Page 17 of Dirty Little Secrets
“You make it seem like it’s a bad thing.” Tom reaches over the center console and takes my hand in his. “What’s gotten into you, Em?”
I wish I knew. I wish I had a morsel of a clue as to why I’m being so combative with Tom. Sweet, reliable, and dependable Tom.Oh, you know.No! No, I don’t. Tom possesses all the qualities the majority of women would kill to find in a man. He’s good with kids, he’s polite to service staff, and he’s financially stable.Boring. Boring. Boring.No, it’s not boring. Safe isn’t boring.Yawn. Stop it! Tom is great, and the fact that he knows me and loves me is great.Tom doesn’t know shit.Enough! This is stupid. Why am I overthinking? Everything is fine. This is my life. And I like it.
I. Like. It.
“Do you, umm…” This is my choice. I get to decide how I feel. Me. “Do you want to come upstairs?” I glance nervously at Tom as he pulls up to my apartment complex. “Maybe spend the night?”
Tom checks the time on the dashboard. “It’s pretty late, Em. You sure you want to?—”
“I’m sure,” I reply quickly, getting out of the car. “Come on. It’ll be fun.”
“Alright,” Tom agrees lethargically, climbing out of the car and locking it behind him. He trails behind as I unlock the front door. “Maybe we can finish the documentary on the Sahara?”
“Sure,” I say, entering the hallway.A desert, huh? How fitting.Hush. “Or…” I spin around, dropping my chin down a degree and giving Tom my foolproof Luna stare. “Maybe we could…” I shrug, hoping he can read me as well as he thinks he can. “Do something else?”
Before Tom has a chance to reply, Mrs. Finnegan’s door flings open and she pokes her cockblocking head out. “Emery! I thought that was you!” She gives Tom a wide grin. “Thomas! What a lovely surprise! I haven’t seen you around in ages.”
“What are you still doing up, Mrs. Finnegan?” Tom playfully scolds my neighbor. “Isn’t it past your bedtime?”
Mrs. Finnegan giggles. “Oh now, stop that. I know I’m an old lady, Thomas, but a quarter past nine is hardly late.” She stifles a yawn, and Tom perks up a brow. “Alright, it’s a bit late for me but Artie just fell asleep. He’s got sleep apnea and that dreadful machineis so stinking loud, I’m lucky if I get five hours of sleep a night.” She sighs, glancing between the two of us. “Anywho, what did you kids get up to tonight? Something exciting, I hope.”
That’s your future. Behind those doors. That’s exactly what you should expect.
Shut. Up.
“Dinner with Emery’s parents,” Tom says. “Her mom made her famous chicken casserole. I don’t know exactly what she puts into it, but it’s incredible. I think it’s cumin, but she refuses to divulge the secret family recipe.”
Mrs. Finnegan chuckles. “Maybe she’ll be more forthcoming once youarepart of the family,” she says, not at all trying to hide her insinuation.
“We can only hope,” Tom says, patting Mrs. Finnegan on the shoulder. “Have a good night, okay? Try and get some sleep.”
“Fingers crossed,” she says.
“Goodnight, Mrs. Finnegan,” I say, forcibly dragging Tom to my front door.
“Maybe we should invite her over to finish the documentary,” Tom muses as I unlock the door. “She looks lonely.”
“She isnotlonely, Tom. She has Artie,” I state, entering my apartment and tossing my keys to the side. “How can she be lonely when she’s with her husband? Are you saying that she’sunhappywith her husband?”
“Woah.” Tom throws his hand up in the air. “That’s not what I meant, Em. I’m just saying?—”
“Well, stop,” I snap. “I don’t think it’s very polite ofyou to make assumptions about other people when you don’t even know them. You met Mrs. Finnegan, what? Seven times? And suddenly you’re an expert on her well-being?”
Tom runs a hand through his hair. “Jesus, Emery. Will you relax? Seriously, what’s gotten into you today? First, you snap at your mom at dinner and now this?” He tilts his head. “Did you take your meds today?”
“Seriously?” I scoff, crossing my arms. “Emery has an opinion, so she must’ve forgotten to take her meds. Nice, Tom. Thanks for that.”
“It’s a valid question.”
“Seriously?” I flap my arms, bewildered by his nerve. “And where exactly did you get your MD? The University of Overstepping Idiots?” I glower at him. “I takeantidepressants, Tom. Do I look depressed to you right now?”
Tom sighs. “No, Emery. You do not look depressed.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Listen, I don’t want to argue, okay? I-I think I should just go. It’s late, and we’ve got work tomorrow. So, I’ll just see you in the office, alright?”
“What are you going to do when we live together, Tom?” I ask flippantly. “Where are you going to go when we fight then?”
“We don’t fight, Em.” Tom’s voice softens as he strides toward me. He wraps his arms around my waist, kissing the side of my head. “Tonight was just…an anomaly.” He pulls back, gaze sweeping across my face, searching for the woman he’s certain he knows. “I’m sorry if I upset you, okay?” He gives the tip of my nose a quick peck. “Try and get some rest, Em. You’ll feel better tomorrow.”
I’ll feel better on Friday when no one fucking tells me how I feel.
