Lemming 2.7: What Really Matters

      Emmett puts my feet back on the ground and takes a step back, holding my hand. I close my eyes against the intense expression in his, and I feel his hand reach up and stroke my cheek.
      I guess I'm doing it again. I'm in a real relationship again. It's Emmett this time, sweet, singularly-focused Emmett, the Emmett I had a crush on until Hugo helped me get over his rejection. Then, Emmett grew up and realized there was more to life than school and books. Then...Hugo...and...
     "Are you okay?" Emmett asks.
     "How do I know?" I ask, not explaining myself. "I mean, how do I know you won't..." I can't finish.
     "I will never do what he did, Jenny," he says gently.
     "Everybody has their breaking point," I counter.
     "Then his was set much too low. Jenny, even if you attacked me, I wouldn't retaliate. I was raised better than that."
     My hand starts shaking in his, and he lightly squeezes it, his thumb running back and forth across the back of it.

       I pull my hand free and wipe under my eyes before the tears can fall. Emmett is so wonderful. What if I ruin him? What if it was my fault that Hugo hit me? I made him lose it.
      "Jenny, I'm okay with taking a step back again if this has turned out to be too much," he says carefully.
      "What if it's all a bad idea?" I say in a choked up voice. "What if it was me that made him snap?"
      "Stop that train of thought right there," he tells me sternly.
      Why is this coming up NOW? Why haven't I put these worries aside already? I guess it took actually taking that step with Emmett to bring these emotions up.
      He wipes my cheeks and takes my hands.

       "Do you know? I thought the same things for months," he admits while looking at my hands.
       "You think you caused him to snap?" I ask, my surprise showing through my voice.
       He offers up a half-smile crossed with a wince. "He told me to stay away from you. He threatened me that if I tried anything that he'd be sure I'd regret it. He gave the reason that you didn't need to be confused, that you were happy and I shouldn't mess with that. I didn't want to test him, so I did as he asked, well, ordered. It was true; I thought you were happy. I told myself I'd blown it when we were teens and that now I was paying for it. So, I kept my distance. Then, you brought me that second painting, and I couldn't help it: I stepped across that line and hugged you. I don't know how, but somehow, he found out about it."
     There was once a time when hearing a story like this about Hugo would've seemed unbelievable, but having seen Hugo's bad side the hard way, I believe Emmett. Still, I need to correct him.
     "You think that's why he snapped?" I ask incredulously.
     "Yes."
     "No. He snapped because I started screaming at him." I can't get Emmett's eyes to meet mine.
     "Well, I'd thought I'd put in a major contribution to his mood. If I'd just declined the painting and not touched you, he wouldn't have gotten furious and hit you."
     "Emmett..."
     A happier half-smile shows up, and his eyes finally meet mine. "Do you at least see where thoughts like these get you? Get us?"
     "The point is that he shouldn't have done what he did, whatever caused him to snap," I say definitively.

     "Yes," he readily agrees and kisses my fingers. I sense a reigned-in passion from him that begs to be released. "That was my eventual conclusion." He turns one hand over and kisses my palm, and my knees start shaking with the sensual feel of his lips on more sensitive skin.
     "I really don't want to talk about him," I decide.
     "But...is this too much? You never answered that question," he reminds me, and he momentarily squeezes my hands with his fingers before loosening them.
     "It's not too much," I say, and he releases a held breath, "but I... Well, I... can't help but worry."
     "Okay," he says, surprising me.
     "Huh?"

     "It's okay that you worry. I don't want you to worry, but the best way to prove to you that I will never do that is time. Before this afternoon, we were only a little more than friends, but now, now I have another way I can finally show you how much I love you."
      Um..a...eh? He said love.
       Emmett smiles, probably also realizing what he'd just said. "Let me prove it."
       This is Emmett Crews saying this to me, I think while little bubbles repeatedly pop in my stomach. I have to remind myself to breathe.
       Then, a glow fills me while I look at the man standing in front of me, holding my hands and baring his heart. He's so... so... For a moment, all I can think is 'grown up,' but that's not the term I want, even if it's part of what I'm thinking. So true...honest... and it's HOT.
      For the second time this afternoon, I throw my arms around his neck and kiss him. His reaction this time isn't as gentle as before. He kisses me hard, lightly fisting his hand in my hair to hold me to him. His other arm crushes me to him while his lips beg me to understand his feelings. For only half a second, I think about being scared, but it's fleeting and evaporates as I kiss him back.
      Eventually, he leaves my mouth to kiss my neck and chin, and I run my fingers through the longer hair on the top of the back of his head. His haircut suits him.
      "Let's order a pizza," I say after my stomach grumbles.
      Emmett laughs happily, and we walk hand-in-hand back to our duplex.

     A week goes by, and I enter the actual artist career path. Thankfully, the hours coincide well with Emmett's job.
     Emmett sticks to his promise to prove to me the kind of man he is. He never pushes for more, relishing in being able to kiss me. We do quite a lot of that. Justin accuses us of abandoning him, complaining he's had to form pick-up-groups in the game, but he's also thrilled that his best friend is dating his sister. Emmett tells him to stop worrying about the game and pay more attention to Annalise.

     I have Mom over for dinner one night so she can officially meet Emmett. She's still in the adult phase of life. She'd taken a youth potion when I was a kid, saying she still had stuff she wanted to accomplish.
     She takes a seat next to Emmett, and I watch her eyes size him up like a piece of meat. Mom!
     "Does Jenny not give you enough time to eat, Emmett?" Mom asks suggestively. "You're thin."
     Emmett keeps his gaze forward and swallows hard while I complain, "Mom!"

     I know Mom, so I know I'd better give her the answer she's looking for or she'll keep trying different things until she gets it. I sigh. "Yes, Mom. We're too busy to eat."
     Now this Emmett doesn't look prepared for at all, and he reaches up to run his fingertips along his forehead. He gives me a worried look, and I wink at him, telling him to chill.
     Mom replies, "Well, you should remember that you need to eat. You have more energy that way, you know."
     Emmett looks like he wants to sink under the table. Still, he says, "Ms. Keilani-"
     Uh oh.
     "Gillian," Mom harshly corrects him. Then, her voice sounds sweeter, "But just call me Monique."
     Is Mom flirting with my boyfriend?
     "I apologize," he says, meaning he's sorry for assuming Mom has the same last name I do. He clears his throat. "Monique," he says, and Mom bats her eyes at him, "Jenny and I are eating healthy and exercising, especially after what happened to her father."
     "Oh, you mean the heart attack Mitchell had," she says crassly. "Well, I figured it was a matter of time. After all, the man hardly has a heart to begin with-"
     "Mom," I say sternly, "please don't talk about Daddy like that in front of me." Ever since Dad threw Mom out, Mom has repeatedly convinced me that Daddy was scum, and I've had to remind myself every time that she was full of crap. I'm tired of listening to it.
     Emmett smiles encouragingly at me, and Mom shrugs, not fazed at all by my scolding her.

     Through the dinner, she makes other inappropriate comments, but Emmett and I successfully shake off each one. I am so embarrassed by my mother, and in some ways, I'm just like her! Do I behave like this?
     "I like him," Mom tells me quietly while Emmett escapes to do some dishes.

     My swanky work duds. The Maker has no idea where this came from. She figures it's part of the art career because Her artistic daughter is known for dressing like this (with no obvious rhyme or reason).

     Emmett doesn't mind.
     We're on an actual date! He convinced me to go out after he came home from work. He finally got a promotion to level 3.
     The Maker can't stand it anymore and has me change clothes.

     I worry that Emmett worries that I haven't told him that I love him. He's told me twice, both times like they accidentally slipped out. I think he doesn't expect me to tell him. I'm glad in a way, but also, I wish I could be comfortable enough to tell him.
     I know that if I brought it up that he'd just wave it off and tell me that he understands that I need to take things in a cautiously slow manner. He's just happy we're together--at whatever phase.

     He makes me feel special...and normal. When I'm with him, my insane trait almost disappears. If I've done something in an odd way, it only occurs to me later because he acts at the time like that's how whatever-it-was is supposed to be done.

     When The Maker moved Emmett and me in together, Emmett was suddenly about twelve days older than me when we should be the same age. He aged to full adult, and this is what he looks like. However, She went in and de-aged him back to young adult with plans to age him up when I age up.

     While doing that, She noticed something.... someone missing...

      My dad died!
      This stupid game didn't notify me at all, and there's no urn, no tombstone, no nothing to use to mourn. That is beyond lame. I go to Dad's house and look for something, and there's nothing. NOTHING!
     I look around the living room and have a zillion memories come back to me, everything from Emmett turning me down to Dad telling Mom to leave to Hugo telling me he liked me. Too many bad memories...even the good ones tainted by bad circumstances to follow.

     I go and have a seat on his bed, trying to commune with his spirit. My mood lifts when I think of some of his silly jokes. He could always make people laugh.
     The paintings behind me, Mom painted those. I wonder if he ever told Katherine. He never took them down. I leave them put.
     I go home. That's when the tears hit...hard. Emmett comes home from work at about that moment, and he holds me while I cry, both of us standing silently on the sidewalk.
     I don't want to be alone in my apartment tonight. I miss my Daddy, and I can't help but remember that first night after Hugo hit me how Daddy stayed with me, making me feel safe.

      I sleep in Emmett's bed tonight. We stay fully-clothed and on top of the sheets. Sometimes, he holds me, but mostly we just lie facing each other and talking.

      That is, until we both pass out from exhaustion.

      I wake up to the smell of pancakes, and when I open my eyes, I'm momentarily confused as to where I am, then I remember I'm at Emmett's apartment.
      I drowsily make my way to the kitchen. In the trashcan in front of me, I see about six or so burnt pancakes. Sweet Emmett stands at the stove, and a very small stack of pancakes rests on a plate next to him. The simple sight warms my heart. He tries so hard to get things right, perfectly right which isn't really necessary, but I know that's what he wants.
     He flips the next batch of pancakes over, and I wait for him to finish that task before I quietly say, "Good morning."
     A surprised expression controls his face before he smiles at me and crosses the room to wrap his arms around me.
     "Good morning," he echoes and kisses my forehead. "I'm trying to make pancakes, and I think some might be edible."
     I laugh at his insecure way of describing his cooking ability, and I tell myself that everything will be okay. I may have lost my Daddy, but I found a man that's like him in so many ways.
     We both call in and take a vacation day before we sit down to eat his actually-very-good pancakes. Afterwards, he goes to check his email, and I offer to do the dishes. He tries to stop me, but I won't hear of it. Once I finish, I go into the living room.

      "Thank you," I tell him when he hops up out of his chair and wraps his arms around me.
      "For fixing a sustainable amount of edible and not burnt food?" he laughingly asks.
      I smile a small smile. "Well, there's that. But I mean for last night too. You know...I'm not good at handling stuff. I feel better this morning than I expected I would."
      "What else would a good boyfriend do?" he asks with a smile mirroring mine, relishing the word 'boyfriend.'
       I continue, "I'll miss Daddy, but I know at the same time that I'm going to be okay."
      He runs his fingers through my hair. "And don't be upset if the crying returns. I read that's normal. And of course, I'll be here."
      I have to say it!

      "I love you, Emmett," I tell him simply. I could list all the reasons I do, but what really matters is that I do.
      He quickly blinks once, takes in a big breath, holds it for several seconds, and lets it out.