Page 82 of Stay With Me

I walk them to the mudroom and Emily slips on her flip-flops as Shayna opens the door and steps onto the porch. I catch myself and pull back just as I lean toward Emily to kiss her goodbye.

Shit. We really need to talk to Trina before we mess up in front of someone else. She has to hear this from us first.

“Bye.” Emily smiles as she gives me a quick wave and follows Shayna to the porch, pulling the front door closed behind her.

About twenty seconds later, Emily comes flying back into the house and hurls herself at me. I wrap my arms around her as she stands on her tiptoes and plants a kiss on my lips. “I told her I needed to get something from the house. And it’s not a lie ’cause I needed to get a goodbye kiss. Bye again!” As fast as she flew back into the house, she’s out of it again.

I stand there for a few seconds after she’s gone, smiling like a fool. Like a fool in love.

* * *

It’sthree p.m. and the cake and beverages are here, I’ve confirmed with the caterer that they’ll arrive at four-thirty, and I’ve got Emily’s present in place—though, that was more difficult than I expected. Hell, I’m even showered and dressed for the party already.

I’m feeling pretty good about the day—about life. I grab a cold beer from the refrigerator and walk out to the back deck.

The weather couldn’t be better for Emily’s party. Warm, but not too hot or humid. I walk over to the deck railing and rest my forearms on it, then I lean over and survey the yard.

In the month Emily’s been here, she’s certainly made her mark. Her garden is bountiful with bright red tomatoes, orange and red peppers, and a shit ton of herbs. And those sunflowers, they’re taller than her and she smiles so brightly whenever she sees them. Every week she makes me take a photo of her standing next to them so she can track their growth in pictures.

After our spat last week that led to the type of make-up sex most men can only dream of, Emily and I decided to delay any more discussions about her looking for a house for now. At least until we talk to Trina and see what her reaction is. Personally, I never want her to leave. It’s like we have our own little haven in the woods.

The clicking of the kitchen door grabs my attention and when I turn to look, I lose all power of speech. Emily stands before me, rubbing her hands together, her pretty cheeks a rosy pink, and her bottom lip tugged between her teeth. She’s clearly nervous.

“So, I cut my hair,” she says, her voice hushed.

I set my beer on the railing and basically stalk toward her, though it’s not my intention. “I see that.” My voice is low and rough. I stop when I’m two feet in front of her. “Holy hell,” I whisper.

She’s probably had a solid twelve inches taken from her hair and it’s now in a blunt cut with waves falling just above her shoulders.

“D-do you hate it?” She looks up at me under thick lashes.

“What? Are you kidding me? Emily, I didn’t think you could get any more gorgeous, but I was so damn wrong.”

“You’re not just saying that? It’s a drastic change and it’s my birthday, so maybe you just don’t want to hurt my?—”

“Hey. I don’t lie to you, Em. Ever. You know that. I fuckingloveit. I do.”

A sweet smile spreads across her face. “I know you liked it long. But I wanted to try something different.”

“I have no question in my mind that I’d love your hair if it were two feet long or two inches long. It’s because it’s attached to you that I like it. For the last ten years I’ve thought you were the most beautiful woman in every room you’ve walked into and that will never change.”

She snorts like I’ve said something funny and rolls her eyes.

“Whoa, what’s that mean?” I search her face because I don’t understand her reaction.

“We both know I’m not your usual type. You’ve always liked taller women with much darker hair, and more womanly curves. I have the body of a pre-pubescent boy compared to the women you’re usually with.”

My initial reaction is to be pissed at the way she’s talking about herself, but I try to remember all the shit she went through this last year. Finding out her new husband was having an affair within two months of getting married likely screwed with her self-confidence. I just wish she could see herself like I see her.

I back her up against the door, boxing her in against the glass with a hand on either side of her waist. Her huge blue eyes are wide and focused on mine.

“You still don’t get it, do you?” I tenderly move a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “For years, I’ve wanted you. But you weren’t mine. So, yeah, I was very intentional about what the women I spent time with looked like. It’s true they looked about as different from you as I could find.” Her gaze drops downward. “Look at me, please.” She hesitates but does as I ask. “I didn’t choose women who looked like that because it’s what I was attracted to. I chose them because they looked so different from you and that was the only way I stood any chance of not thinking of you constantly when I was with them.”

“O-oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’. So now you know. And as for your body, it’s fucking perfect. And any time you’re feeling insecure about that, you just tell me. Because I’ll remind you every day, every damn minute if I have to, just how perfect you are. Got it?”

“Yes,” she whispers. “I got it.”

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