William.”
“I know, but it seems like it’s more. This seems bigger than our normal.”
“Emma,” I hear my dad call from the living room.
“Showtime,” my mom giggles. “And Lord help us when your dad sees this dress.”
I roll my eyes but laugh because it’s not as immodest as he will think, but he’d be happy if I were in a burlap sack with a chastity belt. I step into the living room and meet Will’s eyes. “Hi,” I mouth. His eyes roam my body, causing me to shiver and he hasn’t touched me. His look sets me afire, and I don’t hide my reaction to him.
“Where is the rest of that dress, young lady?”
I break my stare and turn to my dad. “On my body. Will it help if I tell you it was half off because all the material wasn’t included?”
“Not funny. Phoebe, you let her buy this?”
“No, Luke. I let you buy it. Check the credit card statement. The shoes, as well.” His gaze snaps to her, and she is trying hard not to laugh. “Relax, caveman. Everything is covered, she looks beautiful. Now tell your daughter you’re sorry for starting her night off on the wrong foot, give her a kiss, let me get some pictures, and they can leave. And you can pour me a glass of wine.”
Their stare-off lasts all of ten seconds.
“You do look beautiful, baby girl. You sure you want to go?”
“Yes, Dad. More than anything.” I see sadness pass in his eyes, but he quickly covers it. I don’t know who this growing up shit affects worse…him or me. “I love you.” I kiss his cheek and hug him, lingering a bit longer . . . for both of us.
“Love you.” He turns to William. “No funny business. She’s to be home at 11:30, and don’t let anything happen to her.”
“Yes sir.” Will nods at him. My mom appears with her camera and poses us. Right before the flash blinds me, he leans down, whispering, “You are the most beautiful girl in the world, Ems.” I turn my head and meet his eyes. My blue staring into his brown. My smile mirrors his. Our hearts beat in sync. Our worlds collide.
Chapter Eight
William
Words fail me. I stare as Emma walks into the room, and it can scarcely contain the beauty she emits. Blue eyes sparkle fighting for attention among the silver material covering her tanned body. I’m speechless. I feel as tongue-tied as I did when I was first adopted, a toddler taken from Honduras and my native language of Spanish. Suddenly being thrust into a foreign country and hearing a completely different language I wasn’t used to made me clam up. I didn’t speak for months, but the speech therapist made my transition easier for me. In no time at all, I was speaking fluent English. I didn’t do much talking at the orphanage. It was like a third world country. We didn’t have names, just ‘baby boy’ on our birth certificates. Since then, words became my friend, and I learned and used as many as I could.
Until now when I can’t find any to tell her what she does to me…what she makes me feel.
Inarticulate, I stare at her, communicate the way we did all those years ago. She wasn’t old enough to talk, but I knew what she wanted before her cries could start just as she knew when I needed reassurance and would refuse to go to anyone but me. We calm each other’s storms; we are the peace to one another’s turbulence, and the beacon to each other’s light. When I have her next to me, I can speak. I tell her how beautiful she is and never has a term been so inadequate, so inept at capturing everything she is. She turns to me, and the flash momentarily stuns me. Phoebe’s face lights up as she looks at the image on her camera. “This one is frame worthy if I say so myself.”
“Don’t hold back, Mom.” Emma laughs breathlessly.
“I’d like a copy, please.”
“Of course, William. At least someone has faith in my masterpiece.”
“Stick to the pink shoes.” Luke pulls the camera from her. While he is distracted looking back through the photos, Phoebe
“I know, but it seems like it’s more. This seems bigger than our normal.”
“Emma,” I hear my dad call from the living room.
“Showtime,” my mom giggles. “And Lord help us when your dad sees this dress.”
I roll my eyes but laugh because it’s not as immodest as he will think, but he’d be happy if I were in a burlap sack with a chastity belt. I step into the living room and meet Will’s eyes. “Hi,” I mouth. His eyes roam my body, causing me to shiver and he hasn’t touched me. His look sets me afire, and I don’t hide my reaction to him.
“Where is the rest of that dress, young lady?”
I break my stare and turn to my dad. “On my body. Will it help if I tell you it was half off because all the material wasn’t included?”
“Not funny. Phoebe, you let her buy this?”
“No, Luke. I let you buy it. Check the credit card statement. The shoes, as well.” His gaze snaps to her, and she is trying hard not to laugh. “Relax, caveman. Everything is covered, she looks beautiful. Now tell your daughter you’re sorry for starting her night off on the wrong foot, give her a kiss, let me get some pictures, and they can leave. And you can pour me a glass of wine.”
Their stare-off lasts all of ten seconds.
“You do look beautiful, baby girl. You sure you want to go?”
“Yes, Dad. More than anything.” I see sadness pass in his eyes, but he quickly covers it. I don’t know who this growing up shit affects worse…him or me. “I love you.” I kiss his cheek and hug him, lingering a bit longer . . . for both of us.
“Love you.” He turns to William. “No funny business. She’s to be home at 11:30, and don’t let anything happen to her.”
“Yes sir.” Will nods at him. My mom appears with her camera and poses us. Right before the flash blinds me, he leans down, whispering, “You are the most beautiful girl in the world, Ems.” I turn my head and meet his eyes. My blue staring into his brown. My smile mirrors his. Our hearts beat in sync. Our worlds collide.
Chapter Eight
William
Words fail me. I stare as Emma walks into the room, and it can scarcely contain the beauty she emits. Blue eyes sparkle fighting for attention among the silver material covering her tanned body. I’m speechless. I feel as tongue-tied as I did when I was first adopted, a toddler taken from Honduras and my native language of Spanish. Suddenly being thrust into a foreign country and hearing a completely different language I wasn’t used to made me clam up. I didn’t speak for months, but the speech therapist made my transition easier for me. In no time at all, I was speaking fluent English. I didn’t do much talking at the orphanage. It was like a third world country. We didn’t have names, just ‘baby boy’ on our birth certificates. Since then, words became my friend, and I learned and used as many as I could.
Until now when I can’t find any to tell her what she does to me…what she makes me feel.
Inarticulate, I stare at her, communicate the way we did all those years ago. She wasn’t old enough to talk, but I knew what she wanted before her cries could start just as she knew when I needed reassurance and would refuse to go to anyone but me. We calm each other’s storms; we are the peace to one another’s turbulence, and the beacon to each other’s light. When I have her next to me, I can speak. I tell her how beautiful she is and never has a term been so inadequate, so inept at capturing everything she is. She turns to me, and the flash momentarily stuns me. Phoebe’s face lights up as she looks at the image on her camera. “This one is frame worthy if I say so myself.”
“Don’t hold back, Mom.” Emma laughs breathlessly.
“I’d like a copy, please.”
“Of course, William. At least someone has faith in my masterpiece.”
“Stick to the pink shoes.” Luke pulls the camera from her. While he is distracted looking back through the photos, Phoebe
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