Page 9 of You Found Me
“Someone who supported me,” she stops again, blowing out a breath. “And someone who’dwantto listen to my thoughts and feelings without judgement.” The last two words come out soft as though she’s stuck in her own head.
She turns away from the crowd, struggling to continue her speech. Mia and Piper, Colette’s stepsister, start whispering to one another, and I watch as Mia waves over to Susannah. Taking that as her cue to intervene, she makes her way to her daughter and softly murmurs something in Emmaline’s ear. She nods then hugs her mom before returning to the table I’m sharing with the girls.
I don’t feel like it’s my place to ask if she's okay, and I mentally curse Theo for leaving me alone here. He left about an hour ago due to a call from the Meadow Springs Fire Department requesting help. He recently became a volunteer firefighter, and with my move, that bit of information slipped my mind.
But now all I can think about is how many jokes I can make at his expense and figure out a way to convince them to do a sexy firefighter calendar.
Andrew stands, joining Susannah who says, “We’d like to thank everyone again for coming. It means more than you know that of all the things you could be doing on this beautiful Saturday, you chose to celebrate our marriage. You all mean the world to us.”
He leans in to kiss Susannah’s forehead, taking the microphone and adds, “There’s not much else to say that hasn’t already been said. The bar is open for another half hour and if anyone’s thrown back too many already—looking at you Uncle Paul—we have rooms at the house all set up.”
With that last bit of information, Mia heads toward the bar and comes back with a tray full of shots. She and Emmaline take a shot immediately, and I know that no good can come from this. While Mia is friendly enough, she’s also had her fair share of drinks during the dinner, which means she’s no help in the voice of reason department right now.
Piper’s only had two drinks spread out over the whole evening but is egging them on. There’s a twinkle in her greenish-blue eyes that makes me think she won’t be of any help either.
Having no other option, I shoot Theo a text.
How worried should I be that your sister has a tray of shots?
Theo
On a scale of 1-10? Probably 20. Is everything okay?
Emmaline choked up a bit during her speech and couldn’t continue. Mia and Piper seem to know what’s going on… but their solution is shots.
Theo
Do you mind helping them home? Piper doesn’t really drink but she won’t be able to handle them on her own.
They just downed 3 shots each. Except for Piper. I’ll get them back to Mia’s.
Eight shots later, we’re walking to Mia’s apartment.
She’s ahead of us, twirling and skipping down the sidewalk. She holds her liquor much better than Emmaline, who looks like a lost baby deer. I gently grab her arm and link it with mine. Other than complaining about the quality of the tequila, she hasn’t said a single word since she sat down after her speech.
“Is everything okay with you? You seemed a little upset at the diner Thursday. Then tonight while giving your speech . . .” I let the sentence hang in the air, but instead of answering, she stares off while Mia unlocks the door and walks inside, leaving me alone with Emmaline. She peers up at me, hair falling into her eyes and I find myself brushing those loose strands away.
She lets out a big sigh. “I’m just so tired.”
“Well, let’s get you inside so you can sleep.”
Shesnorts a humorless laugh and walks in front of me into the living room. “Sure, I’m that kind of tired, too. I just mean with life.”
She reaches the couch, sits, then says, “You know, I’m so happy that we were able to move closer to Meadow Springs with his trade, but it feels like an uphill battle to get him to make a trip here. I mean they’re going to be his family once we’re married, and it’s almost as if he’d rather cut ties than have anything to do with the people here. I love him. I do. I’m just so tired of fighting for him to care for me.”
When she starts crying, I don’t know what else to do except pull her into a side hug. I don’t know her fiancé, and yet I can say with the utmost confidence, I hate him.
She shouldn’t have to beg to be loved in the way she deserves.
“I’m sorry,” she tells me, as she wipes her tears.
“Sorry for what? For having emotions? You never have to apologize for crying. Not to me or to anyone. It’s good to let it out.”
She nods, more so to herself rather than to me and sighs. “I’ve missed this feeling.”
“What feeling?”
“Being hugged. Chance and I haven’t hugged—or even touched—since we got engaged over a year ago. I guess I just miss beingcloseto someone.”
