her cheeks.
As much as it looked sweet, it also seemed sad to him for some reason.
He wished he knew more about this woman, but his mind was blank. She seemed so interesting, like she was someone he might relate to and whose company he might find enjoyment in. Unfortunately, he was always running from one thing to another, and constantly stuck inside his own head when he wasn’t, and there hadn’t been much time for him to really sit down with Emma.
Maybe he would try to fix that.
Emma’s head lifted again, her stare flicking to his as she smiled.
“You sound wonderful, Emmy,” he told her.
She turned into a statue at his words.
Calisto tipped his head to the side, confused. “I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong?”
Emma’s red lips parted like she was going to say something, but she quickly closed her mouth and shook her head. “No, of course not, Calisto.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
“You called me Emmy.”
He had.
Calisto racked his brain, searching for a reason why he had done that, and coming up with nothing. No one called her Emmy. Not Affonso, not his men, or the few people she talked to. He hadn’t once heard anyone use that nickname for Emma in the few times he had been in her presence that he remembered.
“Who calls you Emmy?” Calisto asked.
Emma’s face remained passive—blank, even. But he saw it, the brief flash of pain and sadness in her gaze, and the tremor that rocked her bottom lip before she bit hard into it.
“No one,” she said quietly.
Calisto didn’t believe that, or he wouldn’t have used it. “Someone must.”
Emma waved it off, saying, “No one here, Cal.”
“But I do?”
Subtly, she nodded. “Yeah, you do.”
Calisto
For a long while, Calisto simply stared at Emma without saying anything after her quiet confession. He wasn’t quite sure what to say. Before long, she had Midnight in her arms and was making her move to leave the library.
Calisto couldn’t let her do that, not after what she said.
“Wait,” he said, reaching out to grab her arm.
His fingers encircled her wrist, stopping her entirely. She froze on the spot, and it was impossible to ignore the heat that seemed to siphon straight from her skin into his palms, never mind the shiver that raced over her arm.
Calisto watched Emma as her gaze flicked between his hand on her wrist, and back up to his face.
“Just … wait a second,” he said quieter.
Emma swallowed hard, gaze darting to the open doorway. “Can you make it fast? I’m supposed to be resting. Doctor’s orders and all.”
Yes, Calisto was aware of that.
He just didn’t know the extent of the problems with her pregnancy, or why she had them at all. None of that had been explained very well to him except for the fact that Affonso made it clear the issues were personal business, and not for public consumption. Calisto had enough respect for both his uncle, and Emma as a woman, not to ask for more details.
But he was curious.
“I’ll make it fast,” he said.
Emma smiled a little. “Okay. Ask whatever is on your mind.”
“I called you Emmy.”
“I already said that, Calisto.”
“But no one else around here does,” he pressed.
She shook her head. “Affonso doesn’t like it.”
“Yet I call you it.”
“You used to,” she corrected gently.
Calisto took that in slowly. “Before my accident.”
“Yeah.”
“So … we were friends,” he said, catching her eyes with his own. “Or, friendly enough that I called you by a nickname your husband doesn’t approve of.”
Emma’s lips pressed together, like she was trying to hold back words. He saw the slight clench of her jaw, and how her hand balled into a fist around Midnight’s unmoving form. “I suppose you could say that.”
Calisto glanced down at her dog. He’d given her that puppy, too. None of this seemed right to him the longer he thought about it. It would never be acceptable for a made man to treat another made man’s wife
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