Page 102 of Emerson

The last thing I expected to see when I opened the text from him today was a picture of Emery and Penny at Sunday Bennet dinner. My daughter is on his lap, and Emery has a protective arm wrapped around her waist while he feeds her a spoonful of mashed potatoes. I could almost hear the fucking scene. Penny giggling, Emery making airplane noises to try to get her to open her mouth.

He didn't look like a scared man. He looked at ease with my heart in his lap.

Do I like it?

What a dumb fucking question.

“You're a little shit.”

“Last time I checked, I was bigger than you.” I grit my teeth, and he responds like he can see it with another chuckle. “I thought it was fun teasing Emery about his crush on you, but I'm starting to think I've missed out on even more fun. You're easy to rile up, Dill.”

“Oh, fuck off, dude.”

“Nah, ‘cause now that I have you on the phone it's the perfect time to do my brotherly duty of asking what your intentions are when you come home this week.”

Everything.

“You Bennets really don't know how to mind your own business.”

“Correct. So the question remains.”

I exhale and drop down on the bed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “You're supposed to tell me I'm too old for him.”

“He's twenty-three.”

“You're supposed to tell me he's not going to want to play house with a dude that has a kid.”

“He's quite enjoying the kid life, I think. They have matching pink toenails.”

My heart bangs against my chest, and I lean over.

“You're doing a shit job of this right now.”

“You're doing a shit job of this right now. Why haven't you talked to him?”

How does he know that?

“What do you mean?”

I hear a door close, and all the background noise falls away.

“I mean, Dillon, that my brother asks how you are every time we talk. He watches your daughter every Tuesday and picks her up from daycare on Fridays. He takes her to the park, and they have fucking tea parties with his scary ass cat, and yet he has to ask me how you are. What's up with that?”

“I didn't know any of that, Warren.”

“Well, now you do.”

“It's what he wanted. Four months. I tried, but…” I stop, because everything I could say sounds weak. It is what he asked for.

But he also asked why I hadn't emailed him when I was there that night Eleanor was missing.

He clung to me like I wanted him to. He deflected as soon as it started to get real, like he always does, and it pissed me off.

“I want him, War.”

“Good. So act like it.”

To: EBStyles