Engulfing Emma (The Men on Fire Series)

by Samantha Christy

  “You’re ditching me for a jam session?”

  She looks guilty. “I have to practice, Brett.”

  “I’m just kidding, Bria, go. I’ve got this.”

  She kisses my cheek. “Thank you for dinner. You’re the best.”

  “No, you’re the best,” I say. “Just remember that when you’re singing for Adam Stuart.”

  She blows me another kiss on her way out.

  I finish the rest of my burger and go home, wondering if Bonnie and Leo are back yet. She takes him to a “Grandma and me” class twice a month.

  I think of leaving Leo to go to Germany. I hate to do that. It kills me to be away from him when I work twenty-four-hour shifts. But there is no way he could come along. Taking a two-year-old on a plane for that long a flight would be pure torture for him and everyone else. And I wouldn’t want to do anything to take away from the real reason for the trip—to find Evie’s father.

  I shake my head in disbelief once again. The woman I’m … fucking, for lack of a better term, wants me to go with her and the daughter whom she thinks I haven’t even met to find her ex-lover from high school.

  “Brett!”

  It's Emma. She’s is running to catch up with me. “Hey.”

  “Hi,” I say, continuing to walk.

  When I become silent, she asks, “Are you mad at me?”

  “I’m not really sure what I am, Emma. Do you know what I am?”

  It looks as though she’s having an internal battle in her head. “Listen, I didn’t want to get into a deep conversation right now. I just wanted to find out if you’ve given it any more thought.”

  “About going to Germany?”

  “Yes. Have you? Will you?”

  I stop walking. “It’s complicated. And then there’s the planning.”

  “There’s no planning,” she says. “It turns out Evelyn and my mom have been looking into going for a while now. They have all the flight schedules and have scoped out the best moderately-priced hotels. They’ve done all the legwork. Which is good since I have to go soon. Becca is getting married on the twenty-second, and I’m one of her bridesmaids, so I have to be back at least a week before that and then I have to report to work a week after her wedding. So, I’d pretty much have to leave two weeks from tomorrow.” Her face falls. “Oh, gosh. Can you even get time off on such short notice? I didn’t think this through. Do you have a passport? Oh, please say you have a passport. Go with me, Brett. I’m begging you.”

  “What did you just say?”

  She laughs. “Which part? I was kind of rambling.”

  “About when you’d have to go. Two weeks?”

  “Yes. Tomorrow is Saturday, we’d have to go no later than two weeks from then. I’m not sure we could leave any sooner than that.”

  “Two weeks from Saturday,” I muse aloud, remembering my phone call with Amanda a few days ago. “I think I can make that work.”

  “Really?” she says brightly. “You’ll go?”

  “As long as it’s two weeks from Saturday, yes.”

  She looks at me strangely. “Why that day?”

  “Because Amanda just informed me she’s coming to town that week, and she thought staying at the house with Leo would be beneficial.”

  “She wants to stay at your house?” She puts her hands on her hips, a sure sign of jealousy. Then it dawns on her, and she laughs. “You want to leave town while your ex stays at your house? She’ll be livid.”

  “That’s kind of the idea.”

  When she stops giggling, she studies me, and her face instantly sobers. “You’ll go to Germany, but only to get away from Amanda.”

  I look her dead in the eye. “You’ll sleep with me, but you won’t date me.”

  She kicks a rock off the sidewalk. “I guess we both have issues, don’t we?”

  “I guess so.”

  She glances at her place. “Do you have a minute to come in?”

  I look at my watch. “It’s only eight o’clock. Won’t your family be home?”

  “That’s the whole point. You have to meet Evelyn if we’re taking her to Germany together.”

  “And you want to do that right now?”

  My house is still dark; Bonnie and Leo aren’t home yet. I scramble to come up with an excuse. How awkward might it get, pretending we’ve never met? Will we ’fess up and risk Emma being pissed at us? I wish I had time to talk to Enid first.

  “Why not? It doesn’t look like anyone is home at your place. Come on.” She tugs on my arm. “I promise they won’t bite.”

  “Emma, I’m just not sure this is going to turn out the way you had hoped.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Nothing. Let’s go.”

  As we cross the street, I try and come up with explanations as to why I know Evie. Emma would be mortified to know that her daughter is aware of her nocturnal activities.

  She opens the door and we go inside. “Mom! Evelyn! I have someone I’d like you to meet.”

  “Back here!” Enid shouts.

  Emma leads me into the kitchen, where Enid is standing over Evie’s shoulder as Evie works on a laptop.

  “This is Brett Cash,” Emma says. “Brett, meet my mom, Enid, and my daughter, Evelyn.”

  They look at me in shock. I gaze at them in dread that soon becomes something else. All at once, the three of us laugh uncontrollably.

  Emma joins in for a minute, then stops. “Wait, what’s so funny?”

  I try to stop laughing, but every time I look at Evie, she sets me off again.

  “You guys! Tell me.” She looks annoyed at being left out, and we laugh even harder. “What the hell is going on here?”

  “Honey,” Enid says. “We’ve already met.”

  “You met?” she asks, confused. “What, at the store or something?”

  Evie and I stop laughing because this is about to get real. I nod at Enid, letting her know I want to be the one to tell Emma.

  “Emma,” I say apprehensively, hoping she isn’t about to take a swing at me. “I bumped into Evie the first night I, uh …” I look up at the ceiling where Emma’s room is. “The first night I left.”

  Emma slumps into a chair, horrified. “You what?” She looks at her daughter and then back at me. “And you call her Evie? Just how many times did you ‘bump’ into her?”

  “The first time was at the corner store,” I say. “So technically, we did meet there. But I didn’t know she was your daughter then. She thought Leo was cute. Then I saw her here and, well, we had milk and cookies and—”

  “You had milk and cookies?” she says loudly. “With my daughter? After we …?”

  “Not just with Evie,” I say quickly, so I don’t sound like a pervert. “Your mom, too.” I’m not sure that makes it any better.

  Emma looks like she doesn’t know if she’s going to laugh, cry, or scream.

  “The stairs are squeaky, Mom,” Evie says. “It’s not his fault. My room is right under them, so I pretty much hear it every time someone comes down.”

  “Every time?” Emma asks in horror.

  Evie nods. “It’s okay, Mom. You’re a single woman in the modern world. I’m not a baby. I know how things are.”

  Emma lowers her head until her forehead meets the table and then knocks it against the surface over and over.

  “It’s not that bad, honey,” Enid says.

  “What’s not that bad?” Emma asks. “That my twelve-year-old daughter knows I have men upstairs? Or that my mother and daughter have been sharing secret midnight snacks with him? Or, and here’s the real kicker—that everyone has been lying to me about it.”

  I feel guilty when she looks at me after saying that.

  “Come on, Evie,” Enid says, holding out a hand to her granddaughter. “Let’s you and I go for ice cream.”

  Emma and I remain silent until the front door shuts. Then Emma gets up from the table and stomps around the kitchen. “How could you do this to me?”

  “What was I
supposed to do when Evie caught me coming down the stairs, just ignore her like all the others?”

  She puts her face in her hands. “Oh my God, this is not happening.”

  “It’s okay, Emma.”

  “It’s not okay. Putting my daughter aside for a minute, you lied to me, Brett. Why didn’t you tell me you had met her?”

  “I suppose because she asked me not to.”

  She looks surprised. “Why would she do that?”

  “Because she doesn’t want you to think she thinks less of you for having men in your bedroom. Which she doesn’t, by the way. You’ve got one hell of a kid there, Emma. She’s smart. And she might know you better than you know yourself.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? Just what do you two talk about?”

  “Lots of stuff. Her friends. My job. Germany.”

  “She discussed finding her dad?”

  “She’s told me how much she wants to go, but that you think she’ll be disappointed when he doesn’t want anything to do with her.”

  “She will be.”

  “Of course she will, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try. There might be grandparents who want to be in her life.”

  “I’ve thought of that.” She sits back down. “I’m still mad at you for not telling me.”

  I take the seat next to her. “I was trying to keep the peace between you. But if I’m being honest, I might have been a little selfish about not saying anything.”

  “How so?”

  “If you’d found out, you would have stopped having me over.” I grab her hand. “I don’t want you to stop having me over, Emma.”

  She studies our entwined fingers. Then she looks up at me with a sullen face. “Even if it can’t go anywhere?”

  I think of what Bria said earlier—that Emma just needs time to figure out that she wants this, too. Because I have to believe that she does. I force a smile. “Yeah, even if it can’t.”

  “No more lies,” she says.

  “No more lies. Although I think of it as more of an omission.”

  “I’m not sure I can do it anymore, Brett. I mean us, upstairs, when I know Evelyn is waiting for you to come down.”

  “So you’ll come to my place.”

  She thinks about it. “You have a child, too. And a nanny.”

  “Leo’s two. And Bonnie’s discreet. And hard of hearing.”

  “She is?” She almost looks excited about it.

  “No. That was a lie. I just didn’t want you to feel self-conscious about coming over.”

  She laughs. “So, what now?”

  “I don’t know. I guess we have a trip to plan. That is if you still want me to go. Everything else can wait until we get back.”

  “We’re getting separate hotel rooms,” she says.

  “That’s a given.”

  “And I’m not leaving Evelyn alone in mine in a strange country to sneak into yours.”

  “I never thought you would.”

  “Fine,” she says, relaxing into her chair. “Then it looks like we’ve got a lot of planning to do.”

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Emma

  Evelyn is teeming with excitement as we board the airplane.

  “I get the window seat,” she says.

  I laugh. “You’ve only told us that a thousand times.”

  “Not if I get it first,” Brett says, pretending to try and pass us.

  “Brett!” she squeals.

  I find it fascinating that she calls him Brett and not Mr. Cash. Miss Manners would certainly not approve. But their relationship—it does seem to be more of a friendship than anything else.

  Brett has come for dinner a few times over the past two weeks so we could plan our trip.

  Dinner. Nothing else.

  Neither one of us has talked about how uncomfortable I am at the thought of him in my bedroom again. And he hasn’t asked me to join him in his. It’s been a frustrating two weeks to say the least.

  “Wow,” Evelyn says as we go through first class. “I wish we could have those seats.”

  “We could have,” I say. “But it was either that or your college education.”

  “We have great seats,” Brett says. “We got the ones with extra legroom so we can stretch out and try to get some sleep.”

  “You think I’m going to be able to sleep?” Evelyn asks as we get to our row and she looks out the window to see luggage being loaded into the cargo hold.

  “Believe me,” Brett says. “After an hour of seeing nothing but water, you’ll be so bored, you won’t be able to keep your eyes open.”

  Water. Him saying that reminds me of the video we watched on our last flight. We’re going to be flying over water for many hours with no place to land. Anxiety starts to take hold.

  “You okay?” Brett asks.

  I nod and try to think of something else to keep my mind off what we’re about to do.

  Brett loads our carry-ons in the overhead bin, and I stuff my backpack under the seat. Then I sit and put my seatbelt on. Tight.

  Evelyn laughs. “Mom, we don’t even leave for another twenty minutes.”

  “Oh, right.” I loosen the belt.

  He pulls earbuds out of his pocket. “I came prepared this time.”

  “Elton John?”

  “Nothing but.”

  “I brought mine, too,” Evelyn says. “Brett told me it can get loud in here.”

  “So loud you might not be able to hear someone scream,” he says with a wink in my direction.

  “Who’s going to scream?” Evelyn asks.

  “Nobody, honey.” Stop it, I mouth to Brett.

  “Oh, come on. You know you have to be thinking about it a little bit.” He leans in close so Evelyn can’t hear. “And I did make you scream. More than once if I recall.”

  He has no idea just how much I am thinking about it. Remembering what he did to me—what he did to himself—might be the one thing that keeps me from embarrassing myself with a panic attack. Well, that and some Elton John.

  “I think I see our luggage,” Evelyn says.

  I lean over her and look out the window. “There’s no way you can tell from here. They all look alike.”

  “No they don’t. My suitcase has stickers all over it.”

  “Well, good. At least we know it made it on the plane.”

  Brett looks irritated when his phone rings. “Sorry,” he says, showing me the screen. “I have to take this.”

  It’s Amanda. What if she says there’s a problem with Leo? Will Brett ask to be let off the plane? Would she go so far as to lie to get him to stay? I saw her brooding on the front porch when we left, calling after him and telling him what a horrible father he is for leaving his son.

  “I told you earlier that Bonnie knows this,” he says into the phone. “She lives there, in case you forgot. She knows where the sewing kit is, which, by the way is not an emergency, even if it is Leo’s favorite stuffed toy.”

  He doesn’t talk for at least thirty seconds, and I can tell he’s getting frustrated with her. She must be giving him another earful.

  “Amanda, we’ve been over this.” Another pause. “I’m not changing my mind. In fact, I’m already on the plane and the flight attendant is staring at me. I have to turn my phone off now.” He looks impatient as he listens some more. “Would you stop with the fake crying and save it for someone who cares? I have to go. I hope you and Leo enjoy your time together. I’ll text you from Germany. I’m hanging up now. Bye.”

  He promptly puts the phone in airplane mode, even though we haven’t been told to yet. “The woman never gives up.”

  “Why do you think she went so long without being interested in the two of you and now she acts like she can’t live without you?”

  “Because I drove off with two beautiful girls today, that’s why. It’s human nature to want what you can’t have.”

  “Are we still talking about Amanda?” I ask.

  “I don’t know. Are we?”

&n
bsp; I laugh at the little game we always seem to play.

  “Still, hasn’t she been a bit over-dramatic today? I mean it’s not like she just showed up on your doorstep and you walked out.”

  He looks guilty.

  “Oh, my God. That’s exactly what happened, isn’t it?”

  He laughs. “It wasn’t quite as thrilling as that. But I didn’t tell her I was leaving until she arrived this morning.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because more than likely, she would have changed her plans and come a different week. I did not want to spend a week with her up in my business. I love my son more than anything in the world, and I want him to have a great relationship with his mother, but that does not involve us playing house for seven days.”

  I try not to smile but fail.

  “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? You like the fact that I can’t stand my ex.”

  “It’s”—I try to think of the right word, one that won’t give him the wrong idea—“entertaining.”

  He looks at me like he knows I’m full of shit.

  My mouth goes dry when the flight attendants go down the aisle, closing the overhead bins, making me remember where we are. I pull out a bottle of water and chug it. When we taxi away from the gate, I tighten my seatbelt again.

  Evelyn puts a hand on my arm. “Hundreds of thousands of people fly every day. It’s safer than driving.”

  “So I’ve been told,” I say.

  “You can hold my hand if you want to.” She leans closer. “But I really think you should be holding Brett’s instead.”

  I give her a scolding stare.

  “Oh, come on,” she whispers. “I know you like him. And I know you haven’t had him over lately even though you want to. Probably because of me. You should let him hold your hand, Mom. He has strong hands, I can tell.”

  She goes back to looking out the window. Me—I can’t stop staring at Brett’s hands.

  I try not to listen when the flight attendants give their spiel. I don’t need to hear any more about cushions under the seat and water landings. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and grip the armrests.

  “Here we go!” Evelyn squeals.

  I feel hot breath on my ear. “Do you know how much I’d like to distract you right now? Oh, the things I could do to you.”