Emma

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟐

James loved watching Emma read.

When she was doing research, this little crease would form between her eyebrows as she focused. She'd scowled, eyes running over the lore, chewing on her lip and sighing every now and then. When she read a menu, or something else mundane, her fingers would twitch, drumming against the table.

Sometimes she'd leaned over his shoulder to read something on the computer or in a book, arms around him, hands moving absently across his chest or in his hair.

He couldn't see her face then, but he could feel her, and whenever something was interesting, she'd freeze as her brain worked through it.

All that was cute, but it was nowhere near as interesting as when she was reading for fun. James initially had made fun of Emma for reading all those fantasy novels, wondering why she wanted to read about stuff like that when they dealt with it for a living.

But soon he'd come to understand that it was how they escaped, how she dealt with the sucky reality of being a bookworm. It was just like how he worked on a baby to ease his mind, to forget the evil and the blood.

Emma was currently curled up on the couch in the library, engrossed in some novel she'd downloaded onto her old beat up kindle. He and Stephanie had gotten it for her birthday a couple last November, using hard-earned hustling money to pay for it.

Her first question had been "did you steal this?" and James had proudly been able to say no. It was truly hers, something brand new that had been acquired through entirely legal means.

They knew she preferred real paper books, but the electronic device was more portable and altogether more convenient.

Despite its presence, James still pilfered library books for Emma every chance he got, filling the bookcase in her room and eventually spilling out to one in the library.

Her instincts will be damned, she still hadn't noticed James' arrival, and he smiled as he watched her. Emma was so engrossed in that other world, lost in another time with other people. Just then she pursed those perfect lips and rolled her eyes, clearly amused with whatever she'd just read.

James set down the mug of tea he'd made on the side table by her elbow, leaning in to plant a kiss on the side of her head. Emma's eyes darted from him to the tea and back to the book in mere seconds and she grunted a thank you. James just chuckled, not offended in the least by her inattention.

He was glad she could escape so thoroughly, bury herself so deeply in another world, another reality. As long as she came back to him, he was fine with it.

Sometimes it took her longer to snap out of it, eyes glazed over and mind distant.

But she'd return to reality, sometimes crawling into his lap sniffling and sad, needing comfort, other times attacking him with ravenous kisses.

Once she'd snapped at him, furious about something that had happened in a book.

James had frozen, stunned at the flash of anger that he didn't deserve and raising a questioning eyebrow at her.

The look of horror on Emma's face when she realized what she'd done had made him chuckle, and she's shaking her head as if to clear it of someone else's thoughts before throwing her arms around him and apologizing profusely.

The whole thing had ended in the bedroom, so James wasn't all too upset about it. In fact, reading tended to make her pretty amorous, depending on what she was reading.

He may or may not have located a copy of Bridget Jones's Diary and left it on her bed one night. Emma laughed when she found it, stomping down the hall to James' room and throwing it at him.

"Hey, what about spaghetti for dinner?" James asked a little while later, stepping back into the library. She hummed in reply, but James was almost positive that she hadn't heard a word he said.

At least she'd registered that he'd spoken, and her tea was nearly gone, so she was moderately aware of her surroundings today.

"Sweetheart, come on, you gotta eat," James pushed. He only stepped in like this when it was necessary, and Emma's been reading for almost six hours non-stop.

She once thanked him for interrupting, admitting that sometimes she needed an intervention.

"Hmm?" Emma asked, finally tearing her gaze away from the words to squint up at him.

"Good morning sunshine," James teased, grinning down at her and making her smile as she rubbed her eyes.

"What time is it?" she asked, setting the kindle down on the table before rolling her shoulders and stretching.

"It's almost seven," James replied, offering her a hand. Emma took it, allowing him to pull her to her feet. She wrapped her arms around his neck, standing on her toes to reach. James buried his face in the crook of her neck, savoring the feeling of having her pressed against him, holding her close.

Emma giggled as her back made a small popping noise and pulled away.

"So, dinner?" she asked, starting towards the kitchen.

"Yes please."

"Please?" Emma echoed, feigning surprise, "somebody must be hungry..."

"So how's the book?" He asked, changing the subject. She made a scoffing noise before replying.

"Crazy, absolutely crazy. Talk about plot twists, geez. Remember how I told you that the main character..." James kept listening, but he was focused on Emma's expression as she pulled out ingredients and started on dinner, chatting away about the book. She was so passionate about them, so involved and intense.

James loved that about her, loved her wild imagination, the endless depths of her daydreams and her passion for stories. Emma inspired James' own dreams for the future, giving him hope and light even on the worst days.

He suspected that all those happy endings had installed some kind of permanent positive outlook on life inside of Emma, and it was his own personal mission to never let that be taken from her.