Page 46 of Spit Screen

“I’ll see you in a couple of weeks,” Emma says.

I sigh. “I’m pathetic.”

“No. I hate being apart from you and the kids.”

“I know.”

“But think about the welcome you’ll get in two weeks,” she says.

“Maybe I should see if your mom will come with us to Connecticut,” I say.

“Why?”

“I could meet you in your trailer.”

Emma shakes her head affectionately. “Hoping to slip in between scenes?”

I bite my lip to keep from laughing.

“Addison!”

“You said it, not me.”

“You are such a teenage boy sometimes.”

“Em, I think when it comes to you, most people’s inner teenage boy comes out.”

Emma laughs. “You’re in love.”

“Completely. I’ll miss you, Em.”

“I’ll miss you, too. I’ll call you when I get there.”

“Emma?”

Emma holds a finger up to tell her dad to give her a minute. She steps into my arms and kisses me soundly. “Thank you,” she says.

“Why are you thanking me?”

“I think you know. For giving me so many of thebestdays of my life.”

Emma’s words bring a smile to my lips. I kiss her goodbye and open her car door.

“See you soon,” she says.

I close the door when she slips into her seat, step back, and wave as her dad pulls out of our driveway. Two weeks?

THE NEXT WEEK

Vicki’s forehead wrinkles as she focuses on the baking tray. I join her at the counter, examining the burnt lumps of what should have been cookies. “How come your mom’s cookies always turn out perfect?” I ask, trying not to sound defeated.

Vicki lets out a sigh and shrugs. “I think you left them in too long.”

“But the recipe said ten minutes!” I protest.

She shakes her head. “I dunno. Maybe we should buy some instead.”

My heart sinks at the thought. “No way. I promised to make cookies for the bake sale on the last day of school.”

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