Chapter 17 Em #3
“Oh, they’ve got it handled. My husband’s too controlling to let the media get a hold of what happened.” Kaye locks the phone and tosses it onto the cushion beside her. “Anyway, he can wait. I’m busy with my bestie and…our soon-to-be new bestie?”
My brow arches up at her question. Elle sits up, placing her hands on her lap. “Em, we’re hoping you’d agree to be our friend someday,” she says, gentle but sincere. “You’d fit right in.”
“Fit right in…?” I ask.
“Our perfect trio.” Kaye preens. “Obviously.”
“A trio?” I repeat.
“Yes,” Kaye says firmly. “Like the Powerpuff Girls.”
Frowning, I admit, “I’m unfamiliar with the reference.”
Kaye makes a noise of distress and lunges for her phone. “No way! What? Wait, let me show you.”
She unlocks it and scoots closer, pressing her shoulder against mine as she holds the screen between us. Her fingers type speedily until three cartoon characters appear, adorable with bug eyes and bright colors.
But Kaye’s phone vibrates again. A notification pops up. It’s from Big D with a preview of the text: “Keep ignoring me. More punishment awaits.” Kaye ignores it and tells me all about how she herself gives off big Buttercup energy, which again eludes me.
***
Moments later, our feet have been dried and are now in rather excessively fluffy slippers.
We’re in the middle of staring at Kaye’s phone, looking at the menu of their favorite Chinese takeout when Big D sends more multiple texts in rapid succession.
Kaye snatches her phone, snarling at it. “Oh my god. I swear he’s doing this on purpose.”
Elle tilts her head at her friend. “Damon again?”
“Yes,” Kaye hisses. “My control freak, clingy husband. Who is currently juggling the media while asking me to send him something he can jerk off to for some tension release of his own.”
Elle coughs, sounding startled.
“I’m serious,” Kaye adds. “He says it’ll help him focus? Ugh.”
The phone buzzes again. She pushes herself up from her chair and points down the hall.
“I need to take this before Dae fucks up everything and flies here for a fuck.” Her frown flips into a smile pointed at me and Elle. “Walk me to his study?”
Elle gets up. I follow. Kaye talks while we move down the hall, mostly complaining about Damon in ways I can’t quite grasp.
Probably because Kaye talks as fast as her swift feet move, and she mentions something that sounds akin to “cyber” and “sex”, which I’m having trouble comprehending.
How can one have sex through a computer or phone?
More questions come to mind, and I’d like to ask them, but we’re led into the home office Nil and I were in earlier. Kaye reaches the door and opens it without slowing.
“I’ll be in here,” she says, closing the door on us. “If you hear anything, you didn’t.”
The door clicks shut behind her.
Elle laughs softly. “Damon’s very devoted to her.”
I’m about to nod when I notice movement at the far end of the hall. A shadow slips back around the corner, quick and careful.
Elle follows my line of sight as she lowers her voice. “You didn’t imagine that, Em, but don’t worry,” she whispers, her brown eyes fond. “It’s Sterling. He thinks he’s being subtle.”
Then she turns to me, hands clasped loosely as she beams wide.
“Would you like to walk with me, Em? I’m heading to the nursery room.”
I gesture for her to lead the way. She does, and I step alongside her. We move down the corridor together. Light pours in through more tall windows, warming the off-white walls.
Rather curious, I face Elle and study how her eyes have recently returned to brown when I had read in her files that Clo had put her through surgery to change it to blue years ago.
She catches me staring, and with a smile, she points up to her left eye. “Colored contact lenses,” she mentions. “Makes me feel more like myself.”
“Mm,” I hum in thought, filing that as a note to update later into the Adels’ database.
We walk quietly for a while, until Elle asks, “So tell me about yourself, Em. I heard you’re a doctor?”
Nodding, I clarify, “A neuroscientist, to be precise. Though, I don’t prefer being called a doctor. I prefer simply being called Em.”
“And is that short for something?”
“Emira,” I answer. “It’s a play on words based on my mother’s name.”
Elle smiles, looking down. “Yes, I know about her. She was one of my father’s dearest friends. He used to speak pretty fondly of her. If my memory’s correct, they became quite close.”
My steps slow, only marginally and briefly, before I catch up to her.
She must have noticed, since she slows to a stop and lifts her gaze to mine. “I’m sorry, did I mention something I shouldn’t have?” she asks, frowning.
“No,” I quickly say. “I know about my mother’s past.”
Elle tilts her head a little and knits her brows at me. Her concern is palpable. It warms my chest that she cares so openly over a stranger like me.
“To be honest,” I whisper, staring back at her. “I’ve read files of what occurred to you. Your memory…”
When I trail off, uncertain how to phrase myself, she finishes for me. “My memory was foggy from Clo’s Kys, yes.”
She’s still smiling, even when we both know how much she had to sacrifice to survive such adversity, comparable to what her brother went through as well.
“But more and more memories are coming back,” Elle says. “Lots, actually, like what my father was working on, if that’s of any interest to you.”
“It would be,” I say. “Very much.”
“My brother thought so too. He told me I should come to you if I remembered anything useful.”
A subtle thrill courses through me at the thought of him doing that. Of him thinking ahead. Of him thinking of me. “That was kind of him to consider,” I say.
Elle appears pleased. “Yes, he’s like that.”
We resume walking, the hallway opening into a brighter wing of the house.
Sunlight spills through wide windows, illuminating a space in the middle of renovation.
While we move, I ask her about her name, specifically why she still goes by Elle when her file says she’s named after her mother.
She tells me she’s accepting the change in her life, and that the love of her life calls her Elle, so she wouldn’t change a thing.
“Accepting things as it is,” Elle tells me, “is part of the journey I’m on.”
Then she giggles, light and effortless.
“When Sterling says my name, it feels right,” she says with a soft smile. “That’s all that matters to me when it comes to my name.”
I smile back, taking note of her interesting sentiment. I suppose I can relate. I’m named after my mother too, and I cherish that thought immensely like a treasured memory.
By the time we reach the nursery, my thoughts are rearranging themselves around what’s been shared. This new insight’s inspiring me to return to the experiment.
“Here we are,” Elle says, presenting a spacious room without a door installed.
I step inside with her, taking in the pale gray walls, the open floor, and the scent of fresh wood. Along the far walls, four cribs are partially assembled.
“There are various cribs,” I note out loud. “Is someone expecting a multiple birth?”
“Good eye, Em.” Elle giggles again. “Kaye’s expecting twins. She recently did her ultrasound, and got inspired to buy these cribs, so our babies can grow up together.”
“Oh.” I smile. “That sounds like a lovely idea.”
“Yes, it’s always wonderful being surrounded by family and friends.” Elle walks over to the cribs. “That reminds me. Would you be interested in attending my birthday gathering?”
“A gathering,” I repeat, calibrating the offer. “Who will be attending?”
Elle considers the question as she adjusts one of the crib rails. “It’ll just be us, so the Song-Smiths will be there,” she says. “Damon as well. He plans on returning for it. I think Kaye bullied him to come back in time. He’ll be bringing the Adels with him too.”
Hearing Idris’ last name makes me think of him immediately. I’ve missed him. He must be working hard, patching up the failures I left behind in the ship.
Looking out of the window, I wonder about the pills he made me. I wonder if he ever thought I’d realize something was off about them.
Elle straightens from the crib and turns toward me, her voice quieter. “Em, is everything okay?”
I draw a measured breath, keeping my gaze on the wood grain of the crib closest to the window. “I’d love to attend,” I say instead, to redirect her unearned concern. “Thank you for inviting me.”
“I’m glad,” she whispers. “I really would love you to be there.”
I nod, rather distracted but trying to shake off the thoughts I was having over Idris and Kys.
Elle rests her hand on the crib I’ve been staring at. “What do you think of a neutral color for this one?”
Glancing over to her, I’m quietly thankful for the change in subject. “There’s a lot of gray in this estate,” I point out.
“True enough.” Elle chuckles as she taps her chin. “It does lean a little austere. Gray needs a partner, or it starts to seem lonely.”
“A partner?”
“Or two.” Elle smiles. “Complementary colors work well together. For instance, pale yellow brings warmth. Blue can bring calmness.”
Taking a moment to imagine those colors, I stare at the lines of wood that make up the crib. What a small amount of space for a delicate little thing to stay in. “Is green out of the question?” I find myself asking.
“Green would marry those well,” Elle answers. “I have a few swatches for that.”
She reaches into her pocket and pulls out several narrow cards, handing them to me. They’re arranged in gradients, blues shifting gradually toward green.
“Pure blue can feel distant,” Elle continues. “Green keeps it grounded. And when they meet, you strike that perfect balance against the gray.”
I study the swatches, surprised by how different each one feels despite the narrow range. My attention lingers on a blue-green that reminds me of shallow water over stone.
“That’s sage,” Elle says. “Do you like that one?”
I look at it again, studying the shade more closely. “Yes, I quite like it.”
Elle steps closer, coming to stand at my side. We hold the swatches between us, our shoulders nearly aligned as she angles them toward the light spilling in from the window. Her fingers hover over each color as we compare the gradients against the lightly gray walls.
“The sage is the perfect choice,” she says, tilting the card a few degrees. “Better for the light we’ll be installing in the nursery.”
I adjust the angle in response, watching how the color complements the gray.
Soon, heavy footsteps approach from behind us. Several people enter the room, dressed in work clothes, carrying clipboards and tool kits. They greet Elle, waiting for her direction.
“Oh, I should tend to this,” she says. “Thank you, Em, for everything, really. The talk, the walk, and for giving my brother and Stan a second chance.”
Her unexpected gratitude catches me off guard. I blink, my breath hitching as heat rises into my chest. I wasn’t aware I’d done anything worth noticing, much less worth thanking.
Finding myself at a loss for words, I can only watch her over my shoulder as she gets called to look over blueprints, and I turn to leave the room, following the sounds of Stan surprisingly cheering on Nil loudly in a room nearby.
Sterling slips into the nursery just as I step out. We greet each other with brief bows of our heads before he moves to Elle’s side, their hands finding each other as she directs the men in uniform.