Emma

 

Emma slipped quietly into her father’s sleek white apartment and released a sigh when it appeared she was alone. She hadn’t been looking forward to explaining where she’d been all night or why she was dressed like a lacrosse player’s chew toy. But then again, that would require her father noticing her—something that hadn’t happened since she’d returned to New York.

Still, Emma had expected Tara would’ve told her father how terribly she’d reacted to babysitting Colin, prompting another, “be a team player,” lecture from him. She tugged the hem of Will’s oversized hoodie down further, but it did little to improve her appearance. She still looked like she wasn’t wearing anything underneath thanks to the shortness of his rolled boxers. She made her way over to corner where her luggage rested sadly in a pile. She dug through her clothes until she found a pair of pajamas and then scurried to the bathroom to change.

Emma swapped Will’s underwear for a pair of her own only to feel immediately embarrassed about what to do with them. Did she return them? Keep them? Burn them? Ugh . . . why did she still have these feelings for him? It made everything so much more complicated.

She tugged on a pair of red plaid pajama pants, letting the worn-soft material comfort her. Emma looked at her reflection in the mirror. She’d intended to change into her own top, but as she stared at herself in Will’s hoodie she couldn’t seem to find the strength to take it off. It was so warm and cozy and  . . . Will. It smelled like him, or rather his Valentino cologne—a mixture of sage and mandarin, with a hint of spice. Emma was addicted to the smell and all the desire it conjured. She inhaled deeply. God, how she’d missed that smell.

Two days ago, even the faintest whiff of it would have filled her with anger and regret. But now . . . well now it gave Emma a feeling that frightened her even more—hope.

Will

Will couldn’t stop grinning. Things were going better than he’d hoped. He already had a date with Emma, when all he’d been aiming for was a full day without a fight. Today they’d managed breakfast, dishes and conversation without arguing or any mention of the dreaded winter formal. That was major progress.

He stepped onto the elevator on his way to meet the delivery guys with the new ficus Sharon had located. When the doors dinged closed, Will glanced up. The mistletoe was merrily swaying above his head and for once, it didn’t seem to be taunting him. Will felt his heart warm as he thought about all the times he’d ended up under it with Emma in the past few days. He believed in signs and this was a good one.

Emma

Emma was deep in her hangover movie marathon when she heard the keys jingle in the apartment door. Colin came bounding in with Hodor on his heels.

“Emma’s home! Emma’s home!” he shrieked practically tackling her where she sat on the couch.

“Colin, honey, inside voices please,” Tara called from the kitchen. “And remember what we said about personal space?”

Colin’s happy face immediately crumpled as he slid off of Emma, moving to the far corner of the couch. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“It’s okay,” Emma replied, trying to remember why she thought subjecting herself to an entire day with Colin was a good idea.

“Cool shirt,” Colin remarked. “My friend Will has the same one.”

Emma couldn’t hide her smile. “Yeah, I know.”

Tara came into the living room, arching a perfect eyebrow at Emma’s rumpled appearance as she noted the lacrosse hoodie. Emma stared right back, daring Tara to say something. She had no right to judge what boys Emma spent her time with after ruining her parents’ marriage.

Tara seemed to catch Emma’s hostility and wisely, her only comment was to Colin. “Honey, why don’t you leave Emma alone? You’re disrupting her movie.”

Colin pouted, but started to move from the couch.

“Actually, Tara,” Emma said staring directly at her aloof soon-to-be step-mother. “I was going to ask if I could take Colin out to the park tomorrow.”

Tara looked startled. “Really?”

“That is, if you want to go?” Emma asked looking at Colin.

“Best idea ever!” he exclaimed leaping back onto the couch to throw his arms around her neck.

Emma laughed. “I guess that’s a yes?”

“Definitely yes!”

“Good. It’s a date.”

Colin clapped his hands and bounced up and down, sending Hodor into a barking fit.

“Okay, okay. That’s enough excitement, Colin. Why don’t you go wash up for dinner. It’ll be here soon.” Tara waited until Colin darted out of the living room before turning to Emma. “We ordered dinner from Café China. I didn’t know you’d be home. Would you like me to call back and add to our order?”

Emma grabbed another slice of pizza from the box she’d ordered when her stomach began rumbling a few hours ago. “Nope. I took care of myself. But thanks,” she added without sincerity, since it was obvious that Tara had forgotten to consider Emma in the family dinner plans. So much for one big happy family, she thought bitterly.

“Will my father be home for dinner?” Emma asked.

Tara smiled tightly. “He’s working late. And Teddy and I usually go out for a late dinner once Colin is in bed.”

Emma snorted. Of course they did. Why would her father change his usual dinner plans with his precious Tara to spend any time with his daughter? 

Tara twisted her hands uncomfortably. “Would you like me to ask him to come home for dinner instead? I know he’s been busy, but I’m sure—”

“Don’t bother,” Emma interrupted. She turned back to face the television, done discussing her father with her mother’s shiny new replacement.

Tara tentatively took a step closer. “Emma? Thank you for inviting Colin out with you tomorrow. It means a great deal to your father and I that you get along.”

Emma glared at Tara. “I’m not doing it for you.” And for the first time, Emma truly meant it. Colin deserved better parents just as much as Emma did. She turned back to face the television until Tara got the hint that the conversation was over. After a moment, Emma heard the sound of Tara’s heels clacking down the hall, then the quiet click of her bedroom door.

Emma let out a breath and squeezed her eyes shut, silently praying for the strength to somehow turn this holiday around . . . for all their sakes.