Page 27 of Eternally Yours
Fishing for compliments, are we?
Big Guy
Always, if they come from you.
Me
So cocky.
Big Guy
You have no idea, baby.
“I like seeing you like this,” Emma says as she stands by my door. Apparently during my conversation with Silas, she had gotten up from the bed without me noticing.
“Like what?” I ask.
“Happy, like you’ve found the missing piece to a puzzle you didn’t even know you were building.” She gazes at me in awe.
Emma has always been one of the strongest people I know. She’s not one to show her true feelings easily, but when she does, it’s explosive. She feels it down to her very core. Like when she found out about my parents, she was devastated, and for a week straight, every time she looked my way, I could see the water well up in her eyes.
And when my grandmother died during our sophomore year, Emma bawled her eyes out, falling into a depression that lasted way over a month. Not for my grandma; Emma had only known her for two years, but for me. She was heartbroken for me.
So, I understand what she’s saying. Ever since I lost the rest of my family four years ago, I’ve been forcing my way to happiness but never truly feeling it. That is until now. And I can tell by the look in her eyes that I was never fooling her with my bright smiles over the years. Because at this moment, her emotions are surfacing.
She turns around abruptly and clears her throat. “Come on, let’s make breakfast. I’m dying for pancakes.”
“Let me guess, I need to make them?” I raise my voice as she starts walking down the hall, toward the kitchen.
“You know it!” she yells back.
I rise from the bed and exit my room, shaking my head with a chuckle.
Several hours later, my phone vibrates with a new text from Silas while Emma and I are in the middle of our Sunday ritual: face masks, wine, and movies. We’ve been messaging on and off all day, and it’s been nice.
Big Guy
What are you doing?
Me
Sunday rituals.
I stretch out my arm to the side and snap a picture. In it, you can see me in a cute, tiny pajama set identical to Emma’s, who’s seated right next to me. Both of us sit cross-legged on the couch with face masks on and our hair in a bun, wine glasses in hand.
On the right side of the picture, you can see just the beginning of the TV that’s playing one of our classics,Breakfast at Tiffany’s. The picture isn’t really sexy, but that wasn’t the point of it, either. Satisfied with the image, I send it off to Silas.
Big Guy
Damn, and I wasn’t invited?
Me
Girls only. Sorry, Hun.
Me
What about you?
