Page 30 of Your Rule to Break
“As long as she’ll still have me.” I turn to her, hitting my knee to hers.
Her mom chimes in, like the ray of fucking sunshine she is. “So, you’re dating. Exclusively?” The doubt gets stronger with each syllable.
Emilie doesn’t move. She is frozen.
“Yeah.” I try not to sound weird but it’s fucking hard because this conversation is bonkers. “I’ve always had my eye on her, to be honest.”
“Tell us about your first date,” Eliza jumps in, trying to pin us against a wall. I know Emilie mentioned this as a possibility, but I thought she was exaggerating.
“Eliza. What are you doing?” Emilie chides, eyeing her sister with what I’d call comfortable distaste.
“Oh, I love this story. Let me tell it.” I put my hand on Emilie’s knee and give it a squeeze, before leaning forward, my forearms on my knees. “I knew from Tripp and Willow how obsessed Emilie is with this bakery. It’s a couple blocks from her place and she always orders the same latte and gets a croissant. I heard her mention to Willow, one time when we were all out somewhere, that she wished she knew how to make croissants. So, I called the bakery and asked if they’d do an after-hours event, just her and I.” I pause to steal a look at Emilie, and she’s trying not to look surprised. I lean back to tell the rest of the story, so I can look from Emilie to her family.
“When I told her our date would have leftovers, she agreed. They taught us how to make croissant dough, and they gave her the recipe for the latte she’s obsessed with.”
“Croissants take more than one day to make,” Eliza sneers, speculating that I’m not telling the truth.
“We learned that. We picked them up when they were ready a few days later.” Before I can get the end of my sentence out, Emilie wraps her arm around my arm closest to her and lays her head on my shoulder—just for a few seconds.
Eliza and Mitch watch the two of us, like they’re waiting for us to slip up.
“Best croissants I’ve had to date,” Emilie croons, her chin on my shoulder.
“Did you hear that Mitch got a promotion?” Elaine says to what I’m assuming is Emilie. The change in subject is jarring. Like, they won’t let her take up even the smallest amount of space, even though it was a question someone else asked.
My brows furrow and irritation hits me like a wave. Emilie squeezes my arm. I look to her and she shakes her head in the smallest ‘no.’
“No, I didn’t. Why don’t you tell us about it, Mitch?” She enunciates every letter in his name like it’s a dare.
Mitch launches into a boring rendition of his new responsibilities. Her parents laugh and ask follow-up questions. Eliza leans into him and smiles like the dutiful fiancé. He looks at me a few times, I think to see if I’m still listening, which I am—unfortunately. Emilie wears the fakest of smiles, one she’s probably practiced for years.
The difference in how they speak to Eliza and Emilie is absolute bullshit. The long awaited sunshine versus the persistent thunderstorm. It’s like Eliza can do no wrong, but Emilie can do nothing right.
My skin itches witheach minute that passes. We’re finally almost done with dinner; Eliza and Mitch have been going on and on about the wedding and I’ve been staring at my plate, trying to count the ridges on the edge.
“Emilie, where’d you get that dress?”
“Oh, it’s a designer that Keegan is working with. Isn’t it fun?” Emilie’s eyes brighten when she looks down at it, and then to her mom. The fabric, flowy and light pink, is the perfect shade to match her light complexion and hair. It bunches in at her waist, showing off her figure, and isn’t too short—it hits about mid-thigh.
“I do like the color. I feel like you should’ve sized up though, yes?” Elaine smiles through the backhanded compliment.
I set my fork on my plate and reach over to Emilie, placing a hand on her knee. Who says shit like that? Let alone a mom talking to one of her kids.
“I love EJ in this dress. It’s one of my favorites.” I look at Emilie, not her poor excuse of a family. She beams when I use the nickname I learned about in the car. Everyone crinkles their brows when I say “EJ.”
It’s the smallest act of defiance, a subtle “fuck you” for the people who are supposed to treat her with kindness and respect. Instead, they make things difficult.
“Like I said, the color is spectacular.” Elaine tries to smooth me over but it doesn’t work.
I make it a point to dramatically look at my watch. “I didn’t know it was so late. Emilie and I actually have to get going. I’ve got something at the Cosmos facility tonight.”
Emilie doesn’t look surprised when I stand up from the table. Instead, she looks relieved as she grabs her purse. Biting my tongue with these people, who are supposed to love and support Emilie, is fucking hard.
“If you ever want to come to a Cosmos game, let EJ know and I’ll take care of it.” It’s not that I ever want to spend more time with these people, but my mom taught me to be kind to people even when they don’t deserve it.
Emilie smirks when I call her EJ for the second time tonight.
“Count me in!” Mitch screams. To be fair, he doesn’t seem that bad, until you remember the whole him marrying his ex’s little sister thing. It says a lot that he’s my favorite of the bunch.