Page 111 of Crazy In Love
“I mean, I’m not big on hating people, but the Waterstones are just not people I will associate with after what that dude did to Emerson,” Easton said. “Even if it all worked out for the best, he disrespected her, and I won’t forget it.”
I moved to the bar and refilled my glass before holding it up once I was seated again. “I’ll drink to that.”
I didn’t miss the looks that were being exchanged around the table.
Yeah, I was drinking a lot tonight.
And I had no intention of stopping.
In true Ellie Chadwick fashion, she made everyone go around the table and tell their favorite story about me, which was the equivalent of being waterboarded.
I hated this shit.
But I listened and nodded and did my best to survive it.
“Unc-ee is my favorite ice cream date,” Melody said. “And sometimes he gets me two scoops of the ice cream and tells me not to tell Daddy.”
“Are you throwing me under the bus, little monster?” I said as she climbed onto my lap.
She placed one hand on each of my cheeks. “I’ll never throw you anywhere, Unc-ee. ’Cause you’re my favorite.”
I felt my heart contract at her words.
“You’re my favorite, too.” I kissed her cheek, and she giggled as I wrapped my arms around her.
My mother brought out the cake, and everyone sang to me. I continued sipping on yet another whiskey as Melody insisted I blow out the candles.
“All right. You can help me,” I said as we leaned forward.
“You need to make a wish, Unc-ee. What do you wish you could have that you don’t already have?” she asked, accentuating every word as it left her mouth.
“I have everything I want,” I said.
“Close your eyes, Unc-ee. You’ll see your wish,” she insisted.
And I squeezed my eyes closed, because she was the one person I wouldn’t deny when it came to this stuff.
And all I saw was Emilia Taylor.
My eyes sprang open, and I quickly blew out the candles.
Melody leaned close to my ear. “What did you wish for, Unc-ee?”
“Something I can’t have, baby girl.”
And that was the damn truth.
Because Emilia Taylor deserved way better than me.
thirty
. . .
Emilia
I was inspectingthe new arches, since the guys who were here had finished painting and had packed up and left for the night. The job had taken longer than we’d expected, and I was grateful that they’d stayed late to get it done.
I knew Bridger was tired of having people in his home. And it was his birthday, so I didn’t want him coming home to a mess. I knew he’d love the way the archways had turned out, and now it was all about decorating.
