Back to Me (Book Three ✓)

forty-six

EMMA

My legs swing back and forth in the high stool, my face cupped in my left hand as I rummage through the left-over pastries with the sticky fingers of my right.

I'm still in my dress - it's not every day I get to wear such pretty dresses. It's pink and puffy and I look like a princess. So I'm also careful not to get any crumbs on it.

As I pop a small, perfectly symmetrical cake into my mouth, I watch my mother, leaning on the island, a long-stemmed wine glass rolling between her fingers lazily. The deep burgundy liquid sloshes slowly as she hums to herself. It's the same song from earlier, the one she danced to with Daddy.

I wanted to dance with Daddy. He said we will - plenty of times. Today was special for Mommy.

But I wanted it to be like Mommy and Daddy's dance though: with people watching and wearing fancy clothes. Like a ball.

Again, Daddy just said we will. At something called my wedding.

All I know is that it seems like a long time to wait.

"Aren't you tired from the party?" Mommy smiles at me sweetly, only the very last of her lipstick still lining her full lips. I didn't know it then, but she was probably exhausted, ready for her seven year old to tuck into bed for the night.

"Nope." I smile back, teeth full of chocolate frosting. "I want a party that big someday, Mama."

My parents celebrated their fifteenth wedding anniversary in the backyard of the lake-house. Only it didn't look like our lake-house. It was like a fairytale.

A large white tent kept us protected from the sun all day, the breeze off the water keeping it the perfect temperature: not too hot, not too chilly. Flowers, in shades of soft pinks and purples, covered most surfaces in tall vases and baskets, wrapped in gorgeous silk ribbons.

All of our family came, and Mommy and Daddy's friends, and some of my friends, too. Everyone wore pretty clothes and high-heels. And makeup. Mommy said I couldn't wear that yet.

I pop a tart into my mouth and Mommy gives me a look. That look. The not-so-good look.

"Emma. You're going to get a belly ache if you keep eating all those treats." Her lips curve up as she took a sip of her wine and I know she's not really mad.

"No." I argue, rubbing my tummy for emphasis. "My belly never hurts from cake."

That is sort of a lie. The food was yummy today, too. There was so much, in fancy silver things. People in black ties and white shirts put it on our plates. Mommy said they got the cheese pizza just for me.

So my belly is full. But I still want treats.

I'm not supposed to lie, but there's one mini lemon pie left and I want to eat it. So I do, the sugary powder exploding from me in a cloud as I giggle at Mommy's silly face.

Now I've got it on my dress.

Her mouth makes a big O. "Emma!"

I laugh harder and then she's laughing too, kissing my hair. I lean against her chest, the smell of her perfume almost as good as a lullaby. Vanilla and roses.

"Did you have fun today, baby?" Her hand strokes my head and I can hear Daddy about to come inside, the familiar rattle of the garage door letting me know that he's done outside.

"Mhm." My grin fades as I scrunch my nose in disgust. "It was kinda yucky seeing you kiss Daddy so much."

Mommy smiles again and her voice makes me sleepy as she pulls me to her chest, wrapping my legs around her waist and lifting me from the stool.