Kiss Me Captain (Emily and Maddie) novel Chapter 63

[Emily’s POV]

Saturday morning is here, and I’m definitely not ready. I’ve slept approximately fourteen minutes, my brain spending those hours rehearsing seven thousand different ways to tell my mother I’m in love with my female co-captain. Exactly zero of them sounded convincing.

Maddie’s already awake, sitting there fully dressed like she’s been waiting for hours. “How are you feeling?” she asks carefully.

“Like I’m about to voluntarily jump off a cliff while my mother watches and judges my form.” I stumble toward the closet. “The usual Saturday morning vibe.”

Maddie stands, moving closer. “Do you want me here when she arrives? I can stay in the room if you want privacy but also moral support from a distance? Or I can disappear completely.”

Tomorrow she has to do this exact same thing with parents who definitely won’t take it as well. “I need to do this alone,” I say. “But you can stay here if you want. Give us privacy to talk, but you’d be nearby if I need you after.”

Maddie shakes her head. “No. I’m going to the library. Complete privacy. You need space for this without thinking about me sitting here spiraling about my own parental disaster scheduled for tomorrow.” She steps forward, pulling me into a hug. “You’ve got this, Em. You’re braver than you think.”

She leaves, and suddenly I’m alone with my racing thoughts and thirty-seven minutes of panic time.

When the knock comes at exactly 10 AM, my heart attempts an elaborate escape through my ribcage. Mom pulls me into a hug, then studies my face with that maternal x-ray vision. “Are you okay? You look exhausted.”

“I haven’t been sleeping well,” I admit. “It’s been a rough week.”

She settles on Maddie’s bed, eyes scanning the room. “Where’s Maddie? I was hoping to meet your co-captain properly.”

“She’s at the library. Giving us space to talk. I asked her to, so we could have privacy.” My throat tightens.

Mom’s expression shifts into something knowing. “So this conversation is about Maddie.” It’s not a question.

I nod, unable to form words. How the hell is she so good at reading me? I’m her daughter, of course, but I thought I was a little better in hiding my thoughts. “Okay,” she says softly. “I’m listening.”

I’ve rehearsed this moment a dozen times, but now all those words evaporate. Finally, I just say it: “I’m in love with Maddie. We’re together. We have been for months.”

The silence feels like it lasts seven years. My stomach turns anxiously—as much as I didn’t want to think what her reaction would be, this silence makes me a whole new degree of terrified. Then she says: “I know.”

My heart drops to the pit of my stomach, my head snaps up. She just said what? “What? You—what?”

“I know.” She’s smiling slightly. “I’ve known since the hospital, Emily. Maybe even before that. The way you looked at her, the way you fought to get to her. That wasn’t just friendship. That was love.”

“You knew? This entire time, and you didn’t say anything?” I’m staring at her like she’s just announced she’s secretly been a Russian spy.

“Because I was waiting for you to tell me when you were ready,” she explains gently. “I didn’t want to push. Sometimes the kindest thing a parent can do is wait, even when the waiting is hard.”

My eyes fill with tears. “I was so scared to tell you. I thought you’d be disappointed. That I’d thrown away all those years of you trying to set me up with nice boys?”

She moves to sit beside me, taking my hand. “Did you think I wouldn’t love you? Because I spent all those years trying to get you to date nice boys?” I nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat.

My mother laughs softly. “Sweetheart, I wasn’t against girlfriends. You just never showed interest in anyone, period. Boy or girl. I was worried the rink was your whole life and nothing else.”

My mother’s face shows concern. “Whatever happens, you tell Maddie she has my support. Both of you do. She’s got a place at our dinner table anytime she needs one, whether her own family comes around or not.”

She stays for a few more hours, taking me to lunch and keeping the conversation deliberately light and normal.

Before she leaves to drive home, she hugs me tight and whispers: “I’m proud of you. For being honest. For being brave enough to love someone the way you love her. That takes more courage than any triple axel you’ll ever land.”

After she drives away, I stand in the parking lot just breathing, feeling lighter than I have in months. Then I pull out my phone and text Maddie: “You can come back. It went well.”

Her response comes immediately: “I’m on my way.”

When she arrives, I tell her everything—the knowing before I told her, the acceptance, the relief. I tell her about my mother’s joke about the nice boys, and Maddie laughs through tears.

“I’m so happy for you,” she says, pulling me close. “You deserve that acceptance. You deserve all of it, Em.”

The words hang between us, weighted with tomorrow. With what she’s about to face with her own parents, with the conversation that won’t go nearly as well as mine did. I pull back to look at her face, to see the fear she’s trying to hide behind that smile.

“Are you ready for tomorrow?” I ask, though I already know the answer.

Maddie’s face goes serious, all traces of that relieved laughter disappearing. Her jaw sets in that stubborn way it does when she’s made a decision she knows is going to hurt. “No. But I’m doing it anyway.”