my text?” I asked