The second the door clicked shut behind Lorraine, the air turned very cold. I clutched the handle of my suitcase like it was a lifeline, forcing a smile I didn't really feel, hoping we could just laugh it off as a joke. Because the alternative was homelessness.
"I didn't know she could spell," I told him in my defense.
"She's seven, Emilia," Carson said
He didn't yell. His voice was low, flat like he was commenting on the weather. It was so much worse because I could feel how angry he was.
I stopped smiling. Apparently, it wasn't funny. Jeez, Emilia! Way to rock the boat!
I exhaled, rubbing my palm over my eyes, trying to push back the hot pressure building behind them. When I looked at him, I let it all out in a shaky whisper.
"I'm sorry, okay?" I told him. He deserved that much. "I'm sorry I'm here. I'm sorry I have nowhere else to go, and so you're forced to blow up your life and upset your daughters for a marriage that was supposed to be fake. I'm sorry I fell in love with Preston or got pregnant by him. I'm sorry your wife is dead."
When I mentioned his wife's name, he looked up at me, for moment, I thought he was going to lose his temper.
He didn't. Which was a miracle...but I just had to keep pushing. Kept tugging at the lose thread until it unraveled.
I took a ragged breath and held his gaze. "But I'm not sorry about Carrie. She is an ass-wiping bitch who thinks she can call me useless in front of your daughter and think I'll sit quietly and take it!"
I waited for the explosion. For him to yell, to tell me to get out. It came but as a whisper instead.
"Is everything about getting even with you, Emilia?"
He looked at me. His eyes, usually so warm, were just… disappointed. And I hated it more than any amount of screaming.
"I wouldn't have called her a bitch if she didn't badmouth me in front of Lorraine," I tried to explain, my voice begging him to take my side. I hated that he was taking the bitch's side.
He didn't say a word. He just turned around and almost made it to the door before he stopped to say "Liliana is off limits, Emilia Vanderbilt. If you want to live here...in my house, you will refrain from mentioning my dead wife or dragging her into your shenanigans, do you understand me?"
He walked out of the room, didn't even stick around to hear my response. The quiet click was louder than a slam.
I stood there, frozen. Fighting the tears that were beginning to gather in my eyes.
Was I supposed to stay after that? Was I supposed to pick up my bags and just...go? I walked to the door, my hand hovering over the knob... undecided.
From the hallway, I heard a little chanting voice echoing. "B-I-T-C-H. Bitch! B-I-T-C-H…"
That was it. I had to go now. Carrie might have been the bitch, but I was the adult. I'd messed up... badly.
I couldn't possibly stay here and be an inconvenience to him.
And so, I grabbed my bag and slipped out, trying to be quiet. I'd just made it to the hallway when I stopped.
A tiny person was blocking my path. A two-year-old, in nothing but a diaper, with a snotty nose and a head full of blonde curls. She just stared up at me with big, hazel eyes.
Reya Gibbs.
She lifted her chubby arms up, making a little "uppa" sound.
My heart melted a little. I bent down and picked her up. She was warm and solid...and good. She didn't judge me based on Internet posts like Joni or judge me based on words of a babysitter who was a stranger until a few minutes ago like Lorraine. She was just a bubbly little thing with perfect smile.
"You must be Reya," I cooed, adjusting her on my hip. "It's nice to meet you, ReRe."
In response, she grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked. Typical Gibbs genes! She wouldn't be one of his if she didn't have that fire.
"Ouch! Okay, okay," I laughed, carefully prying her fingers loose. It was nice to know one Gibbs kid didn't find me completely hateful.
"Give her to me."
Joni appeared out of nowhere, practically snatching Reya from my arms. She saw the suitcase in my hand and rolled her eyes. "If you wanted to truly run away, you should have the common sense to wait until everyone is asleep to do it. Now Dad's gonna have to stop you. Dramatic much?"
She stomped off with the baby, leaving me standing there, feeling foolish.
She was right. I was being dramatic. Carson had every right to be pissed at me. I took a deep breath, turned around, and dragged my bag back to the bedroom.
I changed into jeans and a simple t-shirt. If I was staying, I couldn't hide. So, I went downstairs to help.
Chaos. That was the only word for it.
Carson was at the stove, trying to stir a pot of spaghetti sauce. Joni was trying to wrestle a wriggling Reya into her highchair. And Lorraine was at the kitchen table, carefully writing in her notebook.
"B-I-T-C-H," she chanted softly to herself as she wrote.
Great! The child was like a sound board that was purposely placed on earth to echo my mistake by God Almighty.
"Lorraine, stop it!" Joni yelled, looking from the notebook to me. "She learnt that from you, you know. Good job calling someone a bad word in the presence of the most annoying seven year old in the world with a touch of OCD and dummy-fication" She smacked her sister on the back of the head and grabbed an eraser.
"Girls, behave!" Carson yelled from the stove, turning around. Distracted, his elbow knocked the spoon, and a huge splatter of red sauce splashed across his white t-shirt.
"Damn it," he growled. In one fluid motion, he grabbed the hem of the shirt and pulled it over his head, throwing the stained fabric on the floor.
My mouth went dry.
He was… all of him. Tanned skin stretched over a solid wall of muscle and a faint trail of dark hair that disappeared into his jeans. It was the most distracting thing I had ever seen.
Great! I was being a sleazy fourteen year old boy who just discovered the joys of lust! Get a grip you horny psycho!
I whipped my head around, my face on fire.
"Emilia!" he called out, his voice tense. "Can you take over for a second while I get a new shirt?"
Do you have to? I would rather you remain like that, Carson Gibbs!
I scurried to the stove like a robot. "I don't know what to do," I admitted, staring at the bubbling pot like it was a science experiment. It was better and less humiliating than actively salivating over his...self.
I draw a line at throwing myself at...Gosh! I wonder how down there looks like. Is it very...
"Did I get stains on my pants too?" He asked me following my gaze.
"Yes" I whispered with a little smile before reality came in "I mean, no. You are fine. Please don't mind me" I looked away and focused my gaze on the salt shakers.
"Take over, would ya?" He told me, perfectly oblivious of my predicament.
"I don't know to—"
"Just stir, dummy. It's not rocket science," Joni snipped from the table.
"Joni go to your room. Now!" Carson's voice left no room for argument. She stomped off, muttering.
He turned to me. "Just watch the food and the baby for one minute. I'll be right back."
I moved toward Reya, but the second I got close, she reached her little arms out, whining, "Dada! Up!"
Carson sighed clearly frustrated, he swooped her up, and headed for the stairs.
"Lorraine," he called over his shoulder, "if you spell that word one more time, you're on a time-out for a week!"
And then it was quiet. Just me, a pot of sauce, and a crushing feeling of being an outsider.
I moved to the stove, staring into the simmering red sauce, using it as an excuse to hide my flushed face.
What in the fucks name just happened?!.