Page 41 of As the Years Pass
“Yay!” She jumps up and down again, then shoves me out the door with all her might and closes it behind me.
Kids are so strange.
I head down the steps, smoothing my shirt and checking my pants for stains. When I reach the bottom, I make out Emmet’s blurry form on the other side of the frosted glass window in the door. I take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves because why the hell am I nervous at all? This is Emmet. When I pull the door open, I’m met with a breathtaking smile and my heart flips in my chest.
“Hey,” he says smoothly.
“Hi,” I breathe out, just staring at him. Blinking. Maybe breathing, I’m not sure.
He looks like he always does, only better, somehow. I don’t know what it is about him today. Or last night, either. Though, that probably was the alcohol.
But I haven’t had a drop to drink today, and it’s like he’s glowing. Radiating something that calls to me.
“Can I come in?” he asks.
I chuckle nervously and step aside. “Yeah, of course.”
As we walk up the stairs to my apartment, me leading the way, all I can think about is how my ass is in his line of sight and I wonder if he’s looking at it.
That’s stupid, Adam. He isn’t looking at your ass.
I reach for the doorknob, but then stop and pull my hand back.
“We have to knock.” Emmet frowns, looking concerned. “I’ll explain after.” I give him a quick smile then knock three times, and the door is pulled open.
“Hello!” Judy says with a big grin. “Welcome to our home. I’m so glad you’re here. Daddy never has friends over. Likeeverever.”
Emmet is laughing as he steps inside, while I’m left in the hallway, absolutely mortified by my seven-year old calling me out like that.
“I hope you’re hungry,” I say as I grab everything we need for pizza from the fridge and put them on the counter. Emmet’s eyes go wide.
“Yeah, I skipped lunch today, actually,” he says.
“Skipping meals isn’t good,” Judy says.
“You’re right, it’s not,” Emmet responds in the same tone he’d talk to anyone else in. I like that he isn’t babying her and that he’s treating her like a human.
“Then why did you do it?” she asks.
“Judy,” I say in warning.
“It’s fine,” Emmet tells me, then turns to Judy as I open packages to put the toppings and cheeses into glass bowls to leave on the counter. Emmet continues. “I was really busy with work, which isn’t really an excuse, but sometimes when you’re an adult, you forget things.”
“Daddy forgets stuff sometimes too.”
“I do not,” I say defensively. My mind is pretty sharp.
“There was that one time you forgot my lunch box.”
I think back to what she’s talking about and can’t even recall it. There is no point arguing with her though, so I just say, “Okay, one time.”
“So, how old are you?” Emmet asks.
“I’m seven.”
“What grade are you in?”
“Second.”
