Chapter 6 Uninvited Guest
1518 Words
Emma
The key stuck in my front door lock - it always did in cold weather. As I jiggled it, snowflakes melted on my neck and trickled down my spine. My mind was still replaying that last moment with Dominic, the way his eyes had held mine in the snowy darkness.
When I finally pushed the door open, warm light spilled into the hallway. Mom sat in her favorite armchair, reading glasses perched on her nose, surrounded by student art portfolios. Even at midnight on Christmas Eve, she was still grading her community center students' work.
"Emma?" She looked up, then frowned. "Sweetheart, you're soaked! What happened to your coat?"
"Snow angels with five-year-olds," I said, shrugging off my wet coat. "Not exactly weatherproof activities."
Mom's eyes fixed on my left hand as I hung up my coat. The empty ring finger felt naked under her gaze.
"Emma..." Her voice wavered. "Where's your ring?"
I'd rehearsed this conversation a dozen times on the walk up to our apartment. Had planned to break it gently, to ease into the explanation. Instead, I burst into tears.
"Oh, baby." Mom was up in an instant, portfolios scattering across the floor. She pulled me into her arms, and suddenly I was sixteen again, crying into her shoulder after Dad left. She still smelled like art supplies and that fancy perfume she rationed drop by precious drop - one of the last bottles from our old life.
"Harrison..." I hiccuped against her shoulder. "He found out about... about what I did five years ago."
Mom stiffened. "The surrogacy?"
I nodded, unable to look at her. "Camille went through your attic. Found the paperwork."
"That girl." Mom's voice turned sharp. "After everything her father did to us, she still—"
"Harrison said..." My voice cracked. "He said I had to choose. Cut all ties with you, move to London, or the wedding was off."
Mom pulled back, her hands gentle on my shoulders. "And you chose me? Oh, Emma, you shouldn't have—"
"Stop." I gripped her hands. "Don't you dare say I shouldn't have chosen you. You're my mother. You've never once made me feel ashamed of my choices. Even when society turned their backs on us, even when I told you about the surrogacy—"
"The surrogacy that paid for my medical bills." Mom's eyes filled with tears. "Bills I should have been able to handle if your father hadn't—"
"None of that was your fault." I led her to the couch, kicking off my wet shoes. "And Harrison... God, Mom, the way he talked about it. Like I'd done something dirty. Like helping create a life was something shameful."
"He always was more concerned with appearances than reality." Mom's voice was bitter. "Just like your father."
We sat in silence for a moment, Christmas lights from the neighbor's window casting colored shadows across our worn carpet. Mom's hand found mine, squeezing gently.
"The design competition," she said finally. "You'll lose your chance..."
I took a deep breath. "Actually... I may have found a solution."
Her eyebrows rose. "Emma Bennett, what did you do?"
"I... sort of got engaged again? To someone else?"
"WHAT?"
I pulled Lottie's sparkly contract from my pocket. "It's a marriage of convenience. Just for a year, just for the competition. He's a really good guy, Mom. A single dad with twins."
"Twins?" Mom's voice caught. "How... how old are they?"
"Five." I deliberately smoothed the wrinkled paper, avoiding her eyes. "They're wonderful children. Smart and funny and—"
"Emma." Mom's hand covered mine. "Five years old. The same time as..."
"Don't." I stood up abruptly. "Please, Mom. It's just a coincidence."
She let out a long breath. "What's his name?"
"Dominic Sterling." I was watching her face, so I saw the exact moment the color drained from it. "Mom? What's wrong?"
"Sterling?" Her hands trembled as she took the contract. "As in Sterling Industries?"
"No, he's just a driver. Same last name, that's all." But Mom was already shaking her head.
"Emma, listen to me. Sterling Industries... they're the ones who destroyed your grandfather's company. The hostile takeover, the mysterious debts that appeared overnight..." Her voice hardened. "The car accident that killed him."
"What?" The room spun slightly. "But I thought Grandpa's crash was an accident."
"We could never prove otherwise." Mom's hands clenched in her lap. "But the timing... right when he was about to expose their illegal trading practices..."
I sank back onto the couch. "But Dominic's not part of that. He's just a normal guy trying to raise his kids."
Mom touched my cheek gently. "Oh, sweetheart. You really care about them already, don't you?"
"They're special," I whispered. "The way Noah counts marshmallows. How Lottie tells stories. And Dominic..." I thought of his gentle smile, the way he listened like every word mattered. "He's nothing like Harrison."
"Just..." Mom hesitated. "Be careful with your heart, Emma. I don't want you ending up like me – loving someone who isn't what they seem."
I held her hand reassuringly. "It's just business, Mom. One year, then we go our separate ways."
She seemed to want to say more, but in the end just stroked my hair. "Whatever happens, I only want you to be happy, Emma."
I hugged her tightly. "I will be, Mom."
**
The next morning, my phone buzzed as I was opening the coffee shop:
"The twins won't stop talking about visiting you. Is it okay if they come by? -D"
I smiled, typing back: "Of course. But don't you have work?"
"Unfortunately yes. Emergency meeting. But they're very persuasive when they want something."
"Let me guess - Lottie made a PowerPoint presentation?"
"Worse. Noah made a pros and cons list. With citations."
I laughed out loud, imagining serious little Noah with his careful handwriting. "They can definitely come. I'll keep them entertained."
"You're sure? It's Christmas Eve..."
"Positive. Though fair warning - they might get drafted into cookie decorating duty."
"As long as they don't eat ALL the sprinkles this time... Still sorry about last Saturday."
The easy banter made me smile. How strange that texting with my fake fiancé felt more natural than any conversation I'd ever had with Harrison.
The twins arrived an hour later with James, Dominic's colleague - though something about his pristine suit seemed oddly formal for a driver's coworker.
"Miss Emma!" Lottie launched herself at me, surprisingly strong for someone so tiny. "Daddy said we could help you work!"
"Did he now?" I hugged her back, breathing in the scent of strawberry shampoo and winter air. "And what kind of help were you thinking of?"
"Quality control," Noah said seriously, already eyeing the display case. "For the cookies."
"Naturally." I tried to keep a straight face. "Very important job."
"But Uncle James," Lottie tugged at his sleeve, "I thought you said you were Daddy's head of—"
"Head of... driving!" James interrupted quickly. "Yes, that's me. Head driver. Look, is that peppermint hot chocolate?"
After James made his suspiciously hasty exit, I set the twins up in a quiet corner with hot chocolate and Christmas cookies. Lottie immediately began arranging the sprinkles into patterns while Noah carefully divided his cookie into precise segments.
"Miss Emma?" Noah asked softly. "Is it okay if we start calling you Mommy now?"
My heart squeezed. "We should probably wait until after the wedding, sweetheart."
"When's that?" Lottie looked up from her sprinkle art.
"After Christmas. Once the courthouse opens."
"Will you wear a pretty dress?" Lottie's eyes sparkled. "Daddy says you design dresses!"
"Maybe something simple," I said, thinking of Harrison's elaborate plans with a shudder.
"Blue!" Lottie declared. "Like Daddy's eyes!"
I felt my cheeks warm. "We'll see."
My phone buzzed again: "How are they behaving?"
I snapped a picture of the twins, faces dusted with sugar and completely absorbed in their cookie decorating, and sent it to Dominic.
His response came quickly: "I see sprinkles everywhere. Should I be worried?"
"Probably. Your daughter is creating abstract art with frosting."
"And Noah?"
"Computing the optimal marshmallow-to-hot-chocolate ratio. With graphs."
"Definitely my son. ... Thank you, Emma. For everything."
Something warm bloomed in my chest. "They make it easy."
When the last customer left, I hung up the "Closed for Christmas Eve" sign and turned to find both twins had fallen asleep at their table. Lottie's head rested on her folded arms, a half-decorated cookie still clutched in one hand. Noah had arranged his remaining sprinkles into a perfect star pattern before dozing off.
I was tucking my coat around their shoulders when the bell chimed one last time.
"Sorry, we're closed," I called softly, not wanting to wake the twins.
"That's fine." A familiar voice dripped with disdain. "I'm not here for your mediocre coffee anyway."
I turned slowly, my hands clenching around the cleaning rag. Camille stood in the doorway, perfect in her designer coat and cruel smile.
"Hello, sister dear," Camille said, her smile sharp as broken glass. "Just wanted to see how the jilted bride is holding up."
- Writer
