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"What do you do, Emma?" my dad asked casually as he reached for the serving bowl.

We were already at the dining table. Emma sat beside me, my mom across from us, and my dad at the head of the table. The room was filled with the warm scent of rosemary chicken, roasted vegetables, and freshly baked bread—comfort food, the kind my mom made only on special occasions.

Emma cleared her throat gently and replied, “I’m a sales director at Unitedcare Group.”

The clinking of utensils stopped for a moment. Both my mom and dad paused mid-bite and stared at her.

I blinked. What? Was that a bad answer?

“That’s…” My dad started, setting his fork down, “One of the largest groups here in the US.”

My mom nodded slowly, clearly impressed. “I didn’t know they had a branch here.”

“They do. I actually just relocated for the promotion.” Emma said calmly, though I could sense the hint of nervous pride in her voice.

My dad leaned forward slightly, his brows raised. “And how old are you, Emma?”

Emma glanced sideways at me before answering. “I’m twenty-seven.”

“Such a young age!” My dad exclaimed. “And already a director?”

“Yes, sir. I’ve been working in the field since I graduated college. I started as an intern, then climbed my way up. Sales has always been something I’ve been passionate about, and when the opportunity came, I took it. That’s what brought me here.”

I sat there in quiet surprise.

She never told me that.

I mean, I knew she worked in sales—but a director? At Unitedcare? That’s massive.

I stared at her for a second longer, feeling both proud and... weirdly left out. I guess I never asked enough about her work. Still, how had that never come up?

The conversation between Emma and my parents quickly picked up momentum. They were suddenly deep in talk about business strategy, team leadership, career goals, and relocation stress. My dad asked her how she managed her time, how she maintained her team, and how her own parents reacted when she got promoted. Emma answered each question with grace, humor, and a confidence that reminded me of why I fell for her in the first place.

I wasn’t part of the conversation anymore, and strangely, I didn’t mind.

Emma made sure to include me in small ways though—squeezing my thigh under the table, brushing her knee against mine, giving me little side glances whenever my parents got too deep into management talk. It was her way of saying, “I haven’t forgotten you,” and I appreciated it more than I could say.

Still, I couldn’t stop my brain from spinning.

My parents were impressed. Like, really impressed.

And I couldn’t blame them. Emma was impressive. She had built herself a career, earned a high-ranking position, and held herself with the poise of someone who knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to chase it.

And then there was me—eighteen next month, unsure of my college plans, barely scraping through high school, and drowning in indecision.

I wanted them to be proud of me too. One day.

I wanted to give them a reason to throw a party like they did for Murry when she opened her bakeshop, even though it was small. I wanted the same pride they had for Anne when she got accepted into the accounting firm she now worked at. They celebrated her like she had just won the Nobel Prize.

They let them choose their own paths. Helped them get apartments, cosigned leases, and gave them the freedom to shape their futures.

But here I was—stuck. Floating. Directionless.

Still, tonight wasn’t about me. It was about Emma. And they clearly adored her.

“She was invited, Jen, right?” my mom asked suddenly, snapping me back into the present.

I blinked. “What?”

“Your birthday. Your sisters are coming. I know Anne met Emma already, but I want Murry to meet her too.”

Oh no.

I felt Emma’s eyes on me before I even turned to look.

Pain shot through my leg.

She was squeezing my thigh—hard.

I winced but didn’t make a sound.

I hadn’t told her about my birthday. I hadn’t invited her. Heck, I hadn’t even mentioned it at all.

“Yes, Sue, of course she invited me.” Emma said smoothly, covering for me without missing a beat.

I forced an awkward smile at my parents, but I knew my mom could see right through it. She always could. She saw the way I shifted in my seat, how my eyes flicked toward Emma and away again. She caught the tension, the silent apology in my expression, and the tight-lipped smile Emma wore to cover her frustration.

She knew better. She always did.

Dinner wrapped up not long after that. My dad excused himself, saying he needed to make a few phone calls—calls that, according to my mom, would last hours because they were to his brothers. She shooed us toward the living room with a knowing smirk.

The moment we stepped away from the table, Emma leaned in and pinched me on the waist—hard.

I gasped, slapping a hand over my mouth so I wouldn’t yelp loud enough for my mom to hear.

“How come you didn’t tell me it’s your birthday next month?” She hissed in a whisper, each word emphasized by another silent, painful pinch.

“It didn’t occur to me.” I whispered back through clenched teeth, trying to wrestle her hands away. “I mean, I don’t even think about my birthday. I’m not one of those people who throws a whole week of celebration.”

“I’m your girlfriend, Jennifer. You should be telling me this stuff!”

“Oh yeah? Then how come you never told me you were a sales director at Unitedcare?” I shot back.

“You didn’t ask!”

“Well, you didn’t ask when my birthday was!”

She glared at me and launched another stealthy attack.

Her fingers pinched me again—this time at my side, leaving a stinging trail. “That. Is. Different.” She said.

“Ow! Ow! Ow!” I jumped away from her, trying to dodge the next assault.

“Birthdays are basic information! You should’ve told me!”

I danced backward, trying to avoid her while stifling my laughter and cries of pain.

That’s when we heard the clearing of a throat behind us.

We both froze.

My mom stood in the archway between the dining room and the living room, a tray of tea in her hands and a very amused expression on her face.

“Oh, Sue...” Emma straightened immediately, all mock aggression wiped from her face.

My mom raised an eyebrow at us and walked over.

“You know,” she said, setting the tray down on the coffee table, “I would’ve done the same thing if my girlfriend forgot to mention her birthday.”

Emma laughed out loud, and my mom joined her.

“Kids, right?” My mom said, sitting down.

“Yeah!” Emma agreed.

I stood there in stunned silence, watching the two of them bond like besties at my expense.

My mouth was slightly open in disbelief.

“Close your mouth, Jennifer.” My mom said without even looking at me. “A fly could go in.”

Emma smirked as she accepted a cup of tea from her.

I sat down reluctantly beside her, my pride bruised and ego thoroughly bruised.

Emma, of course, looked absolutely pleased with herself. Like she’d just won some battle and claimed my mother as her ally.

“Don’t wait for my husband, Emma. Drink your tea.” My mom said casually. “Those ‘couple of calls’ he mentioned? They’ll take hours. He’s talking to his brothers. He won’t be done till maybe 10 or 11.”

Emma nodded politely, lifting her tea cup to her lips.

Then my mom’s tone shifted.

“I actually wanted to speak to both of you alone.”

Emma immediately put down her cup, and I sat up a little straighter. The mood shifted—not in a bad way, but definitely in a way that made the hair on my arm stand.

“Yeah, sure, Sue,” Emma said, her voice respectful but steady.

My mom looked between the two of us, serious now.

“I like you, Emma.”

Uh-oh.

“And I think you’re good for Jen. I do. I can see it.”

Emma’s body tensed beside me. I could practically hear her heart beating through her chest.

“But,” My mom continued, “I just have one request.”

“Of course, Sue. Whatever it is, tell me,” Emma said quickly.

My mom’s eyes were kind, but firm.

“I don’t want Jennifer sleeping over at your place. I know you live next door. I know she’ll be eighteen in a few weeks. But until she is officially out of this house and living on her own, I want her sleeping here. Under our roof. Every night.”

Emma let out a slow breath—almost a laugh—and nodded.

“I understand, Sue. That won’t happen again. I promise.”

My mom smiled then. The warmth returned to her face, like a cloud passing to let sunlight through.

And just like that, everything was fine again.

Oh, Mom.
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