Utterly Forgettable | MM Romance | Complete

Sixteen: Emery: A Foregone Conclusion

"Eyes off screen. We need to talk."

Emery fought back a smile; if Emma realized how much he welcomed her interruptions he'd never get any work done. A few months before, faced with the same situation, his annoyance would have been genuine. These days, with the clock counting down ever faster, moments like this one were precious, and he knew to treasure them. He had Josh to thank for that awareness.

He had Josh to thank for a great deal of things, he mused, and realized he'd lost the battle with his smile already. "Far be it from me to attempt work. You have my undivided attention. What must we talk about?"

Emma grinned, wide and terrifying, the same sort of smile she used to sport when they were younger, whenever she'd come into his bedroom at night to tell him she was sneaking out the window and it was his job to make sure their parents didn't find out. Emery had thought it was a tall order, for a boy who wasn't even in his teenage years at the time, but she had a way of acting as if one's compliance were a foregone conclusion, and he'd never stood a chance.

To her credit, despite how much she might be enjoying her night, she made a point to always come home before his complicity came to light and he got in trouble. Trusting her had never let him down. He wondered what preposterous thing she was planning on wringing from him now.

Her next words were anything but reassuring. "Dinner. Spill."

He never should have opened up to her about his developing feelings for Josh. For weeks now, there was no chance to needle him that she didn't take. It would have been naive of him to try and keep his feelings hidden, though. She knew. Of course she knew. She always knew the important things about him, even the ones he'd have preferred to keep to himself. All but one, to this day. He hoped he was less transparent in Josh's eyes; the last thing he wanted was to make Josh's stay an uncomfortable one.

"There's very little to, as you put it, spill," he began, the uplifted corners of his lips belying his words. "You abandoned us. We went to dinner. We came home."

Her irises might shake, but she saw through him with ruthless efficiency. "Not leaving until you talk. Have all day."

Emery adjusted his glasses in a bid to gain time. It wasn't that he didn't want to tell her — it was more that he feared the night would become ridiculous to his own ears, when described aloud. That and the possibility of Josh overhearing. Just where was Josh, anyway?

"Minion's out shopping," she replied before he could ask. "Sent him to get a suit. So he can get primped up next time."

He felt the color draining from his face. Josh had seemed self-conscious enough the night before without Emma underscoring that his clothes didn't measure up to an imaginary standard. He —

"Oh, stop," she interrupted.

He sometimes thought it would be nice to be able to voice his thoughts before she addressed them; then he remembered how much he had missed her uncanny ability to read him, before Josh had brought the Emma he knew back from wherever she had chosen to go, and his irritation faded.

"Minion was dying to go. Now spill. Dinner."

It wouldn't do to have this conversation while sitting on the other side of the desk. Giving up the pretense of getting any sort of work done before Emma's curiosity was appeased, Emery rose to sit on the guest chair. His mind saw fit to inform him that it was more Josh's chair than anyone else's these days. That something that paltry would endear a chair in his eyes was revealing.

"Dinner," he repeated, "included strawberry milkshake. Which, before you begin extolling the virtues of chocolate to its detriment, Josh seemed to enjoy a great deal."

She didn't argue his choice of flavors, as he'd imagined, or ask for any sordid detail she might have envisioned. Instead she reached out an arm and wrapped it around his shoulders, her other hand relieving him of his glasses and setting them on his desk. He lay his head on her shoulder, anticipating what came next. Just as he'd expected, he felt the comfort of fingers running through his hair, bringing forth memories of being a small boy with a skinned knee and a bruised ego. She could make him both miss their mother and feel her presence in the same breath.

The strategy to leave him complacent before the hammer hit was disgustingly obvious, and yet it worked every time.

"You don't like him," she said, reading him like an open book. "You love him."

"I do." There'd be no point in denying it. It was a logical conclusion based on where he'd chosen to take Josh. He'd never taken anyone to that particular place before — his last meal with Emma and their parents had taken place there, and the weight it held for him had been transformed by that knowledge. For some reason, he'd never even tried to take Simon, although—

No. Some things he'd promised himself long ago not to dwell on.

He'd done a passable job of making his choice of restaurant appear casual the night before, and, while Josh had no way of knowing what it meant to him, Emma couldn't pretend not to know. There was nothing to be done for it. "But it isn't that simple."

"Yes it is. You complicate it. Always have. Stop complicating."

He let out a measured breath. Her view wasn't an unbiased one. Emma saw him through the eyes of an older sister; through the lens of love that had been present from the day he'd been born. He didn't think she'd ever understand how objectively disappointing he would be, for any length of time, to a man like Josh.

Perhaps not in the most obvious, most superficial of ways — he was reasonably sure he was competent in that arena. But in everything else? That she believed someone who could have anyone — someone whose very mission in life was to better the lives of everyone he touched — would have a use for Emery's buttoned-up blandness and workaholic tendencies was proof enough that there was no point in even attempting to explain.

"Maybe," he said instead, closing his eyes and giving in to flights of fancy. "Remind me again why you believe he'd be open to the possibility."

"Minion went to get a suit," she underscored, in a tone that implied he was daft. "You think that was for me?"

No, it wasn't for her, but it wasn't for Emery either. Josh had felt underdressed the night before, Emery could tell. There was no subtext in his choice to ensure that wouldn't happen again. But then he hadn't asked Emma why she thought it was feasible because he wanted a sensible debate on the subject. He nodded, careful not to disturb her fingers in his hair, and prodded, "Fair enough. What else?"