56

56
"And then what happened?" It was Emma on the other line.

I was lying on my bed, the late afternoon light spilling lazily through my window. School had just ended, and even though my punishment was officially over today, I chose not to go see Emma. Not out of guilt or hesitance, but out of respect. My parents had been unbelievably understanding after everything. It felt only right to give them this one last day of full attention before bringing Emma back into the picture.

They actually asked me to invite her over for dinner tomorrow. They wanted to meet her—officially.

So, I called Emma and told her they knew about us now.

As soon as I said it, I could hear her start to panic. Her breathing changed, and there was this tell-tale echo of footsteps pacing.

"Hey," I said, gently cutting through her spiraling thoughts. "You’re going to be fine. They’re okay with us. There’s really nothing to worry about, I promise."

She exhaled sharply, like she’d been holding her breath without realizing it.

“Okay. Okay. I’ll be there tomorrow night. But…” she hesitated. “Can I see you before dinner?”

My heart softened at her request. “Umm, I guess I could come over. I can’t stay too long though—my mom’s gonna be home all day cooking for you.” I teased her, trying to lighten the tension.

“Oh god.” She laughed nervously. “That just made it worse. But I still want to see you. I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Em.”

The next morning, I woke up to an empty house and a note taped to the fridge:

“Going to the market for dinner later. There’s food inside. — Mom.”

It was just past 11 a.m. and I wasn’t hungry yet, but I felt this ache in my chest that I knew food wouldn’t solve.

I needed to see Emma.

Still in my pajamas, I brushed my hair quickly, changed into something decent, and slipped out the front door. My legs carried me across the short distance to her place like it was muscle memory.

Three knocks.

Emma opened the door almost instantly, like she’d been waiting for it.

She didn’t say a word. She just pulled me in by the waist, closed the door behind us, and kissed me.

It was hungry and warm and filled with the kind of longing that text messages couldn’t carry. Her arms were tight around my waist, her lips moving against mine like we had been apart for years, not days.

As much as I wanted that kiss to go on forever, I pulled back slightly, breathless.

“Em... Em.”

“What?” She murmured, her lips chasing mine again, her hands trying to cup my face.

I caught her hands gently and stepped back, laughing softly.

“My mom could be back any minute, and I want to be home when she returns.”

That snapped her out of her daze. She blinked, took a deep breath, and smiled sheepishly.

“Oh. Right. Of course.”

I reached out and touched her cheek. “I missed you too. I missed kissing you. But let’s hold off for just a little longer, okay?”

I didn’t expect to be the one saying that. I mean, I was the hormonal teenager in this relationship, wasn’t I? But Emma nodded, clearly trying to get herself together.

“Come here.” She said, leading me to her bedroom.

When we walked in, there were about dozens of outfits laid out on her bed.

I looked at them, confused. “What’s going on? You Marie Kondo-ing your closet?”

She rolled her eyes. “No. I don’t know what to wear tonight. I need your help picking an outfit for meeting-the-parents dinner.”

I blinked at her. “You’re serious?”

“Yes, I’m serious!”

I looked back at the bed. Honestly, she could wear a paper bag and still charm my parents, but I knew better than to say that out loud.

"Hmm, just casual I think is okay."

"You think? I don't need you to think, Jennifer, I need you to know!"

I pulled back up.

"Hey! What are you full naming me for?"

Her panicky face softened.

“You don’t need to stress, Emma. It’s not like a dinner party with wine pairings and place cards. It’s just my parents. You’ve met my mom already, and she likes you.”

She crossed her arms and pouted slightly. “Yeah, but I haven’t met your dad. And I know he wasn’t thrilled about the whole ‘sleepovers with his minor daughter’ thing. He probably thinks I’m some corrupting adult.”

I stepped closer and wrapped my arms around her waist.

“Trust me. He’ll like you. You’re going to be fine.”

Emma leaned her head against my shoulder. “I’m just nervous. I’ve never had a meet-the-parents dinner before. Not even when I was with a boyfriend. I avoided it every time.”

“Well, that’s because all your ex-boyfriends sucks!” I said, and she let out a breathy laugh.

We stood like that for a while, arms wrapped around each other, her heartbeat matching mine.

Eventually, her lips found mine again in a slower, more careful kiss. Her hands slipped behind my neck, and mine traced the outline of her hips.

God, I wanted more. But I couldn’t.

“Emma…” I murmured against her lips, not pulling away just yet.

She smiled against my mouth. “I know.”

I pecked her one more time, then moved toward the door. “You’re gonna be okay. Don’t overthink it. I love you.”

Before I could open the door, she grabbed my hand, pulled me back to her, and kissed me again—just a soft press of lips this time.

“I love you too.”

That evening, my dad and I were in the living room watching the news. My mom was still in the kitchen, finishing up dinner. She’d spent all afternoon preparing the meal and humming to herself like she was hosting a mini wedding banquet.

Knock, knock, knock.

My dad and I looked at each other.

“I’ll get it,” I said, jumping up.

I opened the door—and there she was.

Emma stood in front of me, wearing a plain army green dress that clung just right to her figure. Her hair was pulled up, showing off her graceful neck, and I suddenly forgot how to breathe.

I stared a second too long.

“Are you going to let her in, honey?” my dad called from the couch.

Emma fought back a giggle. I stepped aside quickly.

“Come in,” I whispered, leaning close. “You look gorgeous.”

She smiled, brushing past me as she entered.

“Good evening, Sir. My name is Emma.” She extended her hand to my dad, her voice slightly more formal than usual.

My dad smiled and stood to shake her hand. “You’re too formal. Call me Ross. Have a seat, Emma. Sue’s just finishing up in the kitchen. Can I get you something to drink? Jennifer, get her some juice, or water, or wine—what do you want, dear?”

"Dad slow down." I whispered to my Dad. He seems excited about meeting Emma and I know it puts Emma at ease a bit.

Emma chuckled as she sat on the couch.

“That’s okay, Ross. My house is literally three steps from here. I had water before I came over.”

My dad let out a big, hearty laugh—louder than I’d expected.

What is happening to him?

He turned to me, beaming. “She’s funny. I like her, Jen.”

My jaw almost dropped.

Already?

I mean—I’m not complaining, but he hadn’t even talked to her for five minutes.

“Table is ready!” my mom called from the kitchen.
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