Something passes over his face before he shakes his head. “Okay. I’ll go get some sheets and stuff.”
“Thank you.” I smile tightly and follow him back into the house. Mason lays a fresh sheet over the couch and grabs a couple of pillows and a big blanket. I’m surprised he has a stock of fresh linen.
“Thanks again,” I tell him.
“Of course. If you need anything, please make yourself at home.” We’re both avoiding each other's eyes as an awkwardness settles over us.
“Well, goodnight.” I break the silence.
“Good night, Emery.” Our eyes finally meet, and we’re doing this weird dance. Are we hugging, high-fiving? After what feels like thirty seconds of doing this weird robot dance, he sticks out his hand for me to shake. Slowly, I put my hand in his and shake it, trying my best not to laugh.
Mason closes his eyes, turns around, and walks to his bedroom, and I silently laugh at him. That was the first time I was able to see his nervousness first-hand, and it was kind of adorable. Laying on his couch, I’m expecting to be awake for hours, begging to fall asleep. But much to my surprise, I’m out within minutes.
balter—to dance gracelessly,
without particular art or skill,
but perhaps with some enjoyment
Mason
I haven’t slept a wink, tossing and turning the entire night, knowing she’s out on my couch. I haven’t had a woman sleep at my house in a long time. It just wasn’t my MO. But the one girl to catch my eye in God knows how long is sleeping in my living room. This was not my intention when I invited her over. I expected a movie or two, and then she’d want to leave. I didn’t expect to get my ass handed to me in Mario Kart before playing COD. And I absolutely didn’t expect to be snowed in. Looking at the clock, it’s six a.m. I would make breakfast, but I don’t want to wake her up. Finally, I whip the covers off me, get out of bed, and shower in my master bathroom. Thirty minutes later, I hear movement in the living room, so I quietly walk out to see her sitting on the couch, scrolling through her phone. When Emery sees me, she sits up but looks down and hides her face. Not a lick of makeup on and she looks stunning. Those big brown eyes are beaming whether she likes it or not.
“Good morning,” I tell her as I pass by and into the kitchen.
“Good morning.” Her sleepy voice shoots blood straight to my dick. Once I’m behind the counter, I discreetly adjust myself, starting a pot of coffee.
“How’d you sleep?” I ask her.
“Surprisingly well. Your couch is hella comfy.”
I chuckle. “Well good. Want some breakfast?”
“I should probably get going. I’m supposed to help my mom with Christmas shopping today.”
Even though I expected her to deny, the thud of disappointment in my chest when she says no takes me by surprise. She stands and looks out the window before coming to the kitchen and leaning on the counter.
“On second thought, whatcha got.”
“I take it the roads are still covered?”
“That’s an understatement.” She smiles softly, and her subtle beauty is alarming. Emery’s hair is thrown on top of her head in a bun, and her sleepy eyes make me freeze in place. I’m staring at her like a lunatic. “Is there something on my face?”
She starts wiping her cheeks, and I clear my throat. “No, sorry. What do you like? Eggs? French Toast? Waffles?”
“Yes.” She smiles. “I’m not picky. I’ll have what you have.” Her sweet smile catches me off guard. Having her here in my kitchen, freshly awake this early in the morning, is catching me off guard. Pushing my unease to the side, I get out eggs, veggies, and everything else I need for stuffed omelets and fruit.
“Can I help you?” Her soft voice warms the skin down the back of my neck, even though she’s six feet away.
“Want to cut the fruit?” I smile back at her as I cut the veggies for the omelet.
“I’d love to.” She smiles and washes her hands before grabbing a knife from where they are on the counter. Drying my hands, I unlock my phone and turn on the first radio station on Apple Music. What You Want by Mase plays, and Emery’s hips start to sway.
She gasps. “Oh my God, I love this song!”
Laughing, I turn it up, and we both sing it at the top of our lungs, word for word, moving back and forth. She tries to do this side-to-side shuffle move with her feet, and I can’t hold back my laughter.
“Emery, I have no doubt you are talented in many areas, but whatever you just did was not one of them.”
She flips me off over her shoulder, and I can’t help but chuckle. This feels so normal as if we’ve done this a hundred times. We move effortlessly around each other as I cook, and she finds the plates and utensils, setting up as I finish. Just as she sits, I plate our food and sit next to her.
“Thank you so much. This looks amazing.” Her eyes are wide, and her stomach growls on cue. Emery shrugs with a cute smirk. “Told you.”
“Tell me something that would surprise me about you,” I ask her between bites.
Emery ponders it for a minute. “I’ve never smoked. I would say I’ve never drank, but I got tanked a few months ago. That’s it though.”
“I’m more surprised you got tanked.”
She hits my arm, and I laugh before she returns the question. “What about you?”
“Hmm…I’m a big romantic. I love love. But I’m pretty selective on who I give that to.”
“Really?” She looks shocked.
“Don’t look so surprised.” I roll my eyes for effect.
“I don’t know why that surprises me, but it does. I was expecting you to be the bad playboy who refutes love at every corner,” she scoffs.
“Wow, I’m flattered. Please tell me how highly you think of me.” I tease her.
Emery barks out a laugh. “I’m sorry. That came out really bad.”
“I don’t think there was a way for that sentence to come out good, is there?” I tease her, and this time, she rolls her eyes. I ask her again, desperate for anything and everything Emery. “Your turn.”
She thinks for a while. “Well, I forget anything remotely interesting about me once someone asks me.”
“I was going to say something similar on my next turn.” I wink. “Tell me something you wish you could change.”
“Oh, digging deep, I see. Um. Not to get all heavy and serious, but it’s been the worst year of my life, and I would give anything to change it.” She looks down at her plate, moving the food around, biting her lip. All it took was that one sentence to punch me in the gut. Guilt twists into my stomach like a knife.
“What happened?” I ask, treading softly.
She clears her throat and tries to speak before shaking her head. “Sorry. I haven’t really talked about this with anyone other than family.”
“It’s okay. Only share what you’re comfortable with when you’re ready. But just know I’m always a listening ear.”
Emery’s mouth twists to the side. “It’s been almost six months, I should be able to talk about it by now.” She takes a deep breath while I lose mine. “I was married. My husband died in a car accident.”
“Jesus, Emery.” I set my fork down and turn my body towards her, lifting her chin with my fingers. Her eyes find mine, and they are full to the brim with tears waiting to fall. “I’m so sorry.” More than you’ll ever know.
“Thank you.” She smiles sadly and sniffs, shaking her head in an attempt not to cry.
“Emery, I—”
Just as I’m about to tell her, Emery’s phone rings, and it catches her attention. “Oh, I have to take this, one sec.”
Nodding my head, she walks away, and I put my head in my hands, feeling like a complete wreck. A few minutes later, she comes back. “Sorry, my mom was letting me know she’s going to order online as much as she can since they’re snowed in too.”
“Oh, that worked out good.”
“It did.” She smiles and sits back down. “What were you
going to say?”
Do it. Now’s your chance. “I—I was going to let you know that you can talk about him as much as you want, whenever you want. Don’t ever feel like you can’t mention him or memories of you and him to me.” Coward. You’re a damn coward.
Emery’s head snaps to mine. “Really?”
“Of course. He was a big part of your life. Don’t ever feel like you can’t share that with me.” I take another bite of food to make sure the pain I feel on the inside doesn’t show on the outside.
“That really means a lot, Mason. Thank you.”
“That’s what friends are for.” I smile at her, but it doesn’t meet my eyes.
I just made this ten times harder.
demiurgic—cosmically creative
Emery
Mason: Are you still avoiding me?
Me: What? I’m not avoiding you.
Mason: Says the girl who’s left me on read for three days.
Mason: And no. I’m not ashamed of double texting.
Me: I’m sorry. I’ve had to take some time the last couple days.
Mason: Do you want to talk about it?
Me: Honestly, I’ve been trying to work through my guilt. It’s been consuming me.
Mason: Guilt over what?
Me: Staying at your house. My husband just died not that long ago.
Mason: I understand that. You’ve been committed to him for how long? Years? It’s uncommon and foreign territory. But, Emery, don’t beat yourself up. Nothing happened. If anything, something worse could have happened to you if you tried to leave.
Mason: There are no guarantees in this life, which I’m sure you’re well aware of. We’re friends. Nothing happened. You have nothing to feel guilty or ashamed of. You are an exceptional woman. Don’t forget that.
Me: Thank you.
Mason: Of course.
Me: What do you want for Christmas?
Mason: Nothing.
Mason: Or to spend time with my friend. I need to redeem myself at Mario Kart.
Me: You’re going to make this hard, I see.
Mason: I feel like I made it pretty simple.
Me: I’m rolling my eyes.
Mason: I can picture it now. I’m not surprised either.
Me: I’m falling asleep. Think about something you actually want for Christmas. Otherwise I’m not responsible for what I get you.
Mason: Let your mind run wild, little bird.
Me: Good Lord. Goodnight, weirdo.
Mason: Emery?
Me: Yeah?
Mason: Smile like that some more, okay?
Me: Goodnight, Mase.
Mason: Goodnight, Em.
eutony—the pleasantness of a word’s sound
Emery
The sound of my phone's ringer loudly blaring wakes me up. I’m disoriented and disheveled, frantically looking for the source of the rude awakening. I finally find it in the sea of blankets on my bed and see Mason’s name.
“Hello?” My voice cracks.
“Oh, I like your sleepy voice.”
“Huh?” I think I’m still half asleep.
“I said Merry Christmas, you filthy animal!” He yells it in my ear so loud I have to pull the phone away.
“Why do you have so much energy?” My head falls back against the pillow, and I throw my arm over my eyes.
“It’s Christmas, fool.”
“I know that. It still doesn’t explain why you’re calling me at six in the morning.”
“Because I’m freezing my ass off. Go check your front step.”
That catches my attention.
“What?” I ask with a perkiness to my tone.
“Ah, there she is.” He chuckles. “Go check your front step.”
“Okay, hang on a sec. It’s cold as balls.”
“How cold are balls?”
“Shut up, Mason.”
“Be nice. Or I’ll take back your present.”
“Okay, okay.” My feet slide into my cozy slippers, and I throw on Derek’s robe before unlocking my front door to see a big red box with a black bow wrapped around it, but no Mason in sight.
I squeal as I pick it up with the phone lodged between my shoulder and ear. “What is it?”
“You’re the one holding it, silly. You tell me.”
I love gifts. A smile takes over my face as I unwrap it, hearing it clank around in there, whatever it is. Ripping open the cardboard, I throw out the bubble wrap and see a complete gardening set—seed, tools, gloves, everything I could need.
“Mason, are you kidding me? This is amazing! Thank you so much!”
I can hear his smile through his tone. “Of course. You deserve it, Emery Jean.”
“Dang, I wish I would’ve known you were coming. I would have given you your gift.”
“You better not have gotten me one.” His suddenly stern voice is an attempt to intimidate me.
“You don’t think I would buy for everyone and not my best friend, right?”
“That’s what I was hoping. Spend your money on you. I told you, I just like spending time with you.” His voice rattles off in shyness at the end, and a smile tugs at my mouth.
“It’s Christmas, Mason. You’re going to accept my present. What are your plans today? Can I drop it off after my family's Christmas?”
“Yeah. I’m heading to my parent’s house in a little bit, and then I’ll be home.”
“Perfect. I’ll get ahold of you in a little bit then.”
“Sounds good.”
“Thank you so much, Mason. This is so thoughtful.”
“I’d buy you a whole damn garden if I could, but it would defeat your purpose. If there is anything else you need, tell me. I want you to have everything you need when you start.”
“You’re too much.”
“Nah. Not for you.”
I bite my lips to stop the smile. “Merry Christmas, Mason.”
“Merry Christmas, Emery Jean.”
I hang up the phone and look through the huge box of goodies Mason got me. The pastel colored gardening tools are adorable, and he got about every vegetable and fruit they sold. I can’t believe he did this. Sighing, I make a cup of coffee and sip it, letting the quietness of the morning seep in.
“Merry Christmas, D.”
Merry Christmas, my love.
Closing my eyes, I smile as I feel his presence. “I love you something fierce, Derek Sutton.”
I love you more, Emery Jean.
My eyes are still shut, but I feel the trail of a tear fall down my cheek. Taking a deep breath, I try to get my emotions under control. Today may be the first Christmas without him, but I want to make it good. I want to honor him. I hop in the shower and get ready for Christmas with my family, but I realize I didn’t check the mail yesterday. It’s way too cold and snowy to walk up there, so I grab it when I leave. And my anxiety washes away when I see the familiar envelope. Quickly, I hop back in my car, letting the warm blast of air through the vents warm my red cheeks as I rip open the envelope. The linen paper in my hands brings me peace, just like it has every other time—it doesn’t get old.
Christmas, huh? The last good Christmas I had was as a child, so for the first time in my life, I’m looking forward to this one. I’ve been strung out or passed out every other one since then. My family deserves better than that. I’ve been saving all my extra money to get them something good. Is it weird that I’m nervous? Life isn’t nerve-wracking anymore. Now that my mind isn’t constantly bogged down by figuring out how to get my next high, I feel clear. Light. Like I have…time.
I took up working out for a hobby. It’s a good stress reliever, and I’ve met some pretty cool guys. Maybe a girl or two…
Just know I’ll be thinking of you on Christmas. I can’t imagine how different it’ll be.
You’ll get through it, and you’ll be better for it tomorrow.
I smile and hold the letter to my chest before tucking it away, a reminder to write back later. With a backseat full of gif
ts, I head to my parent’s house, and upon arriving, the front door opens before I get out of the car. Drew comes barreling out, followed by my mom and dad. She plows into me, squeezing me tight.
“Merry Christmas!” she says loud enough for everyone to hear before she whispers into my ear, “If you ever leave me alone with mom the morning of Christmas ever again, I’ll cut you.”
My body shakes with laughter, and I hug her back. “Rough start, I take it?”
She pulls away and whispers, “You have no idea.”
Mom and dad are by us a few seconds later, and they hug me.
“Hey, kiddo, Merry Christmas.” My dad kisses my head before he grabs the gifts out of my car. “Hey kid, who’s Mason?”
My heart drops. “Oh, um. I picked that up for a friend of a friend. It’s nothing.” My eyes are wide, and he clearly doesn’t believe me as his eyes study me carefully. My smile pleads for him not to ask any more questions.
Drew whispers again, “You have a lot of explaining to do.”
“Shut up, shut up, shut up.” I sing-song back to her with a smile still plastered on my face.
Not long after my arrival, my aunts, uncles, grandparents, and cousins come over. We eat, exchange gifts, and do a few hefty competitive games of Spoons, Mad Gab, and Catchphrase. Our family has always been close, and I’m thankful for that because the love they are showering me with today has been enough to keep me distracted from the empty space next to me that should be filled. Everyone is watching the Laker game in the living room, and I head for the kitchen to clean.
My mom goes to stand, but I hold up my hand. “No, Mom. You sit. You’ve worked all day. Enjoy it a bit.”
She walks to me and kisses my forehead. “Thank you, sweetie. Love you.”
“Love you too.” I smile back and head into the kitchen. “Five. Four. Three. Two. One.”
Right on cue, Drew comes in with a mischievous look. “Okay, I’ve been trying to get you alone all day to figure out who the hell Mason is and why I don’t know about him. Spill.” She leans against the countertop with her arms crossed, hazel eyes drilling into mine.
The Best of Me Page 9