Where You Are
“I’m sorry,” he says, one hand sliding to the small of my back while the other moves to cradle my face. He kisses me, lightly. “I’m sorry.” The second kiss is deeper, longer. I lean into him, on my toes as he pulls me closer. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, and I shake my head, my arms knotting behind his neck, pulling him to me. His tongue sweeps through my mouth as I hum my surrender.
“Oh!” my stepmother exclaims from the kitchen door.
Chloe. Ruins. Everything.
“So sorry! Um. Coffee in the kitchen. If you want it.” She scurries away. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen her scurry before. I laugh, muffling the sound by leaning into Graham’s chest. He’s laughing quietly, too.
“That must have been a pretty good kiss,” he says. I look up into his dark eyes. One eyebrow angled up, he’s every inch a very self-satisfied boy.
“You don’t know if it was?”
He leans closer, his breath in my ear. “Oh, I know it was, all right. Let me prove it to you.”
“Huh,” I say.
He chuckles, the tip of his tongue touching the skin behind my ear. When I shiver and melt into him, his arms surround me, pulling me in tight before he claims my mouth again.
***
Me: Change in plans…graham is here.
Em: Brooke—>bed—>photo—>not speaking to him???
Me: Misunderstanding
Em: What about joe? ARGH. Calling you when I get off.
With a sigh, I cram the phone into my front pocket and reach for Graham’s hand as we stroll the last half-block to the park.
“She’s not happy, huh? If you want to go without me tonight—”
“No, I’m not going without you.” I stop walking and pull my hand from his, crossing my arms over my chest and scowling at him.
He turns back, his eyes that rich caramel they become in the sunlight. God, he’s beautiful. But I wish he’d stop being so… complacent. Taking in my posture, he grins towards his feet and releases a pent-up breath. His expression is hypnotic when he raises his eyes to mine. “Emma.” He steps close, tracing his fingers from my shoulders to my elbows. “Are you upset that I’m not more… possessive?”
“What? No—that’s the last thing I’d want.” My arms loosen. The memory of Meredith and Robby last fall makes me shudder. When I talked to her a couple of weeks ago, things weren’t going well. The enraged phone calls and accusations had started up again, and her emotions were a mess. I can only hope that Robby’s angry verbal outbursts never become physical.
“Really?”
I roll my eyes a little—Graham’s notion of possessive would probably consist of a sharp glare and terse answers. “Well. Maybe not the last thing…”
He laughs. “Oh yeah? What would be last?”
I chew my lip, not meeting his eyes, until he tips my chin up. He’s wearing a cocky grin that I’m about to make cockier. “Disinterest. Goodbye.” I shrug. “Those would be last.”
Instead of a smug look, he shakes his head and slides his arms around me, resting his forehead against mine. My hands come to rest on his chest. “Never, Emma.”
*** *** ***
GRAHAM
“I forgot to ask—when did you get here, and how long can you stay, and are you staying with me?” Her questions are rapid-fire, shading her cheeks a little pink.
We’ve been sitting on a park bench, people-watching. Emma’s neighborhood park boasts a man-made pond with a fountain in the center. It’s about half the size of Turtle Pond in Central Park, and it contains a collection of fat, lazy ducks. When small children toss bits of bread on the water, the ducks only gobble it up if it’s within a close enough range. Anything thrown outside of a four-foot sphere surrounding any duck just gets soggy and sinks.
“I landed in Sacramento late last night. I leave tomorrow at noon—which gets me to JFK around eight New York time. And I’m staying in a hotel downtown.”
Her eyes follow an elderly couple who amble by on the paved sidewalk, holding hands. “Why didn’t you call when you got in town last night?” I give her a hooded look and wait for her to remember her powered-down phone. “Oh. Right. But you can’t stay later tomorrow, or another night?”
Chuckling at a small boy whose goal appears to be nailing the ducks in the head with hunks of bagel, I allow myself a private smile at the barely-discernible sulk in her tone.
“Cassie has to take Caleb for a checkup, and everyone else is working Monday, so I’ll have Cara. And I promised her a trip to the zoo since I’ve been gone or studying so much lately.”
“Oh, of course.” I watch her face as she pretends to watch the ducks and roller-bladers while she contemplates my responsibility to my daughter. I sense, too, the other question she isn’t asking.
“I’d love for you to stay with me tonight,” I say, and her eyes shift up to mine. “But I’d rather have your dad like me.”
“He does.”
“I’d rather him to continue to like me.”
Emma stares at the ducks again, which have all paddled just out of bagel-hurling range. “I talked to him about getting an apartment instead of a dorm.” The wind kicks up and sends a strand of hair across her face, and I automatically reach to tuck it back behind her ear. She turns to me, her forehead creased, her eyes searching mine. “I know you think living in a dorm would be more normal-girl or whatever, but I want an apartment. I’ve wanted a cat ever since Chloe made me give Hector up, and no dorm will allow that. And I want the plants Chloe said would suck up all the oxygen.”