Page 111 of Emmett
“Emmett,” I say, pulling him back to me by his hand. I meet him in a kiss for just a brief moment. “I love you, too.”
EMMETT’S EPILOGUE
Three years later
“Ah! Shit,” I flinch, pulling my now-burned hand away from the casserole dish in front of me.
I lean in to give the food a good sniff and make sure that the dish actually turned out okay. Potatoes, check. Cheese, check. Golden brown on top, check. I was given two jobs this year: host and make the potatoes, and I’m pretty sure I just nailed it, despite taking an injury in the process.
At the sound of the front door opening, all five dogs careen out of the kitchen, barking and whining. The sound ebbs and returns as Nash rounds the corner, coming home from church.
“It smells like you might have gotten it this time,” he teases, leaning over to press a kiss to my lips.
“How’s God doing?” I ask him.
“He’s good,” he answers with a laugh. “He says hi.”
“Was he there?”
“No,” Nash answers with a shake of his head. “It’s for the best. Christmas Mass isn’t a great time to meet your estranged brother.” As he pulls his coat away from his arms, he digs into a drawer and pulls out a fork. He scoops out a bite of the potato dish and stuffs it into his mouth, giving me a nod of approval while using the utensil to gesture toward the casserole dish. “Oh, yeah. This batch is delicious.”
“Helloooo, family!” Rowan’s voice sings out as she walks into the house, trailed by Dad and the girls.
As they round the corner, her smile lights up and she drops her bags of food to wrap Nash in a hug. Dad and Macie follow suit, greeting each of us, while Sarah stays latched onto Dad’s leg. It isn’t until I crouch down to her level and scrunch my face up at her that she rushes toward me for a hug.
“There she is,” I laugh, kissing her on the head. “Hi, Jellybean.”
“Well?” Dad asks, gesturing toward me. “Are you going to show us or do we have to wait for the Davises?”
“It still needs a couple days,” I tell him. I roll up the sleeve of my dress shirt to show him the vibrant oceanscape tattoo that wraps around my forearm, covering the long, raised scar that extends between my wrist and elbow. “A couple of spots aren’t totally healed yet.”
Taking my hand, he carefully rotates my arm to get the full view of the piece, giving a small nod of approval as he does. “It’s beautiful, Emmett,” he tells me with a warm smile. “Really well done.”
“The jellyfish was such a good call,” Rowan adds.
Nash’s hand drapes over my shoulder with a squeeze as if to say ‘I told you so’ and he tells them, “That was my idea.”
Emotion swells in my throat and I clap my hands together to send it away. “Hey, let’s get these kids loaded up on some sugar, huh? Santa brought a bunch of crap for them last night.”
Macie and Sarah cheer as all of us move to the living room, where they’re allowed to dive into the bowl of ‘candy salad’ that we set out for them, complete with a note from Santa telling them that his elves insisted he bring them someof their favorite food. Davis and his wife arrive shortly after, their presence announced by Davis shouting‘it’s colder than a witch’s tit out there! I’m fuckin’ freezing!’Sophia’s friend, Ava, is in tow with them, today. We brought her onto the Fowler Enterprise legal team last year at Davis’s suggestion because she’s brilliant, but as it tends to happen with our group, she became part of the family, too.
Rowan settles onto Dad’s lap as they sit on the couch. His hand lovingly rests low on her stomach, sharing a secret that they clearly aren’t ready to tell us yet. I consider teasing them because they’d both been adamant after Sarah that she was it, but if I’ve learned anything, it’s that life can have a sense of humor about those kinds of things. I smile as my heart warms for them, and I know that as soon as she can, Rowan will blab to me about it.
The girls fill up small bowls with a disgusting amount of candy before circling the Christmas tree like a pair of vultures on the hunt for their next meal. They have the world sitting at their feet and a dad who can’t ever bring himself to tell them ‘no,’ but they still get so excited about Santa bringing them something. It’s kind of nice.
“Don’t touch anything until Uncle Davis and Aunt Sophia are back,” I warn them. “I’ll go find them if you promise.”
Macie rolls her eyes with a flourish, but Sarah sticks her little arm up in the air with her pinkie finger extended and shouts, “Pomise!”
I wrap my pinkie around hers and give it a shake as Ava chuckles and asks, “You know where they are, right?”
“Of course I do,” I answer with a disgusted roll of my eyes.
My knuckle raps against the bathroom door and it opens seconds later with Davis poking his head out. “Yeah?”
“We’re about to do presents if you kids wanna stop making out and come join us,” I tell him.
“We’re fuckin’ actually,” he corrects me, “so if you could give us a minute, we’d be real grateful. I got a record to break.”