Chapter 21 - Em
Em
After a few days, I find that breakfast has become a relaxing routine for me.
This morning, the table’s crowded with plates and mugs, the air warm with the smell of toast and chamomile this morning. Conversation drifts. Tomorrow is Elle’s birthday gathering, and it’s rather evident that we’re all looking forward to it in our own ways.
I, for one, would like to try this ube-flavored cake they say was a hit at their wedding last month.
Sterling sits close to Elle, smiling at her with silent focus while she watches him. He breaks off a piece of buttered toast and lifts it to her mouth. She accepts it with a wide smile of her own.
Stan and Kaye are in the middle of an argument about balloon placement. Stan insists asymmetry gives it character. Kaye accuses him of weaponizing incompetence. Their voices overlap, loud and unapologetic, neither of them willing to concede.
Lix leans closer to me, until his arm touches mine. “You look beautiful, Em,” he murmurs near my ear. “I mean, you always look beautiful, but…yeah, wanted to let you know what I’m thinking.”
I adjust my glasses reflexively, finding myself nervous under his intense gaze. “My hair’s getting too long for my liking,” I reply. “My bangs, in particular, are starting to bother me. They’re right in front of my line of sight these days.”
Stan pecks a quick kiss on my cheek, skewing my glasses he fixes right away. “Nothing wrong with pretty things on that pretty face of yours, Em. You look perfect,” he says, then turns right back to Kaye. “And the balloons are absolutely going to be scattered across the garden!”
While Kaye groans, ready to argue back, I notice how little effort any of this requires.
No one is performing. No one is checking for approval.
Affection moves through the table in small gestures and practical ways—food offered, drinks poured, voices overlapping without friction, except for Stan and Kaye.
Though, I surmise they simply enjoy bickering with someone.
I catalog it all automatically, the way I do most things, and only realize afterward that I haven’t felt the need to withdraw or correct myself once.
As breakfast continues, the two men at either side of me fill my plate and cup. For a moment, while I’m sipping tea, it almost feels as if all is ordinary.
Then I hear the sound of tires on gravel. It’s far away, but I hear it clearly. Stan notices at the same time I do. His posture changes, attention sharpening as he glances toward the windows.
“Looks like our special guests just got here,” Stan says as he takes my hand and signals for Lix to follow, leading us toward the entrance.
My pulse picks up with every step. The air feels heavier the closer we get to the front door. Elle had mentioned that the Adels would arrive on her birthday, so if Idris is here, I’ll get to ask him the question that’s been on my mind. What’s in my pills?
We arrive the same time the doors open.
Darius enters first, frowning, as his gaze sweeps the space.
Damon follows closely behind, nearly obscured by the sheer volume of flowers he’s carrying. The bouquet is enormous—an arrangement of colors—so large it nearly blocks his broad chest and the lower half of his face. His eyes scan the room with intent focus, ignoring the rest of us.
Idris steps in last. He holds a relatively smaller bouquet, dark red roses gathered tightly together, baby’s breath scattered delicately between them. The contrast is striking.
So is he. My breath stops. I can’t force it back. Only some days have passed. Yet memories from the ship have felt distant for a while now. I suppose I’ve pushed them and Idris far away in my mind.
But now Idris is here, and my heart beats harder. So hard that I could count my pulse rate without needing to feel it under my fingers.
Stan squeezes my hand, and Lix slides his arm around my waist.
The three of us must paint an interesting picture, where merely a week has taken place, yet we’re a clear display of how things have changed in such a short amount of time.
Still, Idris smiles at me, warm and wide, walking over while holding out the flowers toward me. Lix takes them, looking between us before giving Idris and I space.
Stan pulls me closer to his side as he smirks at Idris. “How was the trip, Prince Charming?”
Idris chuckles, meeting Stan’s eyes. He’s about to speak when a high-pitched shriek comes from behind us.
“Dae!” Kaye shouts.
Her sprint brings her closer to us, launching herself at Damon. He catches her, the bouquet in his hands tipping to the side, as she wraps her arms around his neck. He laughs deeply, kisses her deeper, and adjusts her in his arms.
The sight sends a rush of heat through the room, or perhaps, merely me. As though no one else exists, Damon carries Kaye down the hall without breaking their noisy kisses. Thankfully, they turn toward their bedroom for privacy as her laughter trails behind them.
Sterling, approaching with slow steps, could rival Darius’ frown when his silver eyes dash from where the couple went, to where the Adels stand. He crosses his arms and lifts his chin in a nod. “Welcome,” he says. “My wife wanted me to tell you to make yourself at home here.”
With that, he disappears silently, sinking back into a barely lit hallway, most likely toward the nursery, which Elle has been working on with the renovators.
Idris clears his throat, still smiling. “The plane ride was smooth. Thanks for asking, Stan.” He turns his smile to Lix. “And thank you both for watching over Em. I see you’ve taken great care of her.”
Lix scoffs, the sound brief. He leans in and places a kiss on my cheek. “Anytime,” he says to Idris.
More heat gathers low in my body, my pulse skipping. I’m aware of Idris watching us. His expression remains composed despite the tension that’s amidst us.
“That’s good to hear,” he says, his smile unwavering while his light blue eyes survey over us.
Darius grunts, getting our attention. “I’ll need a private space,” he says, his frown deepening as his eyes point toward the hallway Damon disappeared into. Muffled sounds can be heard from their end. “Somewhere quiet.”
Stan turns, grin snapping into place. “Say no more, Dar Bear. Right this way.” As they walk, he adds, “And just so we’re clear, I accept flowers too.”
Darius glares at him, his tone flat and unimpressed. “I didn’t bring you anything.”
“Wow,” Stan says. “And here I thought we were becoming friends.”
“Don’t call me that,” Darius snaps, getting a chuckle out of Stan.
Lix snorts as he turns to follow Stan. He takes the flowers with him while his free hand reaches to brush his earring. He spares us a glance and a pursed smile before leaving Idris and I alone in the grand lobby.
“You look well, Em,” Idris says in the next instant.
I part my lips to speak, then decide to stop, when I feel my pulse thud in my throat.
The question about the pills—about them being possibly placebo—surges forward, crowding out every other thought.
“Idris…” I say, my voice giving me away before I can keep it controlled.
He studies my face as he prompts me. “Yes, Em?”
When his eyes meet mine, the space around us falls away out of relevance. I’m only aware of him. Of the way his attention holds, warm and patient. It’s as if I’ve been given permission to take as long as I need.
I’ve seen that look on him for so long, yet I’ve only come to recognize the meaning behind it. I see the same when Stan and Lix stare into my eyes as though they aim to pierce right into my soul.
They must know that such a thing is an impossible feat. There isn’t a soul in my physical vessel.
Despite that, my chest tenses, and my heart continues to strike a rattle within my ribs.
It doesn’t matter how I feel. The question must be asked. So I clear my throat, hoping that’ll shove down the sensation. “Could we speak somewhere more private?”
His smile stretches wider, as he steps closer, appearing ready to follow. “Of course, Em.”
I lead Idris to my room, and I don’t say anything while we walk. I don’t think I can trust my voice while I use this brief time to gather my thoughts.
He follows without asking where we’re going.
The halls feel longer with him beside me, but soon enough, we reach my room. He steps up to open the door for me, waiting for me to enter first.
Once I do, he’s right behind me, closing the door. My room looks the same as I left it earlier this morning. The bed is made. Light from the window falls across the floor in narrow bands.
Idris’ attention moves from me to the corner desk. The MedBay equipment has been sitting there, its cables neatly aligned, all of it connecting to one monitor.
He takes a step toward it, but I cross the room quicker, placing myself between him and the desk. There’s a more pressing matter at hand, an answer I’ve been aching to know.
“I wanted to ask you about the pills,” I say. “The ones you made for me.”
He doesn’t answer as quickly as he usually would, or perhaps, how I’d expect him to.
Idris always knew how to temper my mind when it went into this sort of spiral. Whether it was his words of comfort or reminders to simply breathe, he knew how to draw me out of my own mind.
Yet now, all I’m met with is silence, while his blue eyes sharpen in a familiar way, focused on me in that subtle habit of his, such as when we’d dress together after our morning showers or take our quiet walks to morning meetings.
He lifts his hand, hovering near my wrist as though he’s measuring distance rather than crossing it. For some reason, that simple gesture makes the air between us feel warmer.
“I’ll let you ask, Em, but first…” he whispers, closing the distance between us. “How have you been feeling?”
His fingers reach my wrist this time. The contact is light. Two fingers at first, then his thumb caressing my skin, most likely checking for circulation.
My pulse reacts before my thoughts do. He adjusts his grip to press his fingertips right on a pronounced vein.