Page 51 of There's No Us Without You
“Fine.” I snatch the dish from Emerson and plate up my vegetables before handing it back to him, all the while keeping my eyes on Will. “Happy?”
“Good girl.” Will dips his chin then takes a sip of his beer. Seconds pass between us before he sighs and places the bottle down in front of him. “The faster you learn we aren’t your ex, Eden, the sooner you’ll realise you don’t need to wait on us.”
Heat flushes my chest and face, my eyes now stinging. Am I that transparent? They must think I’m a total pushover.
Christ, I even needed Will to stand up for me today, just as I needed Emerson when picking up my things from Kent’s house earlier in the week.
“Hey.” Emerson places the dish back on the table and kneels next to me to rub small circles over my thigh. “Don’t cry. Will’s a dick, but you’ll get used to him.”
“Thanks for that,” Will says with a shake of his head. “I’m not the one who had a tantrum ten minutes ago over a beer.”
With a roll of his eyes, Emerson gives him the finger, his focus returning to me.
“I’m sorry,” I say, wiping my eyes. “All I seem to do lately is cry.”
“Don’t apologise for the way you feel. Your situation is kinda fucked up.” Emerson winces. “Sorry.”
I shake my head and laugh. “Gee thanks, Em.”
“What can I say? Just keeping it real. And it made you laugh, didn’t it?” With a squeeze of my thigh, he stands, making me crane my neck to look at him.
“Thanks.” I give him a little shove, my fingertips connecting with his hard stomach.
“I’ve got you.” He winks before kissing the top of my head. “Now eat your damn dinner.”
The boys settle into easy conversation as we eat, Emerson discussing training while Will mentions something about Tyler and messages. I’d ask who he’s referring to, but I’m struggling to wrap my head around everything that’s going on.
It’s really shitty the way I’m using Emerson. He’s kind and thoughtful—everything I’m not.
Would Cooper give me my money back if I changed my mind?
I’m just shoving food into my mouth, the deliciousness of my efforts not even registering on my tastebuds.
It’s not until the conversation goes quiet, I realise one of the boys asked me a question.
I glance between them, wiping my mouth with a napkin. “Sorry, what?”
“I asked where you learnt to cook?” Emerson says. “You’re good. Like really fucking good.”
“Oh... thanks.” My words come out a little choked, so I clear my throat before continuing. “Well, my dad taught me.” I glance down at my hands gripping the napkin in my lap. “He was much better than me.”
Emerson frowns. “Was?”
I nod. “He died a few years ago.”
“Shit. I’m so sorry.” He swallows hard and glances quickly at Will, who’s just staring at me, jaw clenched.
I lick my dry lips and shrug. “It was about five years ago,” I say. “After he died, my nan sort of took over. Wait until you taste her brownies.” I sayherbrownies because that’s what they are to me. Hers and hers only. No-one else’s even come close.
“Well . . .” Emerson reaches under the table to squeeze my thigh. “Your nan must be proud of you.”
“She’s dead, too,” I say, dropping my eyes to the table in front of me, the food on my plate now likely cold.
“Fucking hell.” Emerson rubs his forehead, frowning. “I’m fucking this all up.”
“It’s fine.” I shrug. “You weren’t to know.”
“Well, if you ever open your own restaurant, I’ll be your first customer.”
