33. Max
MAX
I placed my hand on the small of Emma’s back as I pressed the doorbell.
She had Aidan’s present tucked up against her ribs.
It was wrapped in brown paper with a neat navy ribbon; the sort of wrapping that said she had actually thought about the gift rather than panic-buying it at a gas station on the way over.
And apparently, she also had a surprise for Lucy.
The door swung open and a blast of kid energy hit us. “UNCLE MAX!”
Before I could say anything, Lucy launched herself at me. I scooped her up with a practised arm and spun her around once.
“Hey, Luce.” I kissed the top of her head.
She grinned, then peered over my shoulder with serious, curious eyes at the woman half hidden by my coat sleeve. “Is that her?”
“Busted,” I said, laughing. I set Lucy down and turned a little so Emma could step forward. “Lucy, this is my friend Emma. Emma, this is the most brutal book critic in Toronto.”
Emma stepped forward, smiling warmly, and bent down to Lucy’s level, holding the gift in her hands. “Hello, Lucy. I heard that you love books as much as I do.”
Lucy nodded. “Uh-huh.”
“Excellent,” Emma said, handing over the present with a little flourish. “Because I’ve brought you one that I think you’ll love.”
Lucy gasped and stared at the book in her hands. “For me?”
“For you.”
The ribbon didn’t stand a chance: it was off in three moves, the paper gone a second later. The moment the cover appeared, Lucy squealed. “Mom! Mooom! I got a new book!”
From somewhere deeper in the house, Grace shouted, “Inside voice, please!”
“Inside voice!” Lucy yelled back at exactly the same volume, then threw her arms around Emma’s neck with zero hesitation.
Emma’s laugh was soft and surprised as she hugged back right away.
Something in my chest did that stupid, painful squeeze it had been doing every time Emma did anything remotely sweet, which was a lot.
I leaned in and kissed her temple. “You’re a menace, you know that?”
Her eyes darted up to me, amused. “For providing literature?”
“For using literature as a way to win my niece’s heart.”
She grinned at me. “You’re just annoyed because you didn’t think of it.”
“Get in here before you freeze,” Grace said as she came into the hall, drying her hands on a dish towel. She looked radiant in that effortless way of hers: hair tied up, sleeves rolled up and a big smile on her face. “Hi, you two.”
“Hey, sis.” I closed the door, took off my coat and hung it on the already full rack. I took Emma’s without thinking and noticed the wool smelled like her, making it difficult for me to focus for a second. I cleared my throat, forcing myself back to the present.
The house was warm and noisy. Lamps glowed with that soft yellow light Grace loved.
Plates were clattering somewhere in the kitchen, someone burst out laughing, and Aidan’s so-called “dinner music” pounded away – always including a suspicious number of nineties tracks.
By the dining room table, a few of Aidan’s friends stood around with drinks, already trading loud stories from their shifts at the hospital.
“Birthday boy!” I called when Aidan showed up, with a huge smile and a glass of wine in his hand. He was clearly enjoying himself.
“Max.” He bear-hugged me, then turned to Emma with interest. “You must be Emma. I’m Aidan. Thank you for rescuing my wife in the bathroom at that fancy gala.”
Emma laughed and shook his hand. “It was a very brave safety pin.”
“Heroic,” Aidan agreed solemnly. “Come in, come in. Make yourselves at home.”
He barely finished the sentence before a bark came from somewhere in the house. Emma’s head snapped up toward the sound. “You have a dog?”
Aidan’s smile grew even bigger. “Yes, Barney’s his name. He’s banished to the mudroom, because he thought today would be a good day to roll around in the dirt.”
“Can I say hello?” Emma asked, already half turning.
“Of course,” Aidan said. “Just, uh, the mud. Consider yourselves warned.”
“Oh, I don’t mind,” Emma said as we moved toward the sliding doors. “Mud is worth it if I can cuddle a dog.”
“Of course you think that,” I told her, shaking my head.
When opening the door, Barney, a lab-something mix with a personality three sizes too big, bounced up. Emma crouched down, unfazed by the possible impact or the obvious mud. “Hello, gorgeous,” she cooed in that soft voice people reserve for babies and dogs. “Look at you. Aren’t you beautiful?”
Barney quickly threw his whole body into her orbit, his tail spinning like a helicopter. Then he flopped onto his back and presented his belly, as if he had personally invented the concept of trust.
Emma scratched him with both hands. Mud streaked her knuckles, but she simply didn’t care.
My chest hurt again, the good kind.
Barney’s back leg made that happy drumbeat. Emma laughed and looked up at me, her hair falling out of its clip, as she continued to pet Barney. “You’re missing out.”
“On what? Being tackled?”
“On being adored.”
“Fair point.” I reached down to rub Barney’s chest. “Hey, bud. You’re making me look bad.”
Barney licked my wrist in apology and then returned to his full-time job of worshipping Emma.
“Okay,” I said, standing up and offering Emma a hand. “If we don’t head back soon, Barney will think you’re his – and Grace will start a search party.”
She slid her hand into mine and let me pull her up.
The house was buzzing with the sounds of chairs scraping, cutlery clinking, and someone asking for more water.
“For what it’s worth, your dog is a gentleman,” Emma told Aidan as we stepped back into the living room. “But I do need to wash my hands now.”
“That’s the first time anyone’s said that,” Aidan replied cheerfully.
“I’ll grab us some drinks,” I said, showing Emma where the bathroom was before heading to the kitchen.
“It smells amazing in here, sis,” as I joined her by the sink to wash my hands.
Grace beamed at me, but then her expression changed.
“What?” I asked.
She hesitated, then said: “Mom called yesterday. She… she’s been in therapy for a while now. She wanted to know if you would be willing to meet.”
I just stared at her, my throat tight.
“She’s working on her stuff,” Grace added quickly. “Her therapist thinks talking could help. I told her I would pass it on.”
I didn’t respond. My jaw ached from how tightly I was holding it.
“No pressure, just think about it. That’s all,” she said, while shoving a platter into my hands. “Dining room, before this food gets cold.”
Emma’s eyes found mine when I put down the dish and drinks. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I said, forcing a small smile. She lightly touched my arm, which helped me feel more grounded. I told myself to just focus on the party.
Grace had outdone herself. The spread was ridiculous in the way home-cooked meals can be. There were breads, roasted vegetables, a main dish that smelled amazing, and more side dishes than I could count.
Drinks were refreshed. Plates moved like choreography.
“So, Emma,” one of Aidan’s friends said, “we hear you’re a famous writer.”
Emma smiled. “Only in very specific living rooms.”
Grace beamed. “She’s being modest. She’s brilliant. Tell them about your new book.”
Emma paused, fork in hand. “The truth is, I don’t have all of it yet. I know what the broad strokes are and how it will end, but I just need to stitch in the details. And that’s always the hardest part. But I want it to feel like Toronto in the little ways you only notice when they’re missing.”
“Like what?” Aidan asked, genuinely curious.
She smiled. “The way the streetcars screech. The smell of winter when it’s clean and mean. The way everyone apologises, not because they’re sorry but because it keeps the day going. The lake when it turns to steel.”
Grace sighed contentedly. “See? Brilliant.”
Emma ducked her head. “We’ll see,” she said as she reached for her glass of water.
Lucy leaned sideways to look at Emma around the gravy jug. “What’s your favourite book ever? And you can’t say one of your own.”
Emma put a hand on her heart as if she were offended.
“Ruthless. Well, it changes all the time. Today it’s The Names.
Tomorrow it’ll be Great Expectations. And by next week I’ll insist it was Emma from the start.
” She leaned toward Lucy and whispered, like she was telling her a secret.
“Don’t tell anyone, but I was named after her.
My dad loves to read. He said he wanted his daughter to be like Austen’s Emma – strong-willed, loyal, and always trying to do the right thing for the people she loves.
Even if she occasionally gets it wrong.”
“That sounds like someone I know.”
Emma glanced at me then, her green eyes soft, her smile radiant. Christ, that made me want to kiss her.
Lucy leaned forward again. “Have you read The Golden Compass? It’s my favourite. But I think I’ll love the one that you gave me even more.”
Emma’s face lit up. “The Golden Compass is brilliant. Armoured bears, brave girls. You and I, Lucy, we’re definitely starting a club.”
Lucy beamed. “Yes!”
The dinner was well on its way, with Aidan basking in birthday attention. When someone asked him for a story, he delivered, because Aidan always has one worth telling.
“So,” he said, leaning back. “A few weeks ago, a guy came into the ED. In his thirties. He looked like a man who could bench-press his truck. He was completely ashen. Said he swallowed something ‘by mistake’, but wouldn’t say what it was. X-ray came back and there it was, right in the stomach.”
“Aidan, the kids are listening,” Grace warned.
“Don’t worry, it wasn’t anything gross or alive. It was a ring.”
“A ring?” Emma repeated.
“He’d bought an engagement ring,” Aidan said, his eyes gleaming. “His girlfriend almost found it in his jacket pocket, so he panicked, shoved it in his mouth and swallowed it, right as she walked in.”
“What did you do?” someone asked.