Page 79 of Take Hold of Me

“I am sure you are exaggerating. How long has it been since you have seen them?”

I shrug. “I don’t remember. Christmas, I guess.”

“That was over eight months ago! I bet they will be happy to see you. Your mother said so.”

I exhale a long breath. “Whatever.”

“Wills, promise me you will give them a chance. For me.” She grabs my hand and raises it to her lips, dropping a kiss on the back of it. When I remain silent, she squeezes.

“Fine. I promise to give them a chance, for you. But at the first sign of aggression from FPU, we’re out of there.”

“You will be surprised, you will see.”

My gut tells me it’s she who will be surprised, but I keep my assessment to myself and continue driving. When we stop at a traffic light near my parents’ home, I say, “Okay, we’re almost there.” Ems adjusts her posture and becomes very interested in the passing scenery.

My family lives in a typical middle-class neighborhood. The houses are relatively close together and small. Nothing like the neighborhood she lives in, filled with gracious lots and mansions. As the disparity between Ems and me comes into sharp focus, my chest constricts.

“It is so lovely in here. Reminds me of where I grew up beforeMamanandPapamoved us to a flat in Paris proper.”

At a stop sign a block from my family home, I switch the blinker. Even though no one’s coming, I can’t bring myself to make the final turn.

“Is everything alright?”

Blankly, I look at the woman sitting next to me. “Huh?”

“We have been sitting here for a while. Even I could have made the turn.” She giggles.

I force a small smile. “Oh,” I say, clearing my throat. “Yeah. We’re almost there.” After turning, I take it slow past my old neighbors’ houses. Cars line the dead end road. Looks like my parents went all out.

Driving around, I find a spot across the street and a few houses down from the old homestead. When we’re parked, I look in her direction. She’s animated—her foot is tapping and fingers playing an imaginary tune on her arm. At least one of us is excited.

Before more animosity can fester, I unbuckle my seat belt. Stepping out of the Jeep, I go to Ems’s side and open her door. She reaches out and I take her hand in mine. As our skin touches, a prickle of electricity runs up my arm and she emits a low gasp. Not pausing to consider what this means, I tamp down my body’s reaction and help her out.

“Merci,” she says, while reaching back to retrieve the gift she brought. She adjusts her dress. “Do I look alright to meet your family?”

Two glaring problems with her last sentence hit me upside the head. “Ems, it is impossible for you to look just ‘alright.’” I don’t share the second issue—meeting my family should be their honor, not hers. I keep my lips shut, biting the inside of my cheek.

I slip on my blazer and pick up the anniversary gift she insisted I buy. What do you get the couple who is above everyone? Liquor.

I fiddle with the wrapping that the customer service rep did for me and realize I forgot to buy a card. “Fuck,” I mutter.

Looking around, Ems squeaks, “What is it? Are the paparazzi here?”

Another disparity between us bites me on my ass. Her life is reporters and red carpets. Mine is forgotten cards and dead ends.

I shake my head. “Believe me, you’re safe from them here. I forgot to pick up an anniversary card.”

She releases her breath. “Wait here.” She scurries back to the passenger side, opens the door and pulls something out of her big tote bag. I didn’t notice that she’s now carrying a little purse. “I was not sure.” She holds up an envelope. “I could not decide, so I bought two.”

“You have an extra anniversary card?”

She nods. “Oui.” She extends the card toward me.

I don’t deserve this woman, but I’m grateful for her save. Otherwise I would have written my name directly on the wrapping paper, surely earning some snarky comment from my father. Not that having a card will save me from one.

“Thanks.” I take the card and scribble my name.

She beams at me. “Which one is yours?” Emilie motions toward the row of houses.

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