Page 72 of Owning Emma

Chapter 34

SHAW

I untangledmy limbs from their bodies and pulled myself from the bed. It was almost physically impossible to make myself part from them, but lying there, staring at the ceiling, hearing their steady breaths as they dreamed peacefully was only a reminder of how unsettled I was feeling.

When I walked into our home and saw that the holiday season had vomited all over my living room, my first reaction was to stop and turn away. But then my eyes fell upon Emma, her tiny body trying to block a massive tree as she stared in horror and the urge to turn dark dissipated. She was alive and thriving and all that messy tinsel and glass figurines, suddenly didn’t seem so bad.

In so many ways, Emma reminded me of my mother, so strong and too fucking caring. She had loved the holidays, always decorating for all occasions and making cookies to match. She would have loved having Emma around, that I knew for certain.

I picked up a silver ball from the box pushed under the tree, and put one on the empty area toward the top. Roman had promised to get a stool for Emma so that they could finish the tree, but I didn’t think she would mind if I messed with it.

I picked up another.

Then another.

Until all that was left was the brown-haired angel in my hands.

I sat down, running my finger over her porcelain futures, letting the angel’s hair curl around my finger. She was the perfect addition to the top of the tree. Her expression was angelic and graceful while the intricate details gave her a timeless beauty. It made me wonder if she would become a priceless heirloom within our family.

Shit. Family? That was something I never dreamed I would have, until Emma. Now? Now it’s all I can think about. She and Roman are all I can think about, and maybe it shouldn’t feel this good to be in love, twice. But, I think my heart had suffered enough in its lifetime and I deserved it.

“I’m cold without you there,” Emma said from behind me and my whole body jumped, not realizing she was there.

I opened my mouth, ready to tell her I couldn’t sleep, but instead my thoughts popped out. “She loved Christmas.”

Emma sat next to me, her favorite fluffy blanket, the one she stole from my room the first week we all began sleeping together, was wrapped tightly around her. She leaned her head against my shoulder. “Christmas is a beautiful holiday. The tree looks nice.”

“I hope you don’t mind.”

A smile covered her face. “Never.”

My finger grazed across the angel’s fragile face, and I didn’t want to tell her the truth, but suddenly in the dimly lit room, my life was pouring out. “It happened on Christmas Eve.”

“I know.” She looked down sadly.

Thoughts of my drunken father and his rage as he searched for me, wanting to take out his anger, and my mother’s strong resistance filled my mind. He was always grabbing me, hitting me, squeezing my skin until it was angry with purple bruises, so much so that I was afraid that every stranger I met would have a touch as awful as his. The thought of anyone being close enough made my skin crawl.

But not my mother, she was gentle and sweet. Like a damn angel. If she would have only told him where I was, where she forced me to hide when she heard him fumbling with the lock, too drunk to operate a key properly, she might still be alive. But his mind had already been set, at least that’s what everyone told me. And as I watched her body fall to the floor, her blank eyes locked on mine as I hid, and his fall shortly after . . . knocking over the tree with his descent, I wasn’t so sure.

The bells, my mother’s favorite tree décor, still sounded in my ears as the tree fell. When the whole room was silent, when the ringing of the gun stilled, the metallic sound of the bells still rang until the tree settled to the ground.

I gulped back the memory. “If the decorations make you happy, you should do it.”

“But do they make you happy, Shaw? I don’t want to make you feel sad.”

I rubbed the silk on the angel’s gown. I felt like shit for so long, and I was tired of the feeling. I didn’t want it. I didn’t want the sorrow to dictate my life any longer. “I think that what makes you happy, makes me happiest of all.”

She nodded like she understood. “Want to come back to bed?”

With her? I would go anywhere. I stood, reaching up and placing the angel on the top of the tree before standing back and admiring my handiwork. Emma grabbed my hand, lacing our fingers together before bringing it up to her lips and kissing my knuckles. “She’s perfect.”

I swallowed hard and closed my eyes against the slight pain the dryness caused at the action. Perfect. The brown-haired angel was absolutely perfect. A beautiful representation of peace on earth and love. The vision of miracles and hope. The symbolism of faith and devotion, Trust. Love.

Perfect.

Just like her.

Just like Emma.

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