Emma woke up the next morning with a sore, stiff back, and battered brain. There was so much for her to do. She still had to move her stuff from the dorm, let the school know she was leaving the dorms, go to class, and be back home in time to make sure her father wasn’t left alone. As she prepared his breakfast, her mind raced with the thoughts of last night. William Stewart was always on her mind somehow. He occupied her thoughts in a way she couldn’t stand, but brought her a strange sense of joy. She really didn’t like that.
“Oh great, I’m starving!” Anna called as she walked into the kitchen. “Please make sure it’s not too greasy. I’m watching my figure.” Emma rolled her eyes.
“This is not for you,” she said over the sizzle of the stove. “It’s for my dad.”
“What am I supposed to do?
