Page 136 of The Obsession
This time, my lips curve into a smile as the relief hits hard. It suddenly feels like I’ve been holding my breath for years and finally remembered how to let it out.
She loves me too.
By some grace of God, I manage to keep my composure. “I’d be okay with that.”
“Good,” is her only reply as she leans in to place her lips on mine.
When Emily turns back to watch my niece open the last of her presents, as if she didn’t just rock my world, I settle back into my seat, and the ridiculous grin on my face stretches so wide I almost want to punch myself.
For a brief moment, I feel like that little boy I used to be,before everything in my life went to shit. This right here is what true happiness feels like, and fuck me, I don’t ever want it to fade.
When the chaos of gift unwrapping is finished, Lil’ Peach rummages in her stash of presents until she finds the new leotard and tutu. “I put this on,” she says, clambering to her feet and running over to me.
I’m feeling so unlike myself right now that I don’t even care if she wants to wear her ballet outfit to lunch at the De Luca’s. She could ask me for just about anything right now, and I’m pretty sure I’d comply.
Emily rises off my lap, and even as I begin to undo the buttons on Peach’s pyjamas, my eyes remain locked on her as she leaves the room.
She comes back a few minutes later with a giant gift bag in her hand. “I have something for you,” she says, placing it down on the ground beside my feet.
“You got me gifts?”
“To be honest, I struggled to think of something to get you. You already have a nice watch, and you don’t seem like the jewellery-wearing kind.”
There’s a piece of jewellery I hope to wear one day soon, specifically a ring, but I keep that tidbit to myself.
I peer into the bag and see what looks to be a stack of large canvases.
“When I first moved in here,” Emily says, “I noticed how bare your walls were, so I went with that.”
Nothing she gives me could top the words she gave me earlier. Her love is all I’ll ever want or need.
I’m expecting colourful art or random prints, but when I reach in to pull the first one out, I find it is neither. It’s a black-and-white image of Lil’ Peach in her ballet attire. She looks so sweet.
“I love this,” I tell her. “Thank you.”
“There’s more.”
The next one is Peach again, but I tilt my head back and groan as soon as I see what, or specifically who, is perched on her lap.
“Fat Cat, seriously, Em. It’s bad enough that he’s invaded my home; now I have to look at his smug face every time I enter the room.”
“He’s part of the family,” she says with a laugh.
I stare at the cat. “He looks like he’s planning to take over the house and emotionally ruin me.”
“He does not. He likes you,” she replies.
“Well, I can assure you, the feeling is not mutual.”
“Uh-huh,” she hums all smugly like she knows I’m full of shit.
I’m not. That obese ball of fluff is the bane of my existence.
I pull the last canvas out of the bag and find myself grinning again. It’s a picture of the three of us taken the day we went to the zoo. “This one is my favourite,” I admit. “I’ll hang them on the wall after breakfast.” I reach for her hand and tug her closer. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” After I place a chaste kiss on her lips, she takes a step back and turns towards the kitchen. “I’ll get a start on the pancakes.”
“Pantakes,” Peach squeals.
