Emma isn’t just surprised to see me parked in the pick-up lane of her fancy private school, she acts like I’m a soldier who has been away at war. Her face lights up with hope when she sees the shiny red Maserati. When her gaze moves to where I’m leaning against the hood, she starts running down the hill, long hair flying out behind her like a banner.
I’d sent her driver and nanny away, letting them know I’d get my sister home myself. Emma isn’t the only one who has an employee, not a parent, picking her up from school but the idea of it still bothers me. My Maserati stands like a blood stain on white silk among the orderly rows of town cars and sedans.
“Are we going for milkshakes?” she asks as a greeting, coming to a stop just before running right into the side of the car.
“Or tacos?” I ask because I know it’s her favorite.
“We had tacos in the lunchroom today.” She pauses, thinking about it for a second. “But that doesn’t matter.”
“We can do whatever you want.” I open the passenger door and raise the seat so she can climb in the back. “I’ll even try to find a place that has milkshakes and tacos.”
“That’s gross.” She hesitates with her hands on the frame. “Do I have to sit in the back?”
“It’s the safest part of the car, so yes.”
“Nanny Oona lets me sit in the front when she picks me up from school.”
“Are you trying to get Nanny Oona fired? Because this is how you do it.”
With a dramatic sigh, Emma flops into the back and slings her scruffy pink backpack onto the seat beside her. The bag looks like it’s spent the last ten years buried underground. Like all her supplies, I know it was purchased this school year, so it’s shabby appearance is deliberate. Emma probably dragged it through the dirt to hide the offensive color.
If Giselle isn’t careful, her daughter is going to grow up dressing all in black with Goth makeup just out of spite.
“You can’t protect me from everything, you know,” she whines as I settle into the driver’s seat.
“We’re gonna agree to disagree on that, kid. I’m watching your every move until you’re thirty.”
She raises a blonde eyebrow. “And what happens then?”
“That’s when you’re allowed to date. And the upstanding young fellow I choose can pick up where I’ve left off.”
“You are so stupid, even for a dude.”
“I love you, too, bubblegum. Now, buckle up.” I gun the engine and swing out of the pick-up line, waving to the stay-at-home moms who glare at me as we drive by. “Where are we going?”
“Sweethaus for milkshakes, and then you’re taking me to Ricardo’s for the all-you-can-eat taco bar.”
“You got it.” I don’t even care that she’s trying to be difficult because she thinks I treat her like a baby. And I definitely do, because I’m going to protect her from the entire world while I still can. “Are we doing double chocolate or Rocky Road with extra marshmallows?”
Emma crosses her arms over her chest, expression smug. “Both.”
“Done.”
The drive-through at Sweethaus is full of the after school crowd, and I spend the time listening to Emma describe all the drama going on within her friend group. She has already forgiven me for being heavy-handed, but I know more moments like that are coming. Her thirteenth birthday is only months away, and it’s already obvious she will grow up to be a heartbreaker. As much as I want to lock her away so she never meets a guy anything like me, I’m reasonable enough to know that the countdown on her childhood is running out.
But for now, she is still a girl who gets excited about having milkshakes with her big brother, and I’m going to take advantage of that for as long as possible.
“I can’t be friends with Lily anymore, because she has gone totally boy crazy,” Emma tells me as I hand her one of the milkshakes. “All she wants to talk about is kissing. It is so gross.”
Thank fuck for that.
Over tacos, I finally broach the topic that compelled me to butter her up with her favorite foods. “There’s something I need to talk to you about.”
Emma takes a huge bite of her taco and replies with her mouth full. “Did you get somebody pregnant?”
“Jesus.”
“It wasn’t that Sophia girl, was it? You being with her seems a little sad, I don’t know why.”
I put down my own taco before I crush it in my fingers. “No one is pregnant. And this has nothing to do with Sophia.”
“I heard dad saying something about babies the other day and I know Mom isn’t pregnant, because she refuses to ever go through that again.” She shakes her milkshake and then slurps up a large mouthful. “What is it, then? Must be something big if we did Sweethaus and Ricardo’s in one day.”
This girl is too smart for her own damn good. Or mine. “Some things are happening, and I want you to hear about it from me first.”
Emma just stares at me, expressive blue eyes that are big as a porcelain doll’s give absolutely nothing away. She learned her poker face from me, so there is no way to know how she might react. “And?”
“And I have to get married.”
She blinks. “To Sophia?”
“God, of course not. To a girl I don’t think you’ve ever met. Her name is Zaya.”
“Why?”
“It’s complicated legal stuff, but we’ll lose a bunch of money if I don’t. When Dad married my mom, there were a bunch of rules that her father insisted on making. Me getting married is one of them.”
Lifting the cover off her cup, Emma stirs what’s left of her milkshake before looking back up at me. “Are you mad about it.”
“I was, but I’m getting used to the idea.” The world has tilted on its axis, and now up is down, right is wrong, and Zaya Milbourne is the
