Page 51 of Royal Icing
“And they let you live? My mom would’ve drowned me in the Hudson.”
“What’s the Hudson?”
“A river.”
“Oh. Well, no. I was grounded for like a year, but they didn’t really enforce it. They didn’t do a lot of…parenting.”
Emma grunted and snuggled back into him. “Oh, sorry. I was probably supposed to be shocked. That sounds like a hard way to grow up.”
“It wasn’t always easy. We’ve always kind of been accessories. Meant to be seen and not heard, perform for the crowd, that kind of thing. They didn’t play with us. They rarely laughed with us.”
Why was he blabbering about his childhood? He was a straight white male who’d grown up in a castle. He had all the privilege in the world.
“Did you feel loved? Safe?” she asked.
He was silent for a long time.
“No. They loved me in their own way, I suppose. But it’s not the type of love I would give my own child.”
Her fingertips pressed into his chest. “You still want kids after all that?”
It had always been a part of the plan. Like Ruby, he had a soft spot for children. Sometimes he went to the local daycare facility and read books to the toddlers. They were so curious, silly, and wonderful.
“I do. Someday. Call it breaking a generational curse, I guess. What about you?”
Though he could explain this conversation away as simply trying to keep her talking and conscious, he was genuinely curious.
Not that it mattered if they were compatible. She lived in a different country and had dreams that had nothing to do with him or moving to a small European country. She was used to the big city.
Emma hesitated, and her body tensed against his. Shit. He had said the wrong thing.
“Yes. At least two. But I don’t know if I’ll ever be financially stable enough to support a family. And then there’s my mom to think about.”
“What would you and your mom be doing today if you were home? Another holiday activity?”
She stared into the crackling fire. “Tonight would’ve beenIt’s a Wonderful Life.”
Leo leaned up and fumbled with a remote on the arm of the couch. A TV mounted above the workbench flickered to life. Hescrolled through the channel guide—it had to be on somewhere. Finally, he found it and clicked.
Emma sighed happily, and her eyes closed. Should she be sleeping?
“Why is Christmas so important to you and your mom, anyway? Seems like a lot of fuss for a soulless corporate holiday.”
Her eyes popped open, and she frowned. “It’s just a special time of year for us.”
“Why?” he probed.
She averted her gaze and seemed to be thinking. “It wasn’t always. I grew up in an abusive household.”
The breath caught in his chest.
“My dad would drink and just turn into this evil, unrecognizable person. He would yell and beat my mom over the smallest things—dishes in the sink, a surprise visit from her aunt, burned dinner. We walked on eggshells around him for years. She bought me a CD player when I was five so I could drown out the yelling. I would hide in my closet with our dog and blast the Spice Girls. But I only ever listened with one ear. Even back then, I was terrified that he was going to kill her, and I needed to know when to run. I had a little backpack with peanut butter crackers and clean underwear ready to go.”
The words came slowly, like she had to dredge them up.
“Why didn’t she leave him?” Leo whispered.
“It was complicated. She loved him. And it wasn’t always bad. I still remember hearing him apologize, swear it would never happen again. Sometimes he would even give up drinking for a week or two. But he always went back to it. He pressured her to stop talking to everyone—her parents, her friends. He controlled the finances. We were alone, with nowhere to go. She didn’t leave him until he turned his hand on me.”
