“I wanted to do this for my fiancée, on her first night at home,” he said with a smile.
“Thank you,” I replied, my smile intact.
We sat down, and over dinner, Emerson told me stories about my dad and their friendship. It felt good to share those moments, to remember my dada in his happy moments again. We laughed, we ate, and for a while, I forgot all the chaos that surrounded us.
When we finished eating, I stood up and started collecting the plates, but Emerson stopped me, gently placing his hand on mine.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Clearing the table,” I said, looking at him like it was obvious.
“Yes, but I already told you, tonight I’m treating you. Just let me handle it.”
I smiled at his insistence, “I haven’t done anything useful in a few days. Just let me clear the plates,
