Chapter twenty-two #2
“Emma is smart,” he says bluntly. “She’s sensitive, but she doesn’t take any shit. Whatever has happened in her past has happened. She’s here, Damon, and she cares. You all deserve this second chance.”
“That’s the issue.”
“You’ve lost me,” he replies with a sigh and sits back on his stool.
“Emma is my second chance.” I emphasize the word my. “But she has never had her first chance with someone else.” I wave the hand holding the bottle of beer in a circle then drink. “She deserves to be someone’s first choice. This would never have happened if…you don’t need me to say it.”
“No, I don’t,” he says, clearly peeved by what I have said. “So, in your mind due to the horrendous events of last year, you shouldn’t pursue a woman unless she’s on option two as well? You do realize what a self-obsessed idiot you sound like.”
I bristle, annoyed by his comment.
“This isn’t all about you, Damon. It’s about Emma and what she wants too. And it’s fucking obvious it’s you and this little one. Can you not just be grateful? She’s here and wants you even though you’re a grumpy bastard. Nothing needs to happen quickly; you’re not asking her to marry you.”
“But…”
My usually calm friend stands and walks off around his living space. He runs his fingers through his hair in frustration. I watch him, unsettled by this side of him I’m not used to. After a few minutes, he turns back to face me.
“Are you so obtuse that you don’t see how lucky you are?”
“My wife died,” I snap. “My daughter’s mother. I wouldn’t call that lucky.”
“Don’t be a fuckwit. That’s not what I’m talking about.”
He straightens his shoulders as if in a courtroom and ready to argue.
“You found love with the girl next door. You had that for twenty years. What happened to Connie was tragic, but you know that of all people, she would want you to live. And here we are one year later, and you’ve found someone who clearly loves you. Wake up and smell the fucking coffee.”
He lifts one hand, closes his eyes, and pinches his nose.
“Spare a thought for us poor bastards who can never have who we want.”
“Sorry,” I mutter, feeling scolded and like a selfish ass. “It’ll happen, you’ll find her.”
“I know who she is,” he says. “And whatever happens, we can never be together. That has never and will never change. Anyway, there’s a little business we need to discuss rather than my failed love life. We need more beer.”
He walks over to the fridge, picks out two more bottles, and passes one to me before sitting back down.
“I’m driving.”
“Leave the car, I’ll get Matthew to drive you home.”
He lifts his bottle, and I mirror his actions.
We clink the necks together. “Luke has some information on the current case. There’s a small launderette which is moving further up the debt list. The family owes the gang he’s been assigned to money; they’ve been given twenty-fours to pay, or they’ll be getting paid a visit.”
“What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking we should also be there,” he says, focused on me. “So we can intervene, and perhaps collect some information or an informant higher up the chain. It would be good to ruffle feathers and apply pressure.”
“When is this due to take place?”
“If they don’t pay, which it’s unlikely they will, the debt is fifty thousand and increasing by the hour. Tomorrow night.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Good,” he replies with a smile. “Now, drink up and take your daughter home.”
***
When Annie and I return to the house, we find Emma in the kitchen.
She glances up from whatever she’s stirring in a silver bowl.
“Hello,” she says, flashing me a huge smile.
She’s wearing one of my t-shirts, and over the top is an apron.
Connie’s apron, with the words Top Cook written in pink writing across the chest.
She must have found it in the cupboard. She skips out from behind the island and hurries in our direction, holding out her arms for Annie. My little girl reaches forward.
“Hello, my little munchkin,” Emma says sweetly.
Her blonde hair is tied into a long ponytail on top of her head.
“Come here and give me a cuddle.” I pass my daughter to her and watch them in awe.
The interaction between them is so natural and maternal that it’s startling, and a far cry from how it was a matter of months ago.
Back then, every time Emma picked up Annie, she looked terrified she would break her.
The scene today is both heartwarming and gut-wrenching; in this moment, my late wife seems to have all but disappeared.
“Hey,” I say, and she peeks at me from under her lashes. I place my hand on her waist then lean down to kiss her cheek. “Did you sleep well?”
She smiles then blushes a beautiful shade of pink. “Very, something must have worn me out. It was blissful.”
“I plan to maintain your constant state of blissfulness then.” She giggles, and my heart strains. In these moments, she’s so fucking sweet and innocent, never mind young compared to me. “What were you making?” I signal to the kitchen worktop where the silver bowl and spatula sit abandoned.
“Oat cookies,” she replies, “I was reading a parenting book, and…”
“A parenting book?” I interrupt, surprised.
“Yes, about weaning and good foods for children to eat with their hands. The cookie recipe was included as a snack option. I thought I’d try. Is that all right?”
Her tone turns nervous, uncertain blue eyes run over my face.
My emotions are caught between pain and gratitude.
Part of me hates that Connie isn’t here to experience this family moment, while the other part is eternally indebted to the young woman in my kitchen.
“Of course,” I tell her. “You’re doing an amazing job with Annie. She could never have a better nanny.”
She stills slightly on the word “nanny” but doesn’t say anything.
“I’ve been thinking,” I say, wanting to divert the conversation and ignore the awkwardness I just caused.
“How do you feel about learning a little self-defense? With everything that has happened, I’d feel better if you knew how to kick a guy in the nuts.” She snorts with laughter.
“You’ll teach me?” she asks once her giggles are under control.
“Yes, if that is all right? We can use the gym when no one else is there. I’ve asked Mrs. D to pop around tonight and watch Annie.”
“Tonight?” she says, surprised I think. “Um…”
I take her free hand in mine, then interlink our fingers. “Emma, I can’t lose you. Please, do this for me. I want to know you can protect yourself if those bastards manage to get near you again. Or you can go for option two?”
“What’s option two?” she mumbles, grimacing at me.
“I lock you in this house until Moreno is dead and buried.”