53

53
I was walking through the hallway, still confused.

Everything felt like it was happening in a dream—or a nightmare. I wasn’t even sure which anymore. My footsteps echoed softly on the wooden floor as I slowly made my way to the living room. My fingers nervously tugged at the hem of my shirt, and I was still trying to process what Anne had told me.

Emma. Emma is in our living room.

As I stepped into the room, I was greeted with all eyes suddenly turning to me. It was like I had stepped onto a stage unprepared, and I felt an immediate rush of heat crawling up my neck.

My mom was seated comfortably on the couch, hands folded on her lap, like this was any other normal Saturday afternoon. Anne was lounging at the edge of the seat, clearly trying to hold back laughter, her lips twitching into an amused smirk. And Emma… Emma was sitting there like she belonged. Like, this wasn’t the most surreal and terrifying moment of my life.

Emma is here. At my house.

I could still hear Anne’s voice in my head like an echo: “Emma is in the living room.”

“Come here, Jen,” my mom called, her tone laced with authority.

I didn’t move. My body betrayed me. My feet felt like they were cemented to the floor. I looked helplessly at Emma, whose mouth curved into a barely contained smile. She was obviously enjoying this.

“Jennifer!” my mom barked again, this time using my full name.

That jolted me into action. I flinched, startled, and I knew Emma saw it because her eyes never left mine from the moment I walked in. She was studying me like I was the most interesting thing in the room—and probably trying not to laugh.

Anne, of course, had already given in to her amusement. Her giggles were quiet but obvious. I threw her a look—half threatening, half pleading—but she only laughed harder, covering her mouth like it helped.

I walked toward them, dragging my feet a little, and that’s when I noticed the bags on the coffee table. Half a dozen of them. Some had even spilled onto the floor.

What the hell?

My eyes went wide. “Are we feeding the entire neighborhood?” I mumbled under my breath.

“Why do you always sleep until the afternoon whenever there's no school?” Mom scolded, completely ignoring our guest. She said it like Emma wasn’t sitting right there, watching the whole thing unfold.

“Mom!” I hissed, mortified.

Emma was smiling wide now, clearly entertained by the display. I felt like my face was going to explode from how red it had turned.

“Emma brought all this food for us,” my mom continued proudly, like Emma had just brought her gold bars instead of takeout. “Prepare the table. We’re having lunch together.”

She gestured toward the couch, inviting Emma to sit, and as Emma passed by me, she winked. Smirked. Winked and smirked. The audacity.

Is this her plan to talk to me? Bribe my family with food? Genius.

I quickly checked the clock on the wall. It was past noon.

Anne grabbed a few bags and nudged me toward the kitchen. I followed her in a daze, still not fully convinced this was real.

“Your girlfriend is so thoughtful,” Anne whispered with a smug grin, “bringing food to her in-laws-to-be.”

I slapped her arm. “Shut up!”

“They might hear you,” I hissed.

Anne just laughed and walked back to the living room to grab the remaining bags. I stayed behind to breathe for a second. What in the world was happening right now?

“And she’s hot!” Anne called out before disappearing again.

I groaned. If I had the power to mute her voice forever, I would. I swear I would.

We set the table while Anne continued laughing like this was the best comedy show she’d ever seen. She was clearly enjoying my slow meltdown. I, on the other hand, could barely stop my hands from shaking.

Why is Emma here?

“Mom, the table is ready!” Anne yelled.

I heard footsteps approach, followed by the low murmur of voices. My chest pounded like it wanted out of my body. The anticipation was unbearable. I stood by the dining table, paralyzed again.

Three of them sat down—my mom at the head, Anne across from her, and Emma… Emma right beside the empty chair I was supposed to take.

I remained standing.

“What are you waiting for?” my mom asked with narrowed eyes. “Go sit with Emma. You're being rude standing there.”

I opened my mouth to respond, to make an excuse, but Emma subtly shook her head at me. She lifted her eyes toward the empty chair beside her and gave me a look that said, “Don’t. Just sit.”

I sighed and obeyed, sitting beside her stiffly. I was hyper-aware of every move she made.

“You’re so thoughtful to remember Jen, Emma,” Mom began sweetly. “Has she even met your mom?”

I blinked and turned to Emma, alarmed.

What the hell are they talking about?

“Oh, no, she hasn’t. But if she ever visits me here, I’ll of course introduce her,” Emma replied smoothly.

I poked her thigh under the table, trying to get her attention, silently asking what the hell was going on. She glanced at me and continued.

“You remember, today is my mom’s birthday? I wanted you to come with me this morning but you were grounded. So I thought I’d bring some of the food here.”

Ahhh.

I finally caught on to the lie she was weaving. Clever.

“Ahhh... Yeah, sorry about that,” I said, playing along.

“Did she tell you what she did and why we grounded her?” Mom asked Emma like she was already part of the family.

I wanted to melt into the floor.

“Yes, she did,” Emma said with a sympathetic nod. “I told her, if it were me, I’d have done the same.”

The table fell quiet, and all eyes landed on me again. Anne was enjoying herself far too much.

The lunch dragged on, mostly filled with my mom interrogating Emma about her life, her family—and, of course, her boyfriend.

“Oh, umm. We actually broke up,” Emma said.

I choked on my water.

What?

She broke up with him?

I looked at her, trying to catch her eyes, but she was carefully avoiding mine. I poked her again. She batted my hand away.

Anne caught my eye and raised her eyebrows, clearly just as surprised as I was.

The list of questions I had from last night had just doubled.

She broke the engagement. Did she fight with her parents? Did she do it because of me?

God, I wish Mom would stop talking.

By the time we finished lunch—what felt like a lifetime later—I had aged ten years.

Mom kept telling Emma stories about my childhood, conveniently all the most embarrassing ones she could remember. The kind that should be locked away in a vault and never shared with anyone—especially not to the girl I liked.

She told her how I used to get in trouble at school, how I punched the neighbor’s kid, my classmates, how I once tried to paint our whole house using the crayons I had, and how I roped my sisters into every scheme imaginable.

I wanted to crawl under the table and die.

Emma, of course, was eating it all up. She looked like she was being entertained at a five-star comedy show.

And of course, not one word about my academic achievements. I was class top scorer for years, but nooo, let’s focus on the time I put worms in Anne’s shoes.

“Emma, thank you so much for a lovely lunch,” Mom said, rising from her chair and patting Emma’s hand. “I just wish my husband was here to meet you. He’s always working.”

“That’s fine, Mrs. Higgins. I’m sure I’ll meet him another time,” Emma replied kindly.

“Just call me Sue, no need to be so formal.”

Oh, Mom.

As they moved to the couch, Mom gestured for me and Anne to make coffee.

We headed to the kitchen, and Anne leaned close to me.

“Mom likes her,” she whispered.

“She liked her even before today,” I said, gathering the mugs. “She always said Emma was polite.”

“I like her,” Anne said casually, placing sugar packets on the tray.

I blinked at her. “You do?”

“Yeah, why not?”

I studied her face, trying to see if she was just teasing, but she looked sincere.

“All I’m saying is, if you ever decide to come out to Mom, it’s an advantage that she likes Emma already,” Anne said. “But just wait until you’re 18. Avoid the drama of her screaming that her minor daughter is sleeping with an adult next door.”

Her words echoed in my head.

We brought the coffee out, and Emma’s gaze followed me as I walked into the room. It was intense. Hot. I tried not to trip.

I could feel her undressing me with her eyes—and it was not a comforting thought with my mother right there.

“Actually, Sue, I was hoping to speak to Jennifer about something,” Emma began, her voice sweet. “Two weeks ago, she was actually… helping me with something on my laptop.”

Mom nodded, casually glancing at Emma’s purse.

“Where’s your laptop?” she asked.

Busted.

I closed my eyes. Oh my God.

Anne coughed to stifle her laugh. I shot her a death glare.

“Oh, umm, I wasn’t able to carry it because of the food bags, you know,” Emma said quickly.

Nice one, Emma.
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