When I Was Theirs

11. Emmy

11

Emmy

“ E milia!”

I jump as Angelo peers over my shoulder. “Sorry, Angelo.”

He huffs as he takes in the pitiful excuse of a bouquet I’ve been fiddling with all morning. “Your head is not here today. Do it again.”

No, it’s not.

I glance at the door again, but he doesn’t walk through.

It’s just a headache.

Another headache.

One that kept Ben in bed this morning. I left him in my apartment, his eyes half-open after he spent the night bent over the toilet, vomiting.

Just a bug.

My shaking hands manage to accidently cut the head off a calla lily, and I swear, dropping the rest to the table and gripping it.

“Go.”

I whirl at the sound of Angelo’s voice. He’s frowning. “Go, Emmy. Do what you need to do and come back when your head is empty.”

I hesitate. “I’m really sorry. I know I’ve been distracted—,”

“It’s alright,” he says gruffly. “Go on. Before you kill all of my flowers.”

He nudges me out of the way, apron already in place as he reaches for the bouquet I nearly butchered and tuts. His eyes slide to mine. “Go now.”

This is ridiculous , I tell myself. I’m nearly running, ducking between people as I head toward my apartment. He’s fine.

Everyone is allowed a sick day.

I’m calling his name before my door is even open. “Ben?”

I rush through my apartment, into my bedroom, and blink at the empty bed. “Ben!”

“Emmy?”

I spin, almost sagging in relief when he appears in the doorway, a towel slung around his hips and water snaking down his chest.

Taking a step, I pause. Ben tilts his head. “What’s the matter?”

I’m staring at his bare skin. At his chest. His shoulders, his arms.

So familiar to me now. And yet… not.

Because something is different. Something I can’t put my finger on.

Ben looks a little confused as I throw myself into him, but his arms are solid as they wrap around me. “Hey. What’s all this? Did something happen?”

I shake my head into his bare chest. He’s warm from the shower, droplets of water soaking into me. “Doesn’t matter. How are you feeling?”

“Better.” There’s a hint of suspicion in his tone. “Why aren’t you at work?”

I shrug, swallowing down my panic and forcing a smile up instead. “We were quiet. Angelo gave me a half-day.”

“Hmmm.” He hums against me as I close my eyes and listen. It's so fast. As if he's going to take flight. “So you have a few hours before your bar shift?”

I nod into his skin. “I’m a little tired, though. Maybe a movie?”

I wait for him to argue. He likes being outside. But Ben only sighs, his hand stroking the back of my head.

“That sounds good to me.”