Suddenly she felt a hand on her naked knee. Emilia was sitting so close to her new buddy, their legs had brushed against one another. But this was new.He wasn't stroking up her legs or anything, but the mere presence of his hand had taken Emilia by surprise. She turned her head to face him and smile. Making sure he knew, she didn't mind. When she brushed the back of her hand across his tattoo, the three started to laugh again. "Why do they keep laughing?" The teen thought as she pulled her hand back. "And why aren't they coming?" She wondered, looking back at her friends again. A feeling of unease took over. Alone. Surrounded by boys she didn't know. All of them at least five years older than her. Speaking a language she couldn't understand. Without her friends around to fall back to..."At least they have good looks." She thought. Convincing herself to stay.---She lay as still as she possibly could. Every time he made a move, it caved in the mattress. Even with her eyes closed, she. I chatted with her and liked what I heard and saw.I started going to Sunday services and got to know her better. I guess you could say I fell in love, but it was more like she was a comfortable fit. We laughed at the same things, we liked going to the same restaurants, we wanted to see the same movies, we hated the same TV shows.After almost nine months of wooing, I proposed and she accepted. She was a widow with a sixteen-year-old son, and even with her husband’s insurance, life had been touch and go for her. She’d been single for almost six years, and had buried him in her memory and moved on.We got married and I moved out of my apartment and into the house they’d shared. Asher showed no resentment in his mother taking a new husband, but he didn’t accept me as his new dad. He wasn’t hostile but didn’t call me Dad. He continued to call me Mr. Mathews.So here I was, thirty-seven and with a new wife and a teen-aged son.He was a nice-looking, scrawny teenager and no trouble to his mom..
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