40. Emerson
EMERSON
“Hi, Emerson.”
I look up from the counter to find blonde waves and pretty brown eyes. “Hey, Mia. Want your usual?”
Mia nods, a bright smile on her face as she pulls out her wallet, even though she’s the Hey Honey’s owners’ best friend and gets free coffee.
“Coming right up,” I say, not even bothering to put the order into the iPad.
Mia pulls out a few bills anyway, tossing them into the tip jar before taking a few steps down from the register to the Pick-Up counter.
“So,” she starts, and, even over the stacks of plastic cups, I can see the way she shifts her weight back and forth—the same way Mateo does with his own energy he doesn’t know what to do with. “My brother mentioned things were going really well between you two.”
I look up to find her watching me carefully—she’s not uncomfortable or unsure of herself—and maybe that’s what I was partly expecting since she’s Mateo’s sister. Instead, the carefulness is more like she’s holding herself back—wanting to say more than she’s allowing herself.
“Things are great,” I offer, having to raise my voice over the hiss of the espresso machine as I make her iced vanilla latte.
And they are. But the truth is, I haven’t seen Mateo in a couple of days. Not since I went home after Crew fell asleep during our movie night.
We’ve both been busy, and I’ve been regretting leaving that night so hastily since I didn’t realize it was going to be the last night the two of us would have all week.
I don’t know why I got so spooked that night at Mateo’s. Things have been going so well that it almost seems too good to be true.
Maybe because of how we started out—teasing, flirting, seeing who would break first—there’s hesitation. At least on my part.
Or maybe it’s something else. Something I can’t quite place.
“And Crew is obsessed with you,” Mia says with a smile as I pour the oat milk into the espresso before tossing a scoop of ice in.
I exhale, my lips quirking at the thought of my favorite Halloween-loving, Go Fish-playing, question-asking kid. “The feeling is mutual,” I tell Mia, pressing a lid onto the plastic cup and sliding it across the counter to her.
“You’re really good with him,” Mia says, taking her coffee. “With Crew, I mean,” she adds with a little laugh.
“He’s an easy kid to get along with,” I say, reaching behind my neck to tighten the bandana tied on my head.
“Mateo mentioned that you’ve been helping Crew get ready for Kindergarten?” Mia takes a sip of her coffee before brushing her hair off her shoulder.
I nod. “He’s doing a great job,” I tell Mia, a swell of pride blooming in my chest at the thought of not only how well Crew can write his name now but how many letter sounds he’s learned this summer.
“And you’re going to go with Mateo and Talia to Crew’s Kindergarten orientation in a few weeks, right?” she asks, and I have to hide the confusion threatening my features.
Mateo didn’t mention any orientation for Crew. At least not to me.
Nerves land heavy in my stomach as doubt threatens to send my thoughts into an endless spiral.
Maybe he doesn’t want me there?
Maybe he’s setting a boundary when it comes to Crew?
I can’t blame him.
I’m not Crew’s mom—he already has one. A great one.
And I’m not his nanny anymore.
I’m not his anything.
And that thought shouldn’t hurt as much as it does.
Mia looks like she just realized she said something wrong, but before she can take it back or apologize, I shake my head, pasting a smile on my face. “He probably just forgot to mention it.”
The door to Hey Honey’s chimes, and the retired rockstar waltzes right in, two other volunteer firefighters he’s training with follow a few steps behind him.
Mateo’s grin is bright as he looks at me, and stupid butterflies instantly take flight in my stomach.
His gaze turns to Mia, and even though I can’t see the face she’s making, I know it can’t be good by the way Mateo’s smile slightly drops.
“You have some explaining to do,” Mia reprimands the second Mateo approaches us at the other end of the counter, and I have to roll my lips together at the tone she takes with him.
It’s even funnier knowing that she’s not just the younger sibling, but Mateo raised her.
The fact that she has her arms crossed, brows furrowed, and a scolding on the tip of her tongue has me pressing a hand to my mouth to hide my amusement.
“Hey, baby,” Mateo says, ignoring Mia and leaning over the counter to kiss me.
He’s dressed in black cargo pants and a Northshore Fire Department T-shirt.
His facial hair is freshly shaven, aside from the hair above his lips, since firefighters can’t have beards—and I can’t say I’m complaining about it with the way he pulls a mustache off.
“Hi, rockstar,” I greet him, leaning in to meet his kiss.
The instant our lips touch, it’s like all the worries from before fade away.
I don’t care that it’s been days since I’ve seen him and Crew; I don’t care that he didn’t ask me to go to Crew’s orientation; I don’t care that I think I might love this man yet can’t say the words out loud.
I don’t care about any of it.
And then we pull away, Mia dramatically clears her throat, and Mateo groans, looking over at her. “What?”
Out of the corner of my eye, the two other volunteer firefighters Mateo came in with are at the register. “I should go take their or—”
“Why did you tell Talia that your girlfriend was going to Crew’s Kindergarten orientation when you haven’t even asked her?”
I immediately see the blush creep up his neck.
Girlfriend.
It isn’t until right now that I realize we never had the conversation—the what are we conversation that usually ends with labels. Like boyfriend and girlfriend.
Is that what we are?
I haven’t been referring to Mateo as my partner, even in my head, since we got together two weeks ago. Mostly because the labels felt so… Trivial. Small. Inconsequential to who Mateo is to me.
“I didn’t say—” Mateo’s eyes go to me and then back to Mia.
“I’m going to get back to work,” I say, raising my hands and removing myself from the sibling quarrel I know all too well.
“How did you even know I told Talia that Emerson was coming with us?” Mateo whisper-yells at Mia, and I barely hear Mia’s response as I walk away.
I think I hear something about how Talia called her last night, so excited that Crew didn’t have just one set of parents but two, but there’s no way I heard her right.
I shake the thought away, tapping the iPad as I ask the two firefighters, “Hey, guys. How are you?”
“Good, thanks. You?” one of them says at the same time the other one asks, “You Mateo’s girl?”
I look up to find two guys about my age, maybe a few years further into their thirties, and I already know Mateo’s patience is being tested on the daily if he’s spending most of his time with guys up to ten years younger than him.
The one who replied to my greeting reminds me a lot of Anderson.
Where Anderson has thick brown waves that always seem a little windblown, this guy’s hair is cropped short and much darker, neat without looking stiff.
His blue eyes shine against his tan skin, and his shoulders stretch the fabric of his Northshore Fire Department crewneck, broad and solid in a way that feels reassuring rather than intimidating.
The sympathetic look he gives me makes it seem like he’s already preparing to apologize for the guy standing next to him.
My attention shifts to the man who thought asking if I belonged to Mateo was an acceptable first impression. “I have a name.”
Unlike his partner, there’s nothing welcoming about him.
His head is shaved down to a dark shadow of stubble, emphasizing the permanent scowl etched across his face.
He stands with the easy confidence of someone who’s never been called out for being rude, and the longer I look at him, the more obvious it becomes that his attention keeps drifting down.
His eyes land on my chest, flick back to my face, then wander right back again, like he doesn’t even realize—or care—how obvious he’s being.
Every detail about him screams the same thing: asshole.
When he doesn’t respond, I roll my eyes, refusing to waste any more energy on the man.
“What can I get you?” I ask the nice one, tapping his order into the iPad, and pulling a Sharpie out of my apron to jot it down on the cup—just in time for Brooke, the other barista on shift, to grab it from me now that she’s back from her break.
She offers me a smile as I turn to the guy with the shaved head. I don’t even bother asking him what he wants—instead, I look at him, waiting for him to order.
His eyes go down to my chest—again—before they go to Brooke. She’s humming along to the song playing over the speaker, a content smile on her face as she clicks a few buttons on the espresso machine.
“Why can’t you smile like that one?”
All the air immediately leaves the room.
The grinder stops. The music fades into the background. Even Brooke’s humming cuts off somewhere in my periphery.
I feel my jaw lock.
I learned early on that life gets a lot easier—and a lot more fun—when you start traumatizing men back.
Most of them aren’t nearly as “funny” when someone returns their energy.
And if I wasn’t standing behind a register with a nametag pinned to my chest, this conversation would be heading in a very different direction.
“Jenkins.” Mateo’s voice slices through the silence.
I hadn't even realized he and Mia had finished their conversation.
In three long strides, he’s inches from the guy—Jenkins. The easygoing demeanor Mateo usually has is gone. His expression is hard, unreadable, and somehow that makes him look bigger. Steadier.
Hotter.
Jenkins straightens instinctively.
Mateo steps directly into his line of sight, forcing the man’s attention away from me. Not aggressively. Not enough that anyone could accuse him of starting a problem.
Just enough.
Just enough to make it clear exactly where he stands.
The muscles in Mateo’s jaw flex as he levels Jenkins with a stare.
“Everything okay over here?”
The question is calm. Almost casual.
The warning underneath it isn't.
For the first time since they'd walked in, Jenkins looks uncomfortable. His confidence falters under Mateo’s gaze, his mouth opening and closing before he settles on an awkward shrug. It makes sense for a guy like him—cowering when another man calls him out for his bullshit behavior.
I feel some of the tension draining out of me, my pulse slowing.
Mateo doesn’t look at me right away. His attention stays locked on Jenkins for another second, making sure the message lands. Then he glances over his shoulder.
“You good?”
The concern in his voice is subtle, but it’s there.
And I’m not going to lie—it’s ridiculously hot.
And something about seeing the normally laid-back guy drop the smile and step in without hesitation sends an embarrassing little flutter through my stomach. I can take care of myself, and I’m confident in doing so. But Mateo always seems to remind me that I don’t always have to.
When I give him a nod and he turns back to Jenkins, I realize how good it feels to have someone in your corner.
“Why don’t you just wait in the truck?” Mateo claps Jenkins on the shoulder, and the guy instantly tenses up before nodding and heading out the door.
As he walks through the parking lot, I see through the windows—how he turns around, his eyes narrowed in our direction, and I can’t help myself. Lifting my hand, I offer him my biggest smile with a little wave.
“Sorry. The kid’s a jackass,” Mateo says, bringing my attention to him just as Mia walks over to us and Brooke hands the other guy his coffee.
“He is always looking for a problem,” the other volunteer firefighter says before holding his hand out to me. “I’m Emilio, by the way. Emilio Reyes.”
“Emerson.” I shake his hand over the counter.
I watch the way his eyes roam over to Brooke as she makes herself busy behind the counter, so I introduce her, the two of them falling into conversation by the pick-up counter.
“Mateo.” Mia’s eyes widen, and she doesn't even try to hide how she nods towards me. “Don’t you have something to ask Emerson?”
Mateo’s head falls back, and he wipes a hand down his face. “Camila, I swear, mind your own business.”
“Don’t call me that.” She reaches out and punches him in the shoulder, and Mateo instantly grabs his arm with too sincere an “ow” to be dramatic. “You’re the one who already told Talia—who told me and probably Crew—that Emerson was going with you guys.”
Mateo turns to me, a shy smile on his face. “I did stop by to ask you something today,” he says, looking over his shoulder at Mia and shooing her away.
She rolls her eyes, offering me a wave as she heads towards the door.
He turns back to me. “I had this whole plan of surprising you at work and asking if you wanted to come over tonight, so I could officially ask to be your boyfriend, but my sister had to go and ruin it, and I really was planning on asking you to come to Crew’s—”
“Mateo.” I hold up a hand, stopping him before her short-circuits.
He’s so cute when he rambles.
He snaps his mouth closed, his eyes wide like he just registered everything he just said—including the asking to be my boyfriend part.
“Yes.”
He raises a brow. “Yes, to what?”
“Yes, I’ll go to Crew’s orientation.”
His face lights up. “He’ll be so excited.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to say yes to the boyfriend part, but it’s like my mouth can’t physically form the words.
So instead, I lean across the counter, grabbing him by the shirt and pulling his lips to mine.
Because kissing him is easy.
It’s everything that comes after that terrifies me.