36. Emma
EMMA
Grace let us in before we could finish knocking. Her face was glowing with the kind of happiness that comes from anticipating a rare night out without the kids and feeling only a little guilty about it.
She hugged me and then stood on her toes to give Max a peck on the cheek. “You two are saints,” she said. “The kids are so excited. They’ve been counting down the minutes since lunch. It’s like Taylor Swift is going to babysit.”
Max snorted. “Lucy is probably more excited about Emma than about me.”
“Yes, she is actually. Lucas, on the other hand, is convinced you’re going to show him how to bodycheck his sister into the couch, so good luck with that.”
Barney was behind her, thumping his feet and wagging his tail so hard that his whole back end wobbled. He ran up to me and pushed his muzzle into my hands. I bent down right away, buried my face in his coat, and hugged him like an old friend. “Hello, handsome boy,” I said softly.
Then Aidan came in, his coat half fastened, looking like a man who was about to be kicked out of his own house. “Don’t expect them to be neat, even though they’re already in pyjamas. And don’t let Lucy talk you into three desserts. She’ll try.”
“I make no promises,” I said lightly.
All of a sudden someone in the house shrieked, “They’re here!” followed by the sound of small feet and the skittering of socks on hardwood.
Lucy was the first to show up, her hair in a hasty ponytail and her eyes shining with excitement.
“Emma!” She squealed and wrapped her arms around my waist before I could even put down my bag.
“I found the book you told me about. It’s the one with the girl who rides away on a horse.
I have already read half of it. You were right; it’s brilliant. ”
Lucas collided with Max’s legs and wrapped himself around his thigh like he was going to stay there.
“Uncle Max!” Lucas shouted. “You PROMISED mini hockey!”
“Whoa, easy there, bud,” Max said, laughing as he bent to ruffle Lucas’s hair until it stuck up in soft brown tufts. “We’ll get there. You say hi to Emma yet?”
Lucas peeked around Max’s leg and smiled at me shyly, showing his missing teeth. “Hey, Emma.”
“Hello, Lucas.” I crouched to his level. “I’m really looking forward to losing at mini hockey.”
“Yeah, you’ll lose,” he said, sounding very happy.
Grace ushered us further in. “Okay. We need to leave before our reservation evaporates. Coats on the hooks and shoes wherever they land. They’ve been fed, but snacks are on the counter. We told Lucas to go to bed at eight and Lucy to go to bed at half past.
“Absolutely not,” Lucy said in a calm voice. “Bedtime is up for discussion.”
“Shocking,” Grace said quietly and kissed the top of her daughter’s head. She kissed Lucas while he held on to Max like a barnacle. “Please be nice to our guests, my love.”
“I am nice,” Lucas said, apparently offended.
Aidan lovingly corrected, “You’re a chaos goblin.” He grabbed his keys and looked at us, “Text me if you need anything. Or if they form a union.”
“Go,” I said, shooing them. “Have fun.”
The door shut behind them. Lucas immediately let go of Max and sprinted down the hall. “Hockey!”
Lucy sniffed softly. “We should begin with something civilized.”
Max raised his eyebrows and looked at me. “Civilized?”
“Cupcakes. I brought sprinkles.”
Lucy’s eyes lit up. “What kind of sprinkles?”
I whispered, “Rainbow stars,” like I was in on a secret.
She gasped. “Lucas! CUPCAKES!”
He ran back into the room like a rocket and crashed into Max’s legs. Max staggered, clutching his thigh. “Oh, I’m hit!” Man down!”
“You’re ridiculous,” I told him as I stepped past, tapping his shoulder with the back of my hand on the way to the kitchen. He caught my fingers, squeezed them once, and then let go. It was small and simple, but it warmed my heart.
The kitchen looked the same as it always did, with signs of family life all over the place.
There was a whale-shaped magnet holding up school notices, a Lego spaceship left on the breakfast table, and a dog-eared recipe propped up against a jar of wooden spoons.
Barney thumped his tail against the cabinets and nosed our knees in the hopes that he could help.
Lucy told him he could only help by supervising.
I said, “Right,” and rolled up my sleeves. “Lucy, you’re my sous-chef. Lucas, sprinkles and moral support. Max…”
“Head taster?” he cut in, hopeful.
“Head egg-cracker,” I said as I handed him a bowl and three eggs. “Let’s see if you can handle the basics.”
“Watch and learn,” he replied.
Unfortunately, the first one didn’t even make it to the bowl. The shell, the yolk, all of it hit the counter instead.
“Brilliant start,” I said, trying not to laugh.
“I loosened it,” Max said, with a completely straight face.
“That’s not real,” Lucy told him. “You just made that up.”
I picked pieces of shell out of the goo while still biting the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. “Okay,” I said. “Maybe this time you should be a bit more gentle.”
Lucy poured the sugar meticulously. Lucas insisted on pouring the milk, but he only got about half of it into the bowl.
“Emma, there’s milk on the floor,” he announced.
“I know, sweetheart. We’ll mop it up.”
But Barney was already licking the floor clean.
We stirred, sifted, and fought over who should lick the spoon.
I ended up covered in flour. Max leaned in, wiped a streak off my cheek with his thumb, and held it up like proof. “You’re so cute,” he said in a softer voice.
My stomach flipped – and I pretended it didn’t. This was supposed to be easy. Safe. Just babysitting. Not this dangerous wanting that made me forget where I ended and he began.
“Focus,” I warned him. “You’re on spoon duty.”
He squinted. “Spoon batter… into the cups?”
“Yes, into the cups.”
He messed up three times before Lucy gently pushed him away. “It’s okay,” she said kindly. “You’re a hockey player – you have other talents.”
“Wow. Thanks.”
We finally got the tray into the oven.
“All right,” I said, closing the door. “Cupcakes are in. Time for a new project.”
The kitchen was warm and safe from all the baking – which made the next words inevitable.
“Hockey!” Lucas shouted, full of excitement.
Max raised an eyebrow at me. “You ready, Dawson?”
“Am I going to humiliate myself? Probably. Will I still do it? Yes.”
“That’s my girl,” he said without thinking, and froze. Our eyes met. I blushed because it sounded so intimate. Thankfully, Lucy ran into the living room yelling about nets. Lucas jumped on Barney, who sighed like the saint he is.
Max rolled up the rug, pulled chairs into the goalposts, and made two plastic hockey sticks appear out of nowhere. The foam puck sat proudly on the table, clearly the star of the show.
“Okay,” Max said, clapping his hands once like he was running practice. “Ground rules. No whacking above the knees, no aiming at your mom’s vases, and no crying when Emma scores on you, bud.”
“I will cry,” Lucas said, taking a moment to think about it. “But just a little.”
Lucy took her place in front of the chair they had chosen as a goal. “I am the wall,” she declared. “No puck shall pass.”
“You’re the wall,” Max repeated, with a straight face but a twitch in his mouth. He gave me one of the little plastic sticks. “You and me up front.”
I told him, “I’m going to be awful.” I can command a classroom and wrangle sentences, but sports equipment is a whole different story.
He said, “You’ll be fine,” and then he lowered his voice so only I could hear. “Just run after the little black thing and yell a lot.”
“That’s your big plan?” I whispered back.
“Works for Will,” he said, and I couldn’t help but laugh.
Then we were off. Chaos. Lucas tripped over a cushion he had proudly put in the middle of the “rink” and stayed there like a stranded starfish until Max hauled him up by the armpits.
“On your feet, champ.” Lucy kicked the puck by accident and said sorry to it as if it were alive.
Max crab-walked across the rug to block a shot.
I swung at the puck and missed it by a mile.
Then I spun around and acted like I meant to do it.
“Style points,” Max said with a smile that made me feel like I had just won gold.
“My dignity is gone,” I puffed, weirdly exhilarated.
Lucas accidentally scored again when he tripped and the puck wobbled into the chair-goal. “GOOOOOAL!” he yelled. He threw his stick in the air before remembering that was illegal. He picked it up with big brown eyes full of guilt. “Sorry, Uncle Max.”
“It’s okay,” Max said, ruffling his hair before kissing the top of his head. I loved to see him like that – unguarded and sweet.
We switched sides so that Lucy could try out as striker. Turned out she was ruthless. She came charging at Max with her eyes blazing and hit him right between the knees with a sharp shot. The puck ricocheted off the leg of the chair and stopped. She threw up her hands. “YES!”
Max staggered, his eyes watering. “Were you aiming for me?”
“It’s strategy,” she said calmly.
“Strategic assault,” he said under his breath, and I laughed so hard I had to lean against him to catch my breath. He steadied me without thinking, his hand slipping to my waist.
I touched his cheek, still laughing. “You okay?”
“Excellent,” Max said, giving my waist a tiny squeeze.
Then the timer went off, reminding us that the cupcakes were ready.
“Truce!” I called. The kitchen smelled delicious, like vanilla, sugar, and warmth.
We took the tray out and lined the cupcakes up to cool.
Max sat on a stool with his chin in his hand, staring at me as if I were the only thing in the room.
My stomach did that funny little flip again.
“Okay, everyone, the cupcakes need some time to cool off. So, while I clean up the kitchen a bit, your uncle Max is going to show you some penalty shots.”