13. Emma
13
EMMA
F ortunately, the rest of my week was not nearly as traumatic, and the weather on the weekend was perfect. I needed to get out of my head and go for a run. There was nothing quite as cathartic as pounding out my aggravations through the park.
I was hot, sweaty, and ready to go home when I stopped at the local bodega to pick up a sandwich. I may have been ready to go home, but I was not ready or prepared to cook.
“Emma, is that you?”
Marcus’s deep voice cut through my distraction as I stared at the menu board, trying to decide which sandwich I was going to request. I was fluctuating between my standard roast turkey with salami or going for something more health-conscious, like the vegetable sandwich.
“Oh, Marcus. Hi. I didn’t expect to run into you here.”
“This isn’t our neighborhood,” he admitted.
I nodded, relief unexpectedly flooding through me at the knowledge that chance encounters with him would be minimal.
“What’s good here?” he asked. “Out for a run?”
He nodded at my clothes. I wore black knee-length biker shorts and a tight, sweat-stained athletic shirt. The sweat dripping off my brow was a dead giveaway.
“What are you doing here?”
“Just headed back in,” I confessed, looking at the two teenagers who stood awkwardly next to him. “You guys headed out for the day? Big plans?”
“Jason here has a ball game,” Marcus said as he reached up and patted his son on the head. I recognized Jason from earlier at the hospital.
“Good to know you use that arm for more than just throwing coffee mugs,” I teased.
“And this is my daughter, Lily,” Marcus added, introducing the teenage girl who was actively glaring at me.
“Nice to meet you,” I said, even though she continued to glare. I had the distinct feeling she was not anybody’s fan.
“Do you want to come?” Jason asked enthusiastically.
Lily rolled her eyes and groaned. I got the impression she was tired of her little brother.
“Dr. Chen has things she’s doing, Jason,” Marcus interjected.
The kid looked crestfallen, but honestly, I didn’t have anything better to do. “Sure. Why not? Is that okay?”
Jason’s eyes went wide, and he started vibrating as he looked eagerly at his dad. I don’t think I looked at Marcus as eagerly, but I understood the feeling. Having Marcus’s approval did things to me.
“I don’t have anything better to do. It sounds like fun,” I admitted.
“It sounds tedious,” Lily muttered.
I didn’t have much experience with teenagers, but she seemed like a movie-quality, stereotypically annoyed teen—annoyed with the world and completely unimpressed with anything and everything her brother did.
I got my sandwich and waited while they made their choices before following them back to the park.
The baseball fields were lively. I may have gotten more into the game than I’d intended, yelling and cheering as Jason showed off his considerable throwing skills.
His team won, and Jason was a bouncing ball of energy as we left the park. He was still very much a kid, despite being in the body of a newly minted teenager. His sister, however, remained moody and complained the entire time.
I didn’t let her attitude get in the way of my enjoyment. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been to such a thrilling ball game. The players were enthusiastic, and the crowd was even more so.
“Thank you,” I said as we followed the crowd out of the park and back into the real world. “I had a great time. Well done, Jason,” I added.
Jason grinned. “Do you want to come over for dinner?”
Lily let out a long groan, complete with a heavy eye roll.
“No, thank you. Though I should?—”
I barely got the words out before Marcus grinned at me.
“I’m going to grill some steaks. You eat meat, right?”
“Yes, I’m not a vegetarian, but… thank you. And you don’t have to.” I gestured at my clothing. “Do I have time to go home and change?”
“You don’t need to change. Just come as you are,” Marcus said with a chuckle.
“Great.” I accepted the invitation.
I expected us to continue walking, but Marcus paused and hailed a cab.
“Do you live far?” I asked.
“Not particularly.” He shrugged, nodding toward Lily, who was lagging behind. “She’s tired, cranky, and it’s hot. I figured it’s best to avoid conflicts before they start.”
“Gotcha,” I whispered. “I’ll leave the finer management of teenagers to your expertise.”
“What? No kids?”
I recognized the teasing glint in his eye before I had a chance to be indignant.
“Not yet, at least,” I admitted.
“So, you’re not anti-kid?”
“If I were against the idea of kids, I would hardly have specialized in pediatric trauma,” I said.
“I know plenty of doctors who work with kids but don’t want any themselves,” Marcus countered.
Our conversation ran the gamut—from kids to favorite baseball teams and sports, eventually landing on television shows during the cab ride to his brownstone.
It was a nice home in a very nice neighborhood, the kind of place I could see myself in a few years. For now, I liked my apartment. I’d chosen it specifically for its convenient location to work and affordability.
“How are you in the kitchen?” Marcus asked as we climbed the front stairs to his home.
“I know how to handle a knife if that’s what you’re asking,” I joked.
“I know you do. I’ve seen you at work,” he replied. “Think you could handle the sides while I grill the steaks?”
“I think the kids and I can handle that,” I said, nodding.
Lily rolled her eyes again, clearly unimpressed. Jason, however, seemed excited.
“It’ll be fun!” he said enthusiastically.
“What do you think we should make?”
“I guess it depends on what you’ve got in the kitchen.”
Jason dashed into the kitchen ahead of me. It was a homey space, well-stocked with fruits and vegetables. When I found a cucumber and a jar of chili paste in the refrigerator, I knew what my extra-special contribution to the evening meal would be.
“Do you have any peanut butter?” I asked.
In no time, I was preparing a spicy Asian-style cucumber salad. Lily remained unimpressed with everything, but I was determined to win her over.
“Trust the process,” I said when she sneered at the combination of peanut butter and cucumbers.
We filled out the meal with an easy pasta salad. Before long, we had gathered around the dining room table to eat.
“Oh, this is good.” I may have moaned too loudly over the perfectly grilled steak.
Lily stared at her plate with her arms crossed.
“What’s wrong?” Marcus asked. “I made your steak exactly the way you like it. And pasta salad is your favorite.”
“She put peanut butter on the cucumbers,” Lily grumbled.
“I love peanut butter,” Jason said enthusiastically as he shoveled another bite of the salad into his mouth.
“Try one bite before you make a judgment. It’s good. It has a very Asian flavor to it,” Marcus encouraged her.
Her eyes widened in surprise as she chewed. “This is actually good,” she admitted.
I didn’t bother hiding my grin. “That’s the ginger. I actually got the recipe from some little blue-eyed, blond boy off the internet. But it tastes like something my grandmother would have made.”
Marcus caught my eye from across the table, his lips curving into a faint smile. “Looks like you’ve impressed the toughest critic in the room.”
“Don’t get used to it,” Lily mumbled, but there was no venom in her words.
Jason, on the other hand, was wolfing down his plate with the energy only a teenage boy could muster. “This is amazing! Can we have this every time you come over?”
“Jason, let’s not scare Dr. Chen off,” Marcus said, though his tone was light and teasing.
“Oh, I think I can handle it,” I replied. “But you might want to pace yourself, Jason. I don’t think there’s enough salad for thirds.”
“Too late!” he said with a grin, already reaching for another helping.
As we finished up, Marcus stood to gather the plates. “Thanks for helping with the sides,” he said.
“My pleasure,” I replied, following his lead and stacking the empty bowls. “And thank you for dinner. It was delicious.”
“You’re welcome anytime,” Marcus said, his gaze lingering on mine for a moment longer than necessary.
I insisted on helping with the cleanup. “I can’t just sit here while you do all the work,” I said, stacking plates with an ease that spoke of someone who wasn’t afraid to pitch in.
“You’re my guest,” Marcus protested, reaching for the plates I was holding.
“Not anymore,” I replied, sidestepping him with a sly grin. “Now I’m part of the cleanup crew. And I don’t take kindly to being bossed around, so don’t even try it.”
He laughed, a deep, rich rumble, as he raised his hands in surrender. “All right, all right. I’ll let you help. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. My dishwasher’s ancient. It’s practically a relic.”
“That’s fine,” I said, rolling up my sleeves. “Handwashing builds character.”