I stare at him. “There's still the same amount of clothing between us. What was the point?”
“One, so you wouldn't be quite so cold and two, because I don't need to feel your bare skin if you're trying to fall asleep.” It's like a thought hits him and he adds, “Is there a chance you'll get sick again?”
“Don't think so. I don't usually vomit either though.”
He pulls me against him. “Let's hope you're done then.”
“Thanks for tonight, Emerson.”
“You're welcome. And FYI, I want to ban you from alcohol. You two don't seem like a good mix.”
I wonder if he's talking about tonight, my history, or both. “Agreed. Now shut up so I can sleep.”
He chuckles, kisses my temple, and I get closer to falling asleep as I take deep breaths, inhaling his fresh, clean scent. This apartment, this bedroom, this bed, in his arms is my favorite place to be. At first, I thought his place was bare and didn't show much about himself, but I think it really does. He himself is a fairly simple guy, but he's thoughtful and considerate as showcased by the extra comforter and the toothbrush he bought me. He may not have any photos of us hanging up, but my presence is scattered throughout the rooms. He doesn't put away my things when I'm not here. He leaves them out, as if he's keeping pieces of me here when I'm not.
Emerson warms me up as I get drowsier by the moment. I love his apartment. I love being here with him.
“I want to move in,” I absentmindedly breathe the thought in my head, falling asleep as the last word leaves my mouth.
DID I HEAR her correctly? She wants to move in with me? Didn't we talk about this and say not yet? Maybe Drunk Eva wants to move in while Sober Eva doesn't. I mean, Drunk Eva also wanted to have sex in my truck and she's never mentioned doing that before. I wonder if she'll even remember saying it in the morning because she fell asleep so quickly after saying it. It takes me forever to fall asleep as I debate if I need to bring it up in the morning. Either way, it cements what I planned to do this weekend anyway.
When I wake up, Eva's already awake.
“I'm so sorry,” she says. For a moment, I'm disappointed that she's awake. I love being up before her and watching her go from groggy to her normal self.
“Could have been worse.”
“How?” she asks incredulously.
“You could have thrown up in Sweet Irene. I'd rather it be me.” She watches me for a moment and I can tell she doesn't believe me, but I mean it. I rather clean myself up than have to clean that out of my truck. “Anything else you want to discuss from yesterday?”
Her eyes squint for a moment. “No. Wait, should I? Oh God, please tell me I didn't do anything else embarrassing? The only other thing I can think of is saying we should pop Sweet Irene's cherry.” She starts laughing. “That wouldn't have been so bad though.”
Ah, so she doesn't remember. I make the impulsive decision not to bring it up. “That was when I knew I needed to get you home,” I say.
“Good thinking.” She's quiet for a minute before she speaks again. She looks up at me, resting her chin on my shoulder. “Has Kelly called lately?”
“Not since I kind of went off on her.”
Eva sits up, propping herself up on one arm. “What are you talking about?”
“That Sunday when you made Glen take me back home? She called after the football game, but I didn't answer and I deleted the voicemail on my way to see you. Then, after you sent me home, she called again. I was frustrated, so I answered and told her to stop calling. She hung up on me and I haven't gotten another call since.”
Any time Kelly comes up in conversation, it seems like we take a step or two backward, and I have to work extra hard to return Eva to where we are in our relationship. Even now, Kelly for all intents and purposes is out of my life completely and she still manages to wiggle her way in. I grab the hand that's resting on her thigh, interlacing our fingers, and resting them on my bare stomach since the covers moved to my waist when she sat up.
“I don't know if I'll ever get used to this,” Eva says, speaking before I can.
My stomach drops, thinking she's talking about Kelly. “Get used to what?” I ask quietly.
She lies down, resting her head on my chest. “Us. You.” She breathes heavily, her hot breath skirting along my skin. “It's too much, yet the right amount.”
My head feels like I suffered from whiplash. I was expecting something bad, those two steps back that seem to follow us, but Eva's not having it this time.
“I know what you mean,” I tell her. It's like what balances us is constantly teetering, threatening to lean too heavily on one side and just when you think it will tilt over, we balance back out. Almost too much, but not quite. Those three words I want to say to her are on the tip of my tongue. I want to tell her, I want her to say them back, but most of all, I want to say aloud how much she means to me. “I have a surprise for you,” I say instead.
Eva lifts her head with a grin. “When do I get to have it?”
“Now, if you want it.”
“Of course I do!” she claims, her eyes slightly widen and her head tilted in a duh expression.
I lean over to open the bottom drawer of my nightstand. There it is, a key to my apartment lying on top of the mess inside. I pick it up, enclosing my fist around it so she can't see it yet. She's sitting up with her legs folded underneath her and the blankets cover her from the waist down. Her eyes are following my movements eagerly, trying to peek at what I have.
Clearing my throat, I'm suddenly nervous. With a deep breath, I exhale the anxiety and begin to speak. “You stay over a lot and I thought I would give you one in case you ever needed it.” I open my hand, palm up, the shiny silver key feeling weightless in my hand.
Eva's staring at my hand like this is a huge moment. God, is it? Should I have made a bigger deal out of this? I almost wish I gave this big emotional speech, but I didn't think this was a moment requiring one. She picks it up as if it's something precious and finally lifts those blue beauties to meet mine.
“Thanks, Emerson.”
“You're welcome.” We both glance at the key and I realize I forgot the keychain I bought for her. Shit. “I have one more thing for you.” This time, I get up and walk over to my closet. I was in a rush for work earlier this week and I tossed it in here. I pick up the bag from the floor. With my back facing her, I make quick work of removing the tag and throwing the stuff back into my closet. I hold it up as I return to the bed. It's simple. A silver E hangs from a chain. “E for Emerson or Eva,” I shrug, handing it to her.
“Thank you.” She slips the key onto the ring and smiles. “Does this mean I can come over unannounced and whenever I want?”
“You do that already,” I tease.
Her laugh rings out across the room. “Yeah, but this,” she holds up the key, “gives me permission.” Her stomach growls loudly as my phone rings.
The moment I see who it is, I know my day with Eva is about to be cut short. It's what always happens when it's work. I wasn't supposed to go in until two, but someone had a family emergency. I let my boss know I'll be there shortly to work yet another double shift. I can't complain too much. For one, it's extra money. Two, I told him I would work whenever he needed me. I'm his first or second call, depending on if one of the others needs to pick up extra shifts.
“You're leaving?” Eva frowns.
“Yeah, sorry.” I lean over to kiss her on the corner of her mouth before getting out of bed. “But you can stay as long as you want now that you have a key.”
Her lips lift a little. “That does make it better.”
A dip in my bed alerts me, but doesn't completely wake me up. Am I dreaming about those soft hands roaming over my chest? What about the hot, open-mouthed kisses on my collarbone and now my neck? The hands disappear, but my eyes immediately open when those hands slip beneath my sweatpants and boxers to wrap around the most awake part of my body.
Eva is straddling my legs with a
sexy smirk. “I officially love having a key.” She moves her hands to the waistband and begins to tug. I lift my hips to help her. Eva had to work yesterday too and she was tired afterward, so she stayed at the dorm. Her unexpected visits are always welcomed, but I can get used to those that start like this. “I woke up, nearly out of my mind with need thanks to a dream I had, so I came over. You don't mind, do you?” I'm now completely naked and she's shimmying out of her yoga pants.
“No, not at all.”
My phone rings and I groan. I swear to God, if it's work, I'm not answering.
“Don't even look,” Eva orders as I go to reach for it. She's naked and crawling up my body. She's a woman on a mission. Who am I to disobey? I groan as she strokes me. My phone rings again, but I barely pay attention as all my senses are focused in one place and on one person. “I'm turning it off,” Eva says, reaching over with her free hand to do so while not breaking her pace.
“Do whatever you want,” I rasp.
She grins, setting my phone down. “I plan to.”
It's not until a few hours later when we've showered, dressed, and are about to leave to get some food that I remember my phone. I trek down the hallway to get it, turning it on. Immediately, it alerts me of six missed calls. And they aren't from work, like I thought. They're from my mom.
“Hold on a sec, Eva,” I say as I return to the living room. “It was my mom who called. Six times,” I add with a frown. Something must be wrong. I sit down, propping my elbows on my knees, and running a hand through my hair, grabbing a handful because I'm already stressed. Mom answers on the first ring.
“Where have you been?” she answers, sounding as stressed as I feel. “I've been trying to get up with you. I need you to come home.” She pauses and then says, “And bring Eva.”
This is the first she's called since the shit went down with Luke. “What's wrong? Is this about what happened with Luke?”
“No, it's not. I need you home, Emerson, so come as soon as you can.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Just come home,” she answers with finality. Whatever is happening, Mom won't tell me until I'm there.
“Okay. We're on our way.” I hang up and glance at Eva. “We need to go see my parents.”
“Is everything okay?” she asks, repeating my own question.
“I don't know. She said she needed me to come home and to bring you.” My gut churns. “Something bad has happened.” I can feel it.
“Then let's go.”
The drive seems to last all day. I'm sick to my stomach over the ominous news waiting for me at home. Has something happened to my dad? My brothers? Someone else in the family? Thirty minutes into the drive, Eva scoots over to the middle seat and rests a hand on my thigh. I'm grateful that for whatever I'm about to face, she's going to be standing next to me.
The closer we get, the worse I feel. By the time I'm parking in my parents' driveway, there's vomit in the base of my throat, waiting for me to lose whatever's in my stomach. Eva slides out behind me and I take her hand, clutching it too tight probably. We walk to the front door and inside.
Mom and Dad both are sitting on the couch. The rim of Mom's eyes are wet and she's clutching a tissue in her hand. Even Dad's eyes look glassy and I've never seen him shed a tear. This has to be extremely bad.
“What happened?” I force myself to ask.
Mom rushes over to me and hugs me tightly. She doesn't answer my question. I'm about to open my mouth again when she grabs two envelopes from the coffee table and turns to us. “I'm supposed to give these to you. Then, you should understand.”
“Understand wh—” My words are cut off as I see my name on the envelope written in Kelly's handwriting. She would pass me notes in class all the time, so I can easily recognize her handwriting.
Mom hands one to me and one to Eva. “I don't know what they say, but I'm supposed to give these to you.”
We take them. Eva glances at me before we both open our envelopes. I'm assaulted by the view of Kelly's girly handwriting full of exaggerated loops and perfect circles over the i's instead of just dots. I want to ask what this is for, but I don't. I begin to read.
Emerson,
You are the love of my life. I could go on and tell you how much, or the exact moment I knew, or discuss our time together, but I won't. You know our history as well as I do. I know you didn't agree with my decisions, but I'm hoping to explain them if you're willing to listen.
In short, I asked for a break because I knew there was no way you'd accept a break up without an explanation. I wasn't ready to explain and I knew I could convince you to a break at the very least. It wasn't fair of me, I know, but I've always been a little weak when it comes to you.
I wanted you to have time without me. To see other people so you'd know you could be happy without me. Based on what you said in our last call, my mission was successful. You've fallen in love with her, haven't you? Even though you said you could love her and be happy with her, I knew then that it was already true. I hope she's as perfect for you as you said. I hope you two live long and happily together and if things end with her, I hope you can fall in love again.
My intentions were to never call. But things here were looking gloomy and I missed you so much. I had to know how you were doing. I had to hear your voice. I had to know if you had moved on. I had to know if you were truly happy.
You were.
And I'm so, so happy for you, Emerson. It makes writing this letter easier. I asked for a break because...
Eva,
I'm assuming you know about me, who I am, because Emerson has never been one to lie or keep secrets. If everything has finally happened, Emerson is there with you, reading a letter too. I wanted to explain myself to him and to you because this is going to hit him hard.
My goal was to give Emerson space away from me. Space that gave him the chance of meeting someone like you and falling in love. He needed to know he could be happy without me because I knew I didn't have a future with him.
It hurts to say, yet it makes me so unbelievably happy to know he's in love with you. Maybe he hasn't said it yet, but I knew when he spoke of you, when he was so angry the last time I called, that he had moved on and was happy with you.
Thank you for making him happy. I almost wish I knew the story of you two, but I'm kind of glad I don't since I do still love him. He was always meant to be the person I fell in love with and loved for all of my life. But I wasn't who he was supposed to love for all of his life.
That's you.
As painful as it is for me, I wanted him to have someone else in his life for the support I know he'll need. When I was first thinking about asking for a break, I kept thinking, if he could've already moved on, then surely it would make it a little easier for him to deal with. That's all I wanted. To make this a little easier for him to handle.
This is where you come in.
He's going to need you because he's finding out that I've died. A month before I asked for the break, I learned I was sick. Sick enough that my parents, my doctors, and I knew without a doubt my future, my life, was limited and I had a countdown clock looming over me. I didn't want Emerson around for my final time. Call me selfish, but I knew I couldn't handle watching him suffering through it. His happiness is what mattered the most to me and I knew that if I let him stay with me, my last memories wouldn't be of his smile and his happiness. If I let him stay, it would take that much longer for him to find it after I was gone.
So, I asked for a break and prayed every day he would find someone to make him happy, someone who could be there for him when he learned the news, someone who could get him through this without it breaking him.
My prayers were answered in the form of you.
Please take care of him and love him as much as he loves you. Being on the receiving end of his love is a never ending high and there's nothing in this world that feels as good. Cherish it. Cherish him. He deserves it. And believe me, he'll return whatever you gi
ve him tenfold. Emerson's an amazing man, but I'm sure you already know that.
I hope I haven't caused problems between you with my calls. I just needed to know he was happy before my time here was up.
And he is.
Thank you,
Kelly
I finish reading just as Emerson falls to his knees next to me. The paper is cackling as it shakes in his hand. His shoulders are shaking and a tortured sob escapes his mouth, ripping my heart to shreds. I kneel next to him, wrapping my arms around his waist, hoping he'll accept my comfort instead of pushing it away.
He doesn't even notice me.
His letter is much longer than mine, but I avoid looking at the words. They aren't for me. His mom has returned to her seat next to her husband and they both look torn up over this.
God, she's dead?
What is this going to do to Emerson? What if he can't recover from this?
The letter falls from his hand. He doesn't pick it up, so I wonder if he dropped it on purpose.
“I'm so sorry,” I whisper.
My voice snaps him out of it. When he glances at me, my heart crumbles. He's heartbroken and I'm not sure what I can do to help. If I can help. He stands, my arms having no choice but to let him go, and he rushes through the house. I grab both of our letters and set them on the coffee table. The backdoor slams as I'm about to go after him.
“Let him have a few moments to himself,” his mother tells me.
That's the last thing I feel like I should do. Ignoring her, I follow him outside. He's hunched over on the swing, looking much like I found him after I caught the tail-end of their second phone call. His hands are in his hair, gripping tightly. He looks up when I'm about a foot away. His eyes are red, his cheeks stained with tears.
Emerson leans back and holds out a hand to me. That one action lets me know that no matter how bad it gets, things will be okay. I take it and he pulls me to sit sideways in his lap, burying his face in my neck as he wraps his arms around my waist. His hold is almost too tight, but I don't say a word. I sit still, stroking his hair at his nape while he cries.
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