Chapter Thirty-two
Darcy’s car wasn’t in its usual spot, but lights shone in the window of her apartment. Emerson took the stairs two at a time and knocked on the door. When no one answered, she pressed her ear to it. She couldn’t make out anything specific, but heard the TV. Knowing Darcy wouldn’t leave the house with it on, she tried again. Still no answer. Would Darcy ignore her?
She turned to leave and had gone down the first couple of stairs when the door opened. She recognized Sara, Liam’s regular babysitter, standing on the other side. “You’re Emerson, right?”
Emerson smiled. Sara would be trained not to open the door for strangers. She was probably debating whether or not Emerson qualified. “I am. Hi, Sara. I was looking for Darcy, but I’m guessing if you’re here, she isn’t.”
“She went out. I’ve been trying to reach her, but she’s not answering her phone.”
Darcy always answered her phone, at least when Liam wasn’t with her. And Emerson guessed Sara didn’t call her randomly. “Is something wrong?”
Sara hesitated, glanced back into the apartment. “Liam’s sick.”
“Sick how? What’s wrong?” Emerson was in the doorway in a flash. She looked around, but saw no sign of Liam. “Where is he?”
“He’s in the bathroom. He’s throwing up.”
Without asking for permission, Emerson headed straight for it. She found Liam sitting next to the toilet, looking green and a little woozy. “Hey, buddy.”
He half-smiled. “Em—” A stream of vomit interrupted his greeting.
Most of it landed in the toilet. Unfortunately, it came in tandem with a burst of diarrhea. The sound came first, followed in quick succession by the smell and visual evidence all over Liam’s khaki shorts.
“Oh, God.”
Emerson turned to find Sara in the doorway, a look of horror on her face. She returned her attention to Liam. Whether it was Sara’s comment or his own realization, the scales tipped toward chaos and he began to cry. Without thinking it through, Emerson took charge. “It’s okay, buddy. You’re going to be fine. I’ll take care of you. I promise.” She looked at Sara. “Can you get me a couple of trash bags and a roll of paper towels? Then fresh underwear and a set of pajamas from Liam’s room.”
“Got it.” Sara seemed grateful for something to do that didn’t involve coming back into the bathroom.
“Okay. We’re going to get you out of these clothes. Do you think you can stand up?” Liam sniffed and nodded. Emerson started removing his clothes. “If you need to be sick again, aim for the toilet as best you can.” Another nod.
Emerson managed to get him naked and sitting on the toilet before the next round of diarrhea hit. She grabbed the trash can and handed it to him. As was so often the case with kids and stomach bugs, he spent the next half hour like that. Sara returned with the things Emerson requested, then disappeared. When Liam seemed to be done, at least for the time being, Emerson helped him into the shower. After promising not to leave him, she filled one bag with dirty laundry and another with trash. The mess wasn’t the worst she’d seen by a long shot. Med school had helped her build quite a tolerance.
“I finally got through to Ms. Belo. I told her Liam was sick. She’s on her way.”
Even if Emerson felt like she had things under control, that was for the best. Sick kids always wanted mom more than anything else. She wondered if Sara had mentioned her presence, but she didn’t ask. She wasn’t entirely sure she’d be welcome. She’d worry about that possibility later. “Great. I’ll finish cleaning up in here. Could you see if there’s any ginger ale in the kitchen?”
“Sure.” Sara started to walk away, but turned back. “Thanks. I’m glad you were here.”
Emerson nodded. “Me, too.”
Sara headed to the kitchen. Emerson found a can of disinfectant spray under the sink. She gave the toilet a spray and a quick wipe down. Not perfect, but an improvement. The water stopped and a tiny voice came from behind the curtain. “I’m done.”
Emerson helped Liam dry off and put on his pajamas. He looked worn out, but his color was better. “How are you feeling?”
His sigh spoke volumes. “Better, I guess.”
Emerson opened her arms and wrapped him in a hug. He lingered there. “Let’s hope the worst is done. How do you feel about getting into bed?”
He stepped back and looked down. Emerson feared he was about to puke again. Instead, he looked up at her with a mixture of embarrassment and longing. “Will you stay with me?”
Emerson fought to keep the emotion from her voice. Tears pricked her eyes. She blinked them back. “Not going anywhere.”
They met Sara in the hall. She’d found ginger ale and had poured Liam a glass. Emerson thanked her and took it. She encouraged Sara to hang out in the living room and wait for Darcy while she walked Liam to his room. Emerson got him situated in his bed, then sat next to him. Without a word, he curled up against her and put his head in her lap. Emerson rubbed his back gently, hoping he was, in fact, through the worst of it.
She heard the front door and the sound of voices. A moment later, Darcy was in the doorway and then kneeling next to the bed. “Liam, honey, are you okay? I’m so sorry I wasn’t here. And the stupid traffic on Route 6 was a nightmare.”
Liam sat up and offered her a weak smile. “I’m okay, Mom. I was really sick, but Emerson was here.”
Darcy made eye contact with Emerson, but for the life of her, Emerson couldn’t read Darcy’s thoughts. “It looks like she took excellent care of you, too.”
“It was so gross. I was pooping and puking at the same time.”
Darcy closed her eyes. “That sounds awful.”
“He was such a trooper about it,” Emerson said.
“Is that so?” Darcy put her arm on his leg.
Liam looked at Emerson, then his mother. “I guess so.”
“How are you feeling now?”
“Okay. Better. I’m glad you’re back.”
Emerson smiled. No substitute for mom. “How about I take Sara home so you can stay with him?”
Liam grabbed her hand. “Will you come back?”
“Emerson is supposed to be at her art show, tonight. I think she probably should be there.”
Liam’s face was crestfallen. “Oh, yeah.”
“I’d like to come back, if that’s okay with your mom.”
Darcy narrowed her eyes. “You don’t—”
“I want to. If it’s okay with you.”
Darcy looked to Liam, then back at Emerson. She needed to stop pushing Emerson away. She nodded. “Of course. If that’s what you want.”
“It is. I won’t be long.”
When Emerson left, Darcy turned her attention back to Liam. He sat on the bed, looking far more interested in her conversation than his stomach. When Sara got through to her, she mentioned that Emerson had shown up and was with Liam. On what felt like the infinitely long drive home, she wrestled with that bit of information. She’d fought it for so long, but Darcy knew in her heart Emerson would take care of him, probably as well as she could herself. “Are you really feeling better?”
He nodded affably. “I really am. My stomach hurts a little, but not like I’m going to puke again.”
She sat on the edge of the bed and ruffled his hair. “That’s good.”
“I felt fine and then boom. It was like an explosion. Both ends, Mom.”
“Liam.”
“I’m serious. It was the grossest thing ever. I pooped my pants. Like, seriously pooped them.”
Sara hadn’t mentioned that part. Darcy added that to the list of details of the evening. She needed to track down said pants for washing ASAP. She also had to acknowledge just how much Emerson had taken on in her absence. “Sounds rough.”
“I was kind of scared, but Emerson was cool. I’m glad she was here.”
“I’m sure Sara was glad, too.”
“She was freaking out.”
Sara was a great babysitter, but a sick kid would be enough to frazzle even an adult. Hell, it frazzled her. “I really am sorry I wasn’t here.”
He shrugged. “It’s okay. Emerson was the next best thing.”
The meaning of his words sank in. She’d accepted that she’d allowed Liam to get close to Emerson, and that he’d fallen hard for her. Only now did she realize how deep that feeling was. Sure, Emerson was fun and smart and cool to hang out with. More importantly, Liam felt safe with her. Knowing that made it easier to think about her own feelings, and where they might lead.
“Hey, Mom?”
“What, honey?”
“What was Emerson doing here?”
In the frenzy of the moment, she’d forgotten that’s what she’d been trying to sort out. On such an important night, it made no sense for Emerson to leave her show to stop by for a visit. “You know what? I don’t know.”
Liam made the face he did anytime he tried to solve a puzzle or sort out a problem. “Didn’t she have her art thing? Isn’t that where you went?”
“It is.”
“That doesn’t make sense, then. Didn’t you tell her you were coming?”
“I didn’t.” She hadn’t told her she wasn’t, either.
“If she thought you weren’t coming, maybe she came looking for you.”
“Maybe.” Darcy let that sink in. Along with the fact that Emerson asked to come back after dropping off Sara. The show was probably over by this point, but still. That’s where Emerson should want to be.
Liam nodded. “We’ll have to ask her when she comes back.”
“I think you should focus on getting some rest. Even if you feel better, you’re officially sick.” Liam sighed, but didn’t protest. That told Darcy all she needed to know about how worn out he was. “Do you want me to stay with you until you fall asleep?”
“I’m okay. Thanks, Mom.”
“You holler if you need me.”
“I will.”
She bent down and kissed his forehead, relieved that he showed no signs of fever. “Good night, honey.”
“Night.”
Darcy shut off his light and closed his door, leaving it cracked just a little. She went to the kitchen and looked around, not entirely sure what to do with herself. She leaned against the counter and tried to wrap her head around the last few hours—being the focal point of Emerson’s show, the fact that Emerson left to find her. And then there was the image of Emerson in Liam’s bed, with Liam curled against her. It managed to be both parental and sexy. Darcy pressed her fingers to her forehead. It’s how she imagined she’d feel about her wife, if she ever had one.
Before she could dissect that revelation, there was a soft knock at the door. Darcy opened it for Emerson and was greeted with a shy smile. “Thanks.”
Darcy shook her head. “I should be thanking you.”
“It was nothing.”
“Don’t say that. You saved the day. Even if you don’t think so, Liam does.” Darcy stepped back so Emerson could enter.
“I kept my cool. In the moment, I’m sure it felt like a lot more.”
Darcy chuckled. “Don’t underestimate the power of keeping one’s cool.”
“Fair enough.”
“Can I get you something to drink?”
Emerson smiled. “I’m good.”
She started toward the sofa, but stopped; she was too nervous to sit. Darcy decided not to beat around the bush. “Why weren’t you at your show?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“That’s why I’m asking.”
“It didn’t feel right.”
“What do you mean? Was something wrong with how everything was set up?” From the little she’d seen, it was flawless.
“No, not that. Everything looked great. It just…It felt like something was missing. Someone, maybe.”
Great. She’d managed to put a damper on one of Emerson’s most important nights. “Look, I don’t want to presume anything, but if it was me, I’m sorry if I in any way ruined your—”
“I love you, Darcy.”
Darcy blinked a few times and tried to decide if her mind was playing tricks on her. “What?”
“I love you. I’m in love with you. Liam, too, for that matter. And no big moment in my life feels right if you’re not part of it.”
“I…” The words were there, but she couldn’t get them out.
As if sensing hesitation, Emerson shook her head. “You don’t have to say anything. In fact, please don’t say anything if you aren’t sure.”
Darcy forced herself to look into Emerson’s eyes. She did love her, and she was absolutely sure. Darcy had no idea when or how that had happened, but to deny it would be a lie. She took a deep breath. Now was not the time to be a coward. “I love you, too.”
“Darcy, please don’t—”
“Let me finish.”
“Sorry.”
Darcy smiled at Emerson’s sheepish expression. “I didn’t want to love you. Really, I didn’t want to love anyone. Too messy, too much work. And then I met you—night owl, artist, up for anything you. Nothing about you screamed ‘looking to settle down.’”
Emerson nodded slowly. Darcy wondered whether she would agree with that assessment. “And then?”
“And then casual dates turned into more. You kept coming around. You kept showing up for me, and for Liam.”
Emerson smiled ruefully. “Not every time.”
Darcy shook her head. “I was unnecessarily hard on you. I thought that would make it easier, keep good boundaries. But no matter how hard I pushed you away, you never gave up or walked away. Tonight reminded me just how much that’s true.”
“Really, handling a sick kid is what did the trick?”
“That. And you left your show. Oh, and there’s the matter of that painting.”
Emerson looked alarmed. “You don’t like it?”
“I don’t like it. I love it.” Seeing Emerson with Liam may have made the mom in her fall in love. The painting did it for her as a woman. “It’s like you’ve captured all the best parts of me and none of the bad.”
“I painted what I see. Which isn’t to say I have some unrealistic, idealized vision of you.”
Not idealized. If anything, Emerson saw all of her. Darcy hadn’t realized how much she wanted that, or even that it was possible. “Emerson?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
Emerson’s smile spread slowly and went all the way to her eyes. “I love you, too.”
Darcy hadn’t given it much thought, but she imagined if she ever did say those words to a woman, it would be in some romantic setting. The beach, maybe, or even in bed. But here they were, standing in the middle of her living room, with Liam sleeping in the next room. Not romantic, perhaps, but for them, perfect.
Darcy closed the space between them and slipped her arms around Emerson. She took a moment to absorb the feel of Emerson against her. It had only been a couple of weeks since they’d last been together, but Darcy realized it felt like an eternity. She leaned in and brushed her lips against Emerson’s. One of Emerson’s hands went to her hip, the other into her hair. Emerson took the kiss deeper, her tongue inviting Darcy into a slow exploration of one another.
When Emerson finally pulled away, she offered Darcy a soft smile. “I’m sure you’re exhausted. I should go.”
Darcy looked at her hands, then into Emerson’s eyes. “Or you could stay.”
“Stay?”
Darcy chuckled. “Not for a sexual escapade or anything.”
Emerson ran a hand through her hair. “Of course not. I just…Liam’s here.”
Darcy laughed again. Emerson would have to get used to the idea of sex with Liam in the house. They both would. But tonight wasn’t the time to hash that out. “I know. And he asked if you’d come back. Even though he fell asleep before you did, I’m sure he’d love to see you in the morning.”
“I’d love to stay.”
“Are you sure everything is okay at the gallery?”
“Absolutely. They run it. Sometimes, the artist isn’t even there.”
That made her feel better. “Okay.”
Emerson nodded, but didn’t move. It meant a lot that she was waiting for Darcy to take the lead. Instead of saying anything, Darcy took her hand and led them down the hall. Emerson stood awkwardly for a moment. “Do you have a non-girly shirt I could borrow?”
Darcy pulled out a plain gray tee. “Will this do?”
“Perfect. Thanks.” Emerson undressed, leaving her boxers on and swapping her undershirt for the one Darcy handed her. She got into bed.
Darcy climbed into bed as well. She shut off the light and realized that Emerson was lying rod straight, leaving a six-inch space between them. She turned onto her side. “I didn’t mean…we don’t have to not touch at all.”
Emerson shifted and rolled toward her. “I’m totally following your lead here.”
Darcy smiled into the darkness. “Liam usually sleeps pretty soundly, but given how he spent his evening, I don’t know.”
“Darcy?”
“Yeah?” She wanted Emerson to stay, but she didn’t want it to be weird.
Emerson put a hand on her side. “I just want to be close to you.”
And with that, the tension melted away. Darcy moved closer and Emerson rolled onto her back. Darcy curled into the crook of her arm and slept better than she had in weeks.