Page 82 of Only for Love

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Emma

I’m really proud of all I’ve accomplished. My cuticles are messed to hell, my fingers scratched and dry. I’ve unpacked our clothes and Cally’s toys, decorated as much as I can without using a hammer to hang up pictures, and I am freakin’ exhausted. But… I look around. This house looks like a home. A real home, all mine.

Cally is asleep in her bed with every single stuffed animal that I unpacked. It’s almost impossible to find the kid buried in all the plush, but she’s there, softly breathing, with a smile on her face.

My phone rings, pulling me out of space. Grayson’s number lights the screen, and the first thing I’m going to do after we end this call is program his name. “Hey.”

“Hey, pretty mama.”

God, I love that.“How’d today go?”

He groans.

“That good, huh?”

“The job interview, that was fine.”

“That’s good.” A job. Stability. I can’t help but be nervous that it all might flit away.

“Some other stuff I had to deal with. Basically—” He blows out into the phone. “Ya know, Pops is a piece of shit.”

A lump surfaces in my throat. “Yeah. You talk to him?”

“Something like that—soyou’vetalked to him.”

I bite my bottom lip. Every interaction I had with his father was rough. “He wasn’t super conversational.”

“I bet. God, I hate that fucker.”

“So, why’d you go see him?”

“I don’t know.” His voice is strained.

“I’m sorry…” I want him to come over. I need him to. But I have work, and I don’t know the ground rules for what’s too much, what’s too needy. He could take a look at all the responsibility my life’s laden with and run his hot butt away. With the tightness in his words, I’m not sure what to say. “So…”

“You care if I call you later? I’ve got a shit ton on my mind.”

“Yeah, no. Of course.”

“Alright, Ems. Thanks for letting me figure this out.”

Whatever “this” is.“Sure.”

A quick goodbye, he’s gone, and I’m even lonelier. Doesn’t matter. My mom should be here in an hour, so I can head to the diner. I toss my phone onto the couch then go into the kitchen for a granola bar.

Working the night shift sucks, but for the first time, I’m struck by three thoughts. The first is about how Grayson—after he and Cally are more than adequately comfortable together—could be here when I have to head to work, so my family isn’t constantly helping me. Second—my cheeks heat, and my stomach somersaults—what if Cally and I were more like Cally,Grayson, and I? Like, a mommy and a daddy with their baby?

But my third thought quickly cools the others because Gray has no idea that I’ve been working like this. He’s going to feel awful, and I may never tell him about Emerald’s. Stripping allowed me to move out from my parents’ house, go to school, and save. I would work more nights there, but Bruno has a theory: I’ll make more money as a once-a-week special than an everyday treat. Compared to the other girls’ take, he’s right, and I refuse to regret the decision to dance, even if I don’t enjoy it.

There’s a quick knock and slide of a key, then the front door knob twists, and Mom walks in.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Hi, sweetie.”

We share a long moment, but there’s little time for a major mother-daughter powwow. Instead, I offer what’s in my hand. “Want a granola bar?”

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