Chapter 13

13

EMMA

I s it possible that something can be too perfect?

My head is spinning as I walk home after what felt like an extra-long day of work. Last night was beyond incredible, a definite highlight in my entire life. Making breakfast together and getting ready for work was fun too. It really did feel like we were playing house.

Which left me with a bit of a cold feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Because I never said that I wanted to set up a household with him. He just…assumed.

It’s just so unbelievably normal for everyone to think I want to get married, live in a stylish house and have three children, like my sisters. All of society seems to assume this as well.

Maybe I do and maybe I don’t, but it needs to be my decision . I can’t help but feel prickly about the whole thing.

Aunt Tish and Uncle Boyle are already home by the time I walk in the door.

“Emma? Come in here, please.” My uncle sounds serious. I go into the kitchen, where they’re both sitting at the table looking stern.

“Hi. How was your trip?” Sliding into a chair, I try to keep my face perfectly neutral.

Uncle Boyle clears his throat, glances to his wife, then turns to me. “Emma, I don’t think you should be hanging around with that tattoo guy.”

Wow – news really does travel fast in a small town. “He does work right across the street from me,” I say carefully.

“Yes. Well.” Aunt Tish takes over. “Some of my friends told us that you two were looking very cozy. You’re probably not aware of his reputation.”

“Oh? What specifically about his reputation?” They glance at each other nervously. “Please,” I insist. “I’d love to know, so I can decide if it’s important to me.”

Uncle Boyle scrubs his hand through what’s left of his hair. “Well…you know… You hear things around town.”

“Really? What kind of things?”

His eyes shift side to side. “Can’t remember everything we’ve heard over the years. But there were definitely…things. He’s the kind of guy that people whisper about.”

“Yes,” Aunt Tish adds. “You know that he lived in New York for a while.”

“So do about eight million other people. What’s your point?” It takes great mental fortitude to keep myself from rolling my eyes at them. “He went to art school there. Then he lived in a couple of other cities for a while when he was apprenticing. He couldn’t do either of those things here, but once he got his career off the ground he moved back to Cedarville, because he truly loves it here. I honestly do not see how any of that makes him a bad person.”

My uncle clears his throat. “Still, you’re living in our house, at least for now. I think we owe it to your parents to keep a proper eye on you. Which includes forbidding you to hang out with…” My eyes narrow as I stare daggers at him until he trails off.

“I’ve had a long day on my feet and smell like blueberry scones. I’m going to take a shower.”

They don’t say a word as I leave the room. Thank goodness. Not saying a word…well, up till now …is actually their biggest strength as landlords and housemates. We mostly keep to ourselves, except for occasionally sharing meals. I know that they’re family and probably have the best intentions on this one, but they’re sadly mistaken.

Once I get under the hot rushing water, my body tenses up instead of relaxing. I can see how this is going to play out. They’re going to talk to my parents. Who are going to report back to my sisters, who have always been hell bent on advising me whether I like it or not. They’ll call me, pretending to know the secrets of the universe, and tell me the only way to be happy is to achieve their aspirational cookie-cutter life complete with the aspirational gray sofa.

After my shower, I collapse onto the bed, feeling hollow. The feelings I have for Crow are enormous. He fills me with so much light and laughter and creativity, and…oh my god…

Love. He fills me with love.

I can feel how much he loves me in every touch, see it in every glance. The way he cares for me so precisely and deeply is amazing, not to mention the stunning bonding experience of last night.

I’m infatuated with every shrug of those massive shoulders. Every little quip. Every touch of his fingers trailing against my skin.

Logically, I know that’s bonkers. We can’t be in love. We haven’t even been together for a week.

So why does it feel like forever is inevitable, and I don’t even have a say in the matter?