Not to be one to be bothered by her own discomfort, Emily had done the doting wife act, the loveable stepmother thing, and now she was exhausted. When she saw Emerson approach her, a small flash of relief crossed her face. "This wouldn't have been my first choice of afternoon entertainment," she murmured in the brunette's ear. She held up her glass, gesturing that it was empty. "I need a refill." She had no idea if Emerson would follow, and she absolutely ignored the fact that she sort of wanted her to.
She headed in the direction of the kitchen. As she stepped inside, she noticed that the room was empty. Pouring herself a fresh glass, she allowed herself a few seconds grace to lean against the kitchen countertops and collect her thoughts. She had been doing a spectacular job at forgiving her husband, but something about being at his son's birthday party was a harsh reminder of the betrayal. She was allowed a second to cope with that, wasn't she?