Page 84 of Engulfing Emma

“Ignore them,” he says, as we inch closer to the elevators. “They have no idea what your story is, and that gives them no right to judge.”

The doors open, and it’s our turn to pile in. I start to sweat. Around us are families of tourists, two businessmen, and a single lady checking out Brett.

“No kissing,” I say to him before the doors close.

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

Disappointment courses through me at his curtness.

When the elevator ascends, it feels like my heart is going to stop. I can’t catch my breath.

“Emma, eyes on me,” he says. “Don’t think about it. Think about something else. Tell me about a good memory. The day Evelyn was born. Tell me about that.”

“I … I can’t,” I say shakily.

“Is she going to faint?” the woman next to me asks. “Oh, Lord, she’s not going to be sick, is she?” She pushes her child farther away from me. “People shouldn’t do this unless they can handle it.”

Brett gives her a quelling look. “She’s fine. I’d appreciate it if you’d mind your own business.”

I feel the stares of all the people in the elevator. They look at me and whisper amongst themselves. My stomach rolls. Maybe the woman is right. Maybe Iamgoing to be sick.

Brett looks at a loss. We don’t have alcohol. He can’t kiss me. My knees get weak.

Brett fusses with his phone. I hear music, and a few seconds later, Brett breaks into song.

He’s singing Elton John.

He turns the volume on his phone as high as it will go and sings along loudly. I’m shocked and maybe a little embarrassed, because he’s so off-key.

“B-B-B-Bennie and the Jets,” he sings, belting out the chorus.

Everyone in the elevator looks at him, but he doesn’t seem to care.

After the first verse, a man in the corner sings along. Some of the kids laugh. Then a woman joins in. A minute later, almost all the adults, including the rude woman, are singing the explosive chorus of my happy-place song.

Before I know it, I’m smiling. I don’t sing along. I’m too shocked to speak. But I do spend the rest of the elevator ride completely floored over what this man will do to distract me.

The doors open to the observatory and people exit, still singing or humming.

I pull Brett aside once we’ve cleared the doors. “You’re crazy,” I say, laughing.

“Andyou’relaughing,” he says, taking a bow. “Mission accomplished. We’re here.”

I look around and blow out a deep breath, realizing I’m not as scared as I thought I’d be when I got up here. “I thought you didn’t like Elton John.”

“I never said I didn’t like him. I said I didn’t know the words to his songs.”

I stare. “You learned the words? For … me?”

“Come on,” he says. “Let’s check things out.”

We stroll the perimeter, admiring the picturesque skyline. I even look through one of the binocular thingies.

I catch Brett staring at me. “What is it?”

“You’re having a good time, aren’t you?”

I look around, enjoying the open-air deck. “I guess so.”

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