Page 76 of Pretty Lethal
Emilia nods solemnly.
Crouching down beside her, I gently cup her chin and turn her head to face me. “You know we’re nothing like your father, right?”
Her eyes widen. “Of course I do,” she states vehemently.
“Then with time, your mother will come to realize that too, and if she can’t see past her own insecurities, that’s her loss.”
Emilia stares into my eyes for a minute before nodding, and I stroke my thumb across her cheek before letting her go.
“Your mom obviously cares about you, or she wouldn’t be so concerned and flying all this way to make sure you’re okay,” Hawk says softly. “Perhaps when we explain everything that’s happened these last few months she will understand.”
Emilia’s lips pinch together, not quite believing in Hawk’s optimism, but she sighs and agrees anyway. “Yeah, I guess. Maybe it won’t be such a big deal.”
Yeah, let’s hope so.
* * *
Using my shoulder,I push open the front door, and with my arms laden with grocery bags, I stomp down the hallway toward the kitchen. Despite the heavy loads weighing me down, I pause in the doorway, unable to help the smile that plays at my lips as I watch Emilia dance around the kitchen with her gold Marigold gloves on and a cleaning cloth in her hand, singing.
Her singing is just as bad as when I heard it the first time, all those months ago in her apartment in Springview, but seeing her so carefree as she prances around in sweats and a vest top with her hair piled on the top of her head fills me with so much pride.
I did that.
Wedid that.
Because I know our love for Emilia has been like water to her. A vital nutrient that has enabled her to flourish and bloom. She’s been knocked down and bruised, as we all have, but watching her now as she tilts her face up to the stream of sunlight pouring through the kitchen window, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her look so alive.
Despite everything that’s happened to her recently, she still manages to find beauty in the small moments. Peace in the everyday.
“You’re a sight to behold.” The strain in my voice gives away how affected I am by her. By her strength. Her beauty. Her optimism. There is no part of her that doesn’t awe me on a daily basis.
Turning her head slightly, her grin brightens, taking over her entire face when she spots me standing there.
Slowly, she turns to face me. “Speak for yourself, Mister G.I. Joe, standing there with his muscles on display and carrying like a kazillion bags at once.”
Snorting out a laugh, I place the grocery bags on the island and begin unloading them. “I got food to make a nice meal for your mom tonight,” I tell her.
“Assuming everything doesn’t get blown out of the water before then,” she grumbles in response.
I arch a brow at her. “Where’s that positive attitude we talked about?”
She shrugs a shoulder, fighting a cheeky grin. “I dunno. Maybe it needs a kiss to help it come out.”
I can’t help laughing at her ridiculousness, but who am I to pass up an opportunity to feel her lips on mine, to wrap my arms around her and relish in the warmth of her skin.
Grocery bags forgotten, I reach out a hand and once my fingers have wrapped around hers, I tug her in against me. She crashes into my chest with a satisfying oomph, staring up at me with doe-eyes that undo me every time I see them.
I find Emilia especially beautiful like this—stripped bare of makeup, hair pulled back from her face, and wearing house clothes. Natural. Homely. Entirely her. A version of herself that only a select few get to see, and I’m honored to be one of them.
My lips slant over hers, all intentions of a quick kiss disassembled when her tongue glides over mine and she moans into my mouth.
God, this girl.
After caving to her for a few minutes, I reluctantly pull back.
“I have something for you.”
“Oh,” she says in surprise. “What is it?”
