Page 40 of As the Years Pass

And then he turns toward his house, disappearing into the darkness and downpour of rain, leaving me alone.

But this time… it doesn’t feel so lonely. Because I have a friend.

Chapter Sixteen

Adam

I wake up the next morning feeling better than I should. I’m tired and have a slight headache, but mostly I’m hungry. My stomach actually hurts, but the worst part is I remember everything that happened.

Waiting in the rain.

Cornering Emmet.

Touching his chest.

Getting so close that I swear I was going to kiss him…

Thank God I didn’t. I would have never come back from that embarrassment. What I did do was bad enough; it’s a good thing I didn’t push it further. But it always was difficult to hold back with Emmet. He allows me to be me, to do whatever I want,when I want. I’ve never felt more free than when I’m with him, and it seems not much has changed.

Though, now that it’s Saturday afternoon and the minutes are winding down, it’s hitting me more that Emmet is coming by my house to make pizza with me and the kids. I’ve spent the morning cleaning from top to bottom, fighting a pounding headache and nausea. I’ve done laundry, washed the floors, and even vacuumed the ceiling fans and dusted the cobwebs from the ceiling corners. The scent of lemon cleaning products was so bad I had to open the windows, then put down towels on the floor because the rain picked up and got in.

The kids helped me clean, which was adorable because I didn’t even ask them to. Judy vacuumed the living room and Ian dusted the whole house—in about sixty seconds, I think. Basically, he ran around and held out the duster, and whatever it touched, it touched. I appreciate the help, and told him he did a great job. He then went into his bedroom and destroyed it, after I spent an hour tidying it up, so I guess that door will remain closed while Emmet is here.

Judy had fun cleaning her room. She threw all her stuffed animals to the floor and organized them on her bed into a mountain in the corner. She fluffed her pillows and folded her blankets—the best a seven-year-old can do. The best part was the proud look on her face when she was done.

Now the house is spotless, and I have everything we need to make pizza—sauce, cheese, toppings, and different sorts of crusts. English muffins, bagels, croissants, and pizza dough. So it’s just a waiting game.

Emmet texted me yesterday and asked what time he should be here. I told him five. Then felt bad because that’s prime time at the bar, but he’d already told me he’d be here. Knowing Emmet, he’d rearrange his entire day to do something for me—or for anyone. He’s just a nice guy like that.

People look at him and judge him because he’s a big guy, but I think the term gentle giant was made for him. His hair is dirty blond and long, though it’s shorter than it was when we were teenagers, but it’s still always pulled back into a bun. His skin is fair, but he has a hard look at first glance. It’s not until you look really close that you’ll see how kind those blue eyes really are.

“Daddy, I’m hungry,” Judy says with a huff.

“Do you want a snack? We’re going to make dinner in a couple hours.”

“Can I have cereal?”

“Sure, sweetheart. What kind?”

“Apple Jacks!”

I get her a bowl of cereal, then check on Ian, who is smashing his cars together in his room quietly, save for the little explosion noises. Those little things really keep him occupied.

Over the next couple of hours, while I wait for Emmet and try to keep my sanity, I busy myself with more cleaning and laundry—specifically changing the sheets on my bed. Before I know it, it’s almost five, and my heart is nearly pounding out of my chest.

I have no idea why I’m freaking out about him being here. We’ve known each other forever. We were friends for years—and much more than friends, my brain keeps suddenly reminding me. Emmet is a very chill person. He’s kind. He won’t come in here and judge me for the way my house is, even if it was a dumpster fire. That isn’t who he is.

If he walked in here and saw it trashed, he’d offer to help me clean it—or just do it himself.

So what the hell am I so nervous about?

I have no more time to figure it out, because my doorbell rings and it can only be him.

“He’s here!” Judy shouts, running out of her room and jumping up and down. “Can I go get him?”

She was thrilled when I told her I would have a friend over today to help us make pizza. Judy is a social butterfly and is friends with everyone. She feels that we all should be like that, and doesn’t understand why someone wouldn’t want friends all the time.

“I’m not sure it’s him, so it’s better I go down.” She groans. “But you can wait up here, and when we knock on the door, you can open it.”