33. Max #2
“What we always do,” Aidan said. “We had a frank conversation about how long it takes for the human body to… return jewellery. He begged us to help him, because he wanted to propose that evening. So we went for the nuclear option: laxatives. Two hours, a very anxious nurse and one strainer later…”
“No,” Emma said, covering her mouth, horrified and amused.
“Yes,” Aidan said. “He sterilized it and proposed. She said yes. Nothing like beginning a marriage with some brutal honesty.”
“About straining?” I asked.
“About the stupid, beautiful things you’ll do for love,” Aidan said, raising his glass.
We toasted to stupid, beautiful things.
Eventually, the questions came to me, as they always do. “How’s hockey?” Aidan’s friend asked. “You lot going to make the playoffs or what?”
“We’ve got a shot,” I said, trying not to sound like I was bragging. “We’re gelling. Special teams are looking better. If we keep our heads and don’t take dumb penalties, we’ll be in the mix.”
“Any big fights?” someone else asked, half teasing.
“Not as much as you think. I’m more useful on the ice than in the box. And my coach likes his defence-men boring.”
“Max is never boring,” Grace said dryly as she walked by with a plate, patting my shoulder. I draped my arm over the back of Emma’s chair, my thumb brushing lightly against her back. She didn’t move away. If anything, she leaned back now and then, like she knew exactly what she was doing to me.
The table fell into that comfortable silence that comes after too much food and just enough wine.
Emma was the first to get up. “I’ll help you clear the dishes,” she said to Grace.
Grace flapped her towel at her. “Not a chance. You’re a guest.”
Emma smiled sweetly and picked up half of the plates before Grace could even blink. “Sorry, but that’s not how I was raised.”
I stood up too, grinning at Grace’s glare. “Guess I’m drafted.”
We carried the plates to the kitchen and moved around each other in that easy, unplanned way that somehow worked.
Emma was at the sink while I scraped plates beside her.
The kitchen was a little too warm. Or maybe it was just her – sleeves pushed up, hair slipping from its clip again, grabbing my attention whether I wanted it to or not.
I put down another stack and moved close enough to feel her warmth. She glanced over her shoulder, lips parting like she was about to ask if I needed space. I didn’t. I bent down, found the spot where her neck met her shoulder, and kissed her there, slow and deliberate.
Her breath caught. “Max…”
I let my hand slide over her stomach, hesitated just long enough to feel the tension build, then drew her gently back against me. She went still for a second before leaning back into me.
“You have no idea how lucky you are that there aren’t any good walls in here,” I whispered in her ear.
The sound she made took me right back to that night in the alley. “You’re incorrigible,” she said with a soft, laughing voice.
Just then, Grace came in through the kitchen door with the last few plates stacked in her arms. “Whoops,” she said, her eyes flicking between us with a look that was half apology, half amusement.
Emma slipped out of my grip like it was a dance move and reached for the plates. “Here, let me…”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Emma’s smile was easy. “No, it’s fine. After all, it’s your kitchen.”
Grace put the plates in the sink, rinsed them quickly, then turned back and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “Emma, about what I thought I saw in the lecture hall…”
Emma shook her head a little. “Grace, please. There’s nothing to be sorry for. You were just looking out for your brother. I get it.”
Grace’s face relaxed. “Thanks, Emma. I really shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.”
“It’s all right,” Emma said gently. “I understand why you reacted the way that you did and I really don’t hold it against you.
We’re good.” She flicked water off her fingers and reached for a towel.
She then slid past me to the door, her fingers lightly brushing the inside of my wrist. Electricity shot up my arm.
I swallowed, thinking, Pull yourself together, man. Fuck.
Grace watched me watch her leave. “You look happy,” she said softly.
I leaned back against the counter, looked at my sister, and didn’t bother to pretend. “Yeah, I really am.”
“I’ve never seen you like this. Not even when you were nineteen and thought that barista with the neck tattoo was your soulmate because she spelled your name with a double X.”
I groaned. “Do not bring up the neck tattoo again.”
Grace’s smile turned tender. “How are you doing? Really.”
I rubbed my jaw, looking for something that didn’t sound like a cliché.
“It feels… easy. And big. I didn’t think big and easy could go together, but here we are.
I keep waiting to screw it up. And I know she might leave, and I’d be an idiot to pretend I didn’t hear that clock ticking, but I can’t not be with her because of a hypothetical.
I can’t make it smaller just to make it hurt less later. ”
“You know I’m going to tell you to be careful, right?”
“I know.”
“And you also know you can’t be careful with some things.”
“I know that too.”
She stepped in and nudged my shoulder with hers. “Then you do what you always do when it matters. You keep your head up and your feet moving. And you don’t let the fear of the end stop you from playing the shift you’re in.”
I snorted. “You been stealing my coach’s speeches?”
“I’m a mom,” she said. “Occupational hazard.”
We finished loading the dishwasher. Grace wiped her hands, leaned a hip against the counter and looked at me for another long second. “She really is wonderful,” she said.
“I know,” I said, not at all surprised at how sure I sounded.
“Okay. Go sit down before Aidan gets so impatient that he lights his own cake.”
I found Emma curled up in a corner of the couch.
She looked up and scooted over, making room for me to slide in next to her.
As she leaned back against my chest, I wrapped my arm around her, my hand resting on her thigh, warm through the soft fabric of her dress.
It felt so comfortable that I couldn’t resist kissing her temple.
She squeezed my hand, and I smiled into her hair.
She settled against me like it was the most natural thing in the world, and for a second it hit me how good it felt. Too good. And of course that’s when my stupid brain chose that exact moment to replay Grace’s words about Mom. I shoved it down. Not now. Not here.
In the armchair across from us, one of Aidan’s friends was telling Lucy and Lucas a story about a turtle that crossed an entire golf course just to eat someone’s sandwich.
The kids were riveted. Lucy’s face looked sceptical but delighted, and Lucas had already made up his mind that this was how he would live his life from now on.
The kitchen door swung open and Grace came out with a cake big enough to feed a small village. Candles were flickering on top as she set it down on the coffee table.
“Me!” Lucas blurted out, already bouncing in place. “I get to blow them out!”
“Me,” Lucy said, loud and clear. “You did it last year, so we alternate.”
Lucas frowned. “Alternate?”
“Take turns,” she translated, sighing heavily.
Aidan jumped in. “Teamwork, people. On three. And no spitting. Your mother will revoke your cake privileges.”
Grace raised her eyebrows. “True.”
“One,” Aidan said. “Two. Three!”
Lucy and Lucas took a big breath together and blew, making the candles go out in a wave.
As the room erupted and Aidan took a mocking bow, Lucy immediately darted over to Emma.
She was in full interrogation mode, her face dead serious as she peppered Emma with questions about being a writer.
Emma laughed and crouched down, chatting with Lucy like they’d been friends forever.
I caught myself watching them a little longer than I meant to. Seeing Emma just slide into the centre of my family, looking like she’d always belonged there, hit me harder than I expected. I hadn’t realized how much I’d been hoping for this, but now that it was happening, I didn’t want it to end.
Grace noticed me staring and shot me a knowing smile. She didn’t need to say anything.
“Cake?” Grace asked, already slicing. “We have chocolate, and chocolate, and…”
“Is one of those chocolate?” I asked, and got a dish towel lobbed at my head.
People passed around slices. Emma accepted hers and passed me mine without looking, which felt incredibly intimate.
We ate as if we had never had chocolate before.
Lucas asked for seconds with the serious cunning of a diplomat.
Lucy plotted where her new book would sit on her shelf.
Someone played a song that made Aidan roll his eyes, but he hummed along anyway.
Emma shifted just enough to look up at me without really moving away.
“You okay?” she asked in that soft British voice of hers.
“Yeah,” I said. “You?”
She nodded. “I like your people.”
“They like you too.”
“That’s convenient.”
“Very,” I said, kissing the top of her head, unable to stop myself.
Aidan got a lot of gifts, mostly from the kids. There was a lopsided tie, a card with a lot of stickers on it, and a mug that said WORLD’S OKAYEST DAD that made him laugh so hard he cried. He made a show of admiring each one. Grace shook her head and kissed him.
The night slowly wound down. One by one, people grabbed their coats and said goodbye. I leaned down to Emma and whispered, “Ready to leave?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Then I’ll take you home.”
By the door, I helped her into her coat, my hands finding excuses to stay on her shoulders a little longer than necessary. She turned around and looked up at me, her cheeks pink from the warmth.
She took my hand and squeezed it lightly as we walked out. She said softly, “You looked happy in there. It looks good on you.”