Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Emerson
W hen I saw who emerged from the bushes, I wished it had been a bear.
At least a bear would've eaten me quickly rather than subjecting me to the slow death of mortification that was about to unfold.
"Oh God." The words escaped in a whisper as my face blazed with enough heat to classify as a thermal event.
Because there they stood—Mom and Aunt Victoria, wearing identical expressions that I'd learned to fear since childhood. Those weren't just smirks; those were weapons-grade "we caught you" grins that promised hours of merciless teasing.
"Well, well, what do we have here?" Vic's voice dripped with the kind of gleeful mischief that only comes from decades of practicing the fine art of niece-torment.
I tried desperately to fix my clothes, though I might as well have been trying to unscramble an egg. My hair probably looked like I'd stuck my finger in an electrical socket, and my shirt was... well, definitely not where it had started the evening.
Next to me, Liam was doing his own awkward clothing adjustment, though his partially unbuttoned shirt was doing absolutely nothing to help my ability to form coherent thoughts.
Those abs should have come with a warning label. Not that anyone was staring.
Okay, everyone was.
With the practiced ease of people who lived to create uncomfortable situations, Mom and Aunt Vic settled into the patio furniture we'd shoved aside earlier. They exchanged one of those looks—the one that made me feel like I was seven years old again, caught trying out Mom's expensive face creams.
I could practically see the mental high-fives and victory dances happening behind their eyes.
And because the universe apparently decided I hadn't suffered enough humiliation for one evening, a sound emerged from the bushes again. The snuffling grew louder until suddenly, an enormous mass of fur that looked like it had lost a fight with a leaf blower came bounding toward us.
The dog's tongue flapped in the wind like a victory flag, as if he too was celebrating my shame.
“Ah, and here comes the final member of our little trio,” Mom said, her tone almost gleeful. “My sweet little man-pup, Chewbarka.”
I let out a heavy sigh. Chewbarka was a point of great confusion throughout the family. The most notable aspect of said confusion was that Mom and Vic shared custody of him.
Chewbarka would spend one week with Mom and the next with Victoria, shuttling back and forth between their homes—which, granted, were just across the hall from each other—like a furry little diplomat.
They had a detailed schedule worked out, complete with pickup and drop-off times, and even a shared calendar to keep track of his vet appointments, grooming sessions, and playdates.
We often joked that Chewbarka had a busier social life than anyone else. But underlying the jokes was genuine bewilderment. Why go through all the trouble? Wouldn’t it be simpler for them each to have their own dog?
Yet, for reasons that remained a mystery, Mom and Victoria insisted that Chewbarka was the perfect arrangement. They claimed it brought them closer together and ensured that Chewbarka received double the love and care.
Chewbarka, true to his name, announced his presence with a series of booming woofs that echoed through the night. He barreled into the scene with all the grace of a wrecking ball, knocking over a potted plant and sending dirt flying everywhere.
His tail wagged so furiously it created a small windstorm, and he circled around Liam and me like we were the most exciting thing he’d encountered all day.
“Jesus, Mom, you had to bring the canine equivalent of a hurricane?” I said, attempting to sidestep the whirlwind of fur and slobber.
Aunt Vic laughed, clearly enjoying the chaos.
“Well, Chewbarka is never content to be left out of the fun. And you know how he loves to make a grand entrance.”
Liam crouched down, laughing as Chewbarka tried to lick every inch of his face.
“Well, hello there, big guy,” he said, ruffling the dog’s fur. “You’re a friendly one, aren’t you?”
Chewbarka responded with a delighted bark and promptly plopped down on Liam’s foot, as if declaring, this human is mine now .
I couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. As mortifying as the whole situation was, watching Liam interact with the dog was oddly endearing.
“So, Emerson, sweetheart, sit down. You still haven’t introduced us to your... friend,” Mom said, her voice dripping with playful suggestion and a hint of teasing that made me want to crawl under a rock.
I cleared my throat as I sat, desperately trying to regain some semblance of composure despite the circumstances.
“Mom, Aunt Vic, this is Liam, my lab assistant. Liam, meet my mother and aunt,” I managed to utter, my voice coming out an octave higher than usual because, of course, it did.
I felt like I was introducing a guest speaker at a conference rather than the guy I’d just been caught in a compromising position with.
Liam offered each of them a handshake and a charming smile that could probably melt a few polar ice caps.
"Pleasure to meet you both," he said, his voice steady and calm as he sat with us.
Meanwhile, my heart was doing an entire dance routine in my chest, complete with backflips and jazz hands. I watched in horror as Vic leaned forward, her eyebrow climbing up her forehead as she gave Liam that look I knew all too well.
"Lab assistant, huh? Is that what they're calling it these days?"
Oh god. My face was on fire. Actually on fire. I could practically feel my skin melting off my bones.
Mom was chuckling, giving Vic that little pat on the arm she always did when she was pretending to scold her.
"Now, Vic, let's not embarrass the poor kids." But I could see it in her eyes – that sparkle of pure evil enjoyment.
She turned to me with this soft look that was somehow worse than the teasing. "Sweetheart, we're just happy to see you... enjoying yourself. It's been a while since we've seen you with anyone."
Kill me. Someone just kill me now. I will literally pay someone to dig a hole and bury me in it.
"It's not like that," I protested, but my voice came out weak and pathetic. I might as well have been trying to fight off a tiger with a feather duster.
Then Liam—perfect, wonderful, terrible Liam—jumped in with that smile that made my knees go wobbly.
"Emerson and I were just working on a project." Those stupidly perfect teeth of his flashed in the light. Why did he have to be so... him? "But I'm glad to meet Emerson's family. She talks about you both all the time."
"Oh, does she now?" A smirk spread across Vic's face. "Do tell, what exactly does she say about us?"
I shot Liam my best please-shut-up-or-I-will-end-you look. He caught it and let out this warm little chuckle that did absolutely nothing to help my racing pulse.
"Just that you're both very... involved in her life." Translation: they were completely insufferable, but bless him for being diplomatic about it.
And because the universe hated me, that's when Chewbarka, with all the grace of a drunk elephant, launched himself at me, planting his dirty paws right on my chest.
His breath hit my face—a lovely bouquet of dog food and what I was pretty sure was roadkill.
"Chewbarka, down!" I tried to shove him off, but he just responded by painting my face with his tongue. Thanks, buddy. Really helping the situation here.
And there was Vic, chuckling. "Isn't he just the perfect icebreaker? No one can stay serious with Chewbarka around."
Mom joined in the laughter, clearly delighted by the dog’s antics.
“Well, Liam, we’re thrilled to meet you,” she said, still laughing. “I hope our dear Emerson hasn’t been…” she cleared her throat, “…working you too hard.”
For fuck’s sake.
Liam, who was now valiantly trying to fend off Chewbarka’s attempts to climb onto his lap, shot me a grin.
“Not at all. Chewbarka here seems to be the one working the hardest,” he said, scratching the dog behind the ears.
The dog responded by flopping over onto his back, legs in the air, inviting belly rubs.
I forced a smile, hoping it didn’t look too much like a grimace, and shifted uncomfortably, trying to dodge Mom’s penetrating gaze that saw straight through my feeble attempts at maintaining composure.
“We’re just... it’s the 90-Day Challenge thing,” I mumbled, feeling like the world’s lamest excuse generator.
It was like my brain had decided to take a vacation at the worst possible moment.
“And trying to get a sense of how our research participants feel,” I added, grasping at straws for a more scientific explanation.
But who the hell was I kidding? Both Mom and Vic had built-in bullshit detectors honed by years of dealing with the shenanigans of eight girls. They could smell a half-baked excuse from a mile away, and right now, I was serving up a smorgasbord of them.
Chewbarka, sensing the tension—or perhaps just spotting an opportunity for more attention—trotted over and plopped himself down next to me, his head resting on my knee. His big, soulful eyes looked up at me, seemingly urging me to just be honest.
I scratched behind his ears, grateful for the moment of distraction.
Mom leaned back in her chair, watching me with an expression that was equal parts amusement and wisdom, like she was enjoying some secret comedy show and cooking up wise words in that quirky brain of hers.
“Emerson, I know you’ve always been more comfortable with science than matters of the heart. But sometimes, things can’t be explained away so easily.”
She exchanged a knowing glance with Vic that made my stomach squeeze. Then she continued, her voice softening like she was trying to coax a skittish cat out of a tree.
“Love has a way of sneaking up on you when you least expect it. It’s not something that can be controlled or predicted, no matter how hard you try.”
I bristled, my logical defenses snapping into place like an overzealous bouncer at a nightclub. Were they seriously talking about the L-word with Liam sitting right there?!
“I’m not trying to control anything, Mom. I’m just trying to understand, to find a factual explanation for something that has so far been so... irrational and unquantifiable.”
Aunt Victoria sighed, shaking her head with the kind of exasperated fondness only an aunt could muster.
“Oh, sweet Emerson. Always trying to rationalize everything, to find a scientific answer to life’s great mysteries.”
She reached out, her hand warm and firm as it clasped mine, grounding me even as my mind whirled like a tornado. “But sometimes, sweetheart, the most amazing things in life are the ones that defy explanation. Love, joy, passion... those are the things that make life worth living, even if they don’t fit neatly into your equations.”
As if on cue, Chewbarka let out a soft whine, nuzzling closer and giving Liam a look that seemed to say, Help her out, would you? Liam chuckled, reaching down to rub the dog’s back, which earned him a contented sigh.
I bit my lip, my mind a chaotic mess of conflicting thoughts. This was the part where I was supposed to argue, to present a brilliant, airtight rebuttal.
Instead, I glanced at Liam. His reassuring smile and the warmth in his eyes melted my resolve faster than ice cream on a summer sidewalk.
"Well, we'd better get on with our walk." Mom and Vic rose from their seats in this creepy synchronized motion they'd perfected over years of tag-team embarrassment. They smoothed their clothes with prim little gestures, like they weren't about to continue tromping through the mud with an overexcited furball of a dog.
I knew that move. It was their signature “we've accomplished our mission” exit strategy. I'd seen it approximately eight million times before.
"Yes, we'll let you get back to it." Vic's voice dripped with suggestion, her eyes dancing with the unholy glee of a cartoon villain. She was enjoying this way too much.
Relief started to creep in as they turned to leave. Maybe, just maybe, this nightmare was almost over.
Except, of course, not.
Because Vic—dear, sweet, evil Vic—spun back around like she'd just remembered the perfect finishing move in this wrestling match of embarrassment.
"Oh, and do try to keep it down next time, will you? We could hear you all the way from the garden."
Her grin was pure devil. Actually, that was unfair to devils. They probably had more mercy than this.
Heat exploded across my face again, so intensely I swore I could hear my skin sizzling. My ears burned. My neck burned. Pretty sure even my eyelashes were blushing. If spontaneous human combustion was real, I was about to become a case study.
"Noted," I mumbled through gritted teeth, desperately wishing I knew how to fold space and time.
Or at least had a remote control with a rewind button for life. Maybe in some parallel universe, there was a version of me who had smart, normal relatives who didn't live to torment. Lucky her.
Chewbarka, sensing the apparent shift toward departure, padded over to my aunt. He gave Victoria’s hand a nudge with his nose, as if to say, Time to go, ladies.
Vic chuckled and bent down to pat his head. “Alright, alright, Chewbarka, we’re going,” she said, still grinning.
“Just remember,” Mom, ever the queen of parting shots, gave me one last, patented I-Know-What's-Going-On-Here look before turning those laser-beam eyes on Liam. She did that slow head-to-toe scan thing that made me want to die right there on the spot, lingering just long enough on his unfortunately (fortunately?) unbuttoned shirt to make it clear she was mentally updating her future grandchildren's gene pool assessment.
"We're here if you need to talk about…" dramatic pause for maximum effect, "…anything." Because apparently, my mother missed her true calling as a soap opera actress.
As they finally walked away—Chewbarka trotting alongside with his tail wagging—a heavy, awkward silence settled over Liam and me.
He scratched the back of his neck, his eyes darting to the ground before meeting mine. The air between us was thick with a shared sense of mortification that was almost tangible.
“So yeah, that was um… not exactly the way I expected to meet your mom.”