Emma pushed herself off the car and shoved her hands into her coat. “All right, fine. I know I should’ve, but it’s a lot more complicated than that.”
Jules muttered something under her breath as she unlatched the front gate, which creaked open. Her parents’ cars were covered in a thin layer of snow, parked side by side in the driveway, and the front lawn looked like it had seen better days with its overgrown weeds and stooping trees, looking like they’d be uprooted at the slightest disturbance. On the front porch, Emma paused with her hand halfway to the door and tried to muster up as much strength and courage as she could.
She was sure she was going to be sick or pass out.
Emma wasn’t ready to see her parents, not even close, and her entire body seizing up and breaking out into a cold sweat was her biggest giveaway.
Her parents were going to take one look at her and know she didn’t want to be there.
Eventually, it was Jules who knocked after giving her mom an exasperated look.
A few moments later, the door swung open, revealing Marie Sullivan, silver and blond bob sleeked to perfection. She held a whisk in one hand, and an apron with Christmas decorations was wrapped around her waist. She made a low noise in the back of her throat, the whisk dropping to the floor as she glanced between the two of them. Then, Jules was pulled into a hug that lasted a long time. When Jules drew back, Emma stepped forward and got pulled into a loose hug. She awkwardly patted her mother on the back, counting to ten before she slipped away.
Showing any kind of physical affection around her mom still felt strange, especially with the weight of the last few years pressed between them.
“What a lovely surprise.” Marie beamed, pausing to usher them through the door. “Don’t stand outside in the cold. Come in, come in. Henry! Henry! Look who’s at the door.”
Emma ducked and stepped inside, her stomach twisting as the familiar smells of gingerbread cookies and Chanel No. 5 perfume hit her.
For the umpteenth time, she wondered what she was doing there, acting like nothing had transpired between them.
Marie draped an arm over Jules’s shoulders and steered them into the living room, where red-and-orange flames crackled in the fireplace, and the TV above the mantel droned on softly, playing an animated Christmas movie Emma didn’t recognize. A few garlands and streamers were thrown all over the house, but other than that, it was a lot more colorless and dull than she remembered.
Emma was surprised the tree wasn’t up already.
In all of the years since she’d known them, her parents never missed an opportunity to spruce up the house, making it look like something out of Santa’s workshop.
Up close, the walls were bare, and there was a distinct chill in the air that Emma couldn’t quite put her finger on.
She didn’t remember the house being this quiet or still.
Growing up, she used to joke that their house always looked like Santa’s elves had taken over, as if Christmas had thrown up everywhere. Emma had no idea why it lacked its usual color and twinkle, but she knew it made her feel weird.
Like she was stepping into a stranger’s house.
A door opened somewhere, and her father came in, his once towering frame having grown smaller. His face bore a gauntness Emma didn’t remember. With a jolt, she stepped forward to hug him, surprised when she could feel his bones through his checkered shirt and pants. Her father didn’t say anything as hegave her a quick pat on the back and drew away, dark eyes tight and apprehensive.
The salt and pepper in his hair was even more evident when he sat at the kitchen table and mustered up a smile. “I would’ve picked you guys up if I had known you were coming.”
“We wanted to surprise you,” Jules said, her voice rising toward the end. “You look good, Grandpa.”
Henry waved her comment away. “Thank you for trying to indulge an old man. How are your studies? Have you written any hard-hitting pieces yet?”
Jules laughed. “There’s still time, Grandpa. I’m not in a hurry.”
Marie squeezed Jules’s shoulders before returning to the tray of cookies and her piping bag. “We’re so happy the two of you are here. How long are you staying?”
Three pairs of eyes turned to Emma, making sweat rise on the back of her neck.
Why did it feel like she was being put under the microscope?
She’d shown up when summoned, hadn’t she?
Why couldn’t that be enough?
Why did they have to go through the motions and pretend like nothing was broken?
“I’m not sure yet,” Emma admitted after a lengthy pause. “I just thought I’d check in when I saw the letter.”
