“Hold up. Simon bought you Thai, but I’m stuck cooking dinner?”

“Because you lost to him at poker last night,” Dale yelled from within. “You promised to cook dinner tonight if you lost, which you did. Badly. In case you’re wondering, it’s because you always let your emotions get the best of you.”

Alison looked Emma straight in the eyes. “I’ll take one percent off your future monthly lease if you tell me you’re here to share the Thai.”

“Uh . . .”

“Great.” Alison dragged her in and Emma found herself standing in the middle of a living room much the same as hers, except more lived in.

“Good news, Uncle Dale,” Alison called out. “You don’t have to suffer my cooking after all. We got delivery.”

Dale came out of the kitchen. He was wearing a white T-shirt under a brightly colored Hawaiian shirt, paisley boxers, and black socks.

No pants.

Alison waved in his general direction. “Uncle Dale, Emma. Emma, Uncle Dale—who’s fundamentally opposed to eating dinner with pants on.” Then she took the bag of food from Emma.

“Pants hinder my eating prowess,” Uncle Dale said. He patted Hog on the top of his big head and sat at the dining room table, expectantly eyeing the food. “You’re the new girl.”

Emma moved closer. “Yes. I’m renting upstairs.”

He nodded. “You’re also dating my son.”

“No.” Kissing him, yes. Dating, no. “He’s my physical therapist.”

He just smiled.

Emma knew he’d had two strokes. And she could see it in the right side of his face, which didn’t quite line up with the left side. His speech was a little halted, but she could still understand him.

“Let’s see what we’ve got,” Dale said, pointing to the bag.

Alison pulled everything out and sighed dramatically. “He really should’ve gotten us some too.”

“Nah,” Dale said. “You’d have modified everything, making it a pain in the ass to order.” He looked at Emma. “Simon hates to order for her.”

“Hey,” Alison said. “I have some allergies.”

“Yeah. Allergies to going with the flow.”

Alison slid him a look. “Okay, first, why in the hell do your doctors keep telling us that your mind is frail? You’re the least frail person I know.”

He beamed. “Thank you.”

“Not a compliment.”

“Thought you were working on being nice to get Ryan back before he starts going out with his nice neighbor.”

“Okay, first of all, he’s not dating his neighbor.” Alison said this in a tone that suggested she wasn’t actually sure if it was true, but that she hoped it was. “And second of all, I am working on being nice.”

Dale chuckled.

Emma tried really hard not to laugh as well, especially when Alison leveled her with a dark look. Emma bit her tongue and opened the container. “Glasses?”

“Do you mean plates?” Alison asked.

Shit. She flushed. “Yes. Plates.”

Dale was looking at her thoughtfully, a new light in his eyes. Understanding. “You know what I hate more than saying the wrong word?” he asked. “People assuming that because I can’t always find the words that I’m dumb. So they talk to me real slow and loud, like I’m deaf and need to ride on the short bus.”

“Oh my God.” Alison shook her head at him. “We’ve talked about the kinds of things you can’t say anymore. Short bus being one of them.”

“Bah. People are too sensitive.” He looked at Emma. “I also walk like a zombie sometimes. I suppose I’m not allowed to say that either.”

“My left arm refuses to obey my brain,” Emma said. “Especially when I don’t do my exercises that your son gave me to do.”

Dale laughed. “I hate that. You know why? Because it makes him right. Which I hate even more than exercises.”

Emma leaned in. “I secretly call him Hard-Ass PT.”

Dale gave a hoot and slapped his knee. “I like you.” He dug into his food, spilling half off the fork before it got to his mouth. “My son must like you too. He doesn’t usually bring anyone home. He says I scare them off.”

“He didn’t bring her home,” Alison pointed out. “She just showed up. And as for scaring people off, he has asked you a million times to wear pants.”

Dale waved this off as inconsequential.

Emma found herself smiling, feeling more alive than she had in a long time. Well, except when she’d been kissing Dale’s son. That had made her pretty damn alive. The only thing that would’ve made this evening better was if Alison was gone and Simon was home.

At the moment, her nemesis was helping Dale get more food, making sure he had everything he needed. Which, if Emma was being honest, was actually kind of sweet.

Dale must have thought so too because he patted his niece’s hand and smiled at her. “You’re a good girl. When I get back to work, I’m going to give you a big fat raise.”

Alison smiled. “You already pay me too much. Keep your money and just get better so you can come back already.”

“Why?” Dale asked. “You got your eye on another job or something?”

“More like following advice from a certain uncle about improving my personal life, and maybe I need some time freed up for it.” Then she leaned in and kissed his cheek.

Emma was fascinated. She’d had no idea that Alison was even human, much less . . . gentle and loving.

“You should let Ryan see this side of you,” Dale said.

“Yeah, well, it’s not that easy,” Alison muttered.

Dale raised a brow. “Why not?”

Her eyes narrowed. “How about this. I’ll show Ryan that side of me when you show Simon that same side of you.”

Dale rolled his eyes. “Rubbish.”

“That’s what I thought.” Alison caught Emma’s curiosity. “You remember how I was in high school?”

“Was?”

“Whatever,” Alison said when Dale snickered. “Let’s just say I came by it honestly. Uncle Dale here taught me everything I need to know about pushing away those who love you the most.”

“Hey,” he said.