Red Light, Green Light
Chapter Nine: Everybody's A Critic

Izzy and Jonathan were kind of disgusting.

To their credit, they managed it with a certain adorable finesse that Emma could tolerate now. Five years had desensitized the youngest Woodhouse to the giggles, neck rubs and Eskimo kisses.

Which is why she was surprised to hear her own name pop up in a sea of "sweethearts" and "baby cakes". Emma started up across the table at La Stalla, where her sister's eyebrows were raised in question. "You didn't hear me, did you?" Isabella tutted, "I asked how you are."

Emma ripped apart a chunk of bread. It wasn't every day that Iz visited up from DC, and she sure as hell wouldn't piss on anybody's parade now with her bitterness. She faked a sunny smile, "I'm great."

"I want to help you shop for dorm stuff. Oh my gosh, I saw the cutest spread in Bed Bath & Beyond—"

Her sweet sister rambled on vacantly. So much about Izzy reminded Emma of their mother. The bubbling energy, the sparkling blue eyes, the coifed blonde hair. It was difficult to ignore the pin prickle of jealousy.

"If that's the case, Emma has to help us with the baby room," Jonathan declared.

"Sounds like a fair trade," Isabella agreed. Emma watched as Jon smiled and rested a hand lightly on his wife's rounded belly. She laughed, incredulous. "I'm having a hard time remembering that you're pregnant. Is that bad?"

"Five months later? Little bit, Auntie." Izzy smirked.

Emma smiled sheepishly. Then her nose wrinkled, "Wow, I just realized I'm going to be Auntie Em."

"Don't worry. We won't name our baby Dorothy."

"When do you plan to start baby-proofing the house?" Tom spoke up at the head of the table. He had been moody and dejected all evening, but this was usually a side effect of being in Jon Knightley's presence. "You need outlet plugs," he insisted.

"The baby isn't due until November, Tom," Jonathan sighed.

Emma's eyes darted up. She always suspected that Jonathan thought her dad a bit of an idiot. And she liked Jon, she really did. But the disrespect of his own father-in-law always made resentment bubble up in her throat.

"You have to be prepared." Tom argued. "My family doctor recommended one of his associates, Dr. Mayfield. Top notch physician. It's a hike to Mt. Sinai from Washington DC, but I think a child's health is worth every mile."

"Thanks, Daddy." Izzy wrung her napkin. "But um, actually—"

"We already have a pediatrician," said Jonathan.

"Oh." Tom's face fell. "Well."

"Any names picked out yet?" Emma interrupted. Her hands folded delicately under her chin and she smiled. Tom stared back into his plate.

"It's a secret." Izzy's husband smiled. It reminded Emma a little too strongly of Jack, though similarities between the two were few and far between.

The truth was that Jonathan wasn't really anything like Jack, in personality or appearance. Even in high school, Jon had always been taller and broader. The wrestler of the family. Jack was slighter and quicker on his feet. The soccer player. Jonathan started fights. Jack ended them. Jon was aggressive and commanding; Jack was soft-spoken and patient.

Maybe that was why Tom Woodhouse had always favored the younger brother over the older.

Not that Emma anticipated Jack's patience now. He had probably gotten wind of the Ethan Perry debacle and would be harping on her conscience until dessert.

Jack showed up halfway through the entrees, greeted all, ordered a beer and kissed Izzy on the cheek from across the table. Emma decided not to comment on the fact that his hair was sticking up on end.

"No, there was just some disaster at the office," Jack later explained to Tom, hiking up his sleeves. "Somebody tripped the fire alarm and there was an entire rescue mission down in Doc Storage. And by the time I got out of there and through traffic," he waved his hand, "trust me, you don't want to hear this."

"We don't mind," Isabella smiled.

"No, it's not important. You guys are here for the first time since The Spanish Inquisition. Can we toast to that?"

"Hell yeah!"

"Seltzer for Izzy."

Izzy laughed.

It wasn't until she was halfway through her pasta (and Tom and Jonathan's heated global warming debate that was more like a competitive ping pong match about Al Gore's integrity) that Jack saw fit to nudge Emma gently.

"Hey," she acknowledged.

"Thanks for ignoring me all night," said Jack.

"Sorry," Emma muttered, "I'm just not looking forward to the gloating."

"…What?"

"You know."

"Know what?"

When she looked up in challenge, Jack's brow crinkled. Emma gaped, "Uh."

"Uh?" Jack repeated.

"Uh—never mind."

"Oh, come on."

"Forget it. It's not relevant anymore." Emma smiled, feeling a rush of relief. It nearly made her jittery, and she piped up with, "So, what are you gonna order?"

Jack opened his menu; his eyes lowered suspiciously. "I don't know. The gnocchi looks good."

"I know, right? It totally does."

When the dishes had been cleared and a tip was left, all five waited curbside for a cab. Jonathan draped his jacket over Izzy's shoulders and she thanked him with a smile, brushing a windswept curl behind her ear.

"Your sister's glowing," Jack told Emma with a smirk. "Don't you hate that?"

"So clichéd," laughed Emma.

Tom, however, was always trusted to fret. "Isabella looks pale."

"She's standing under the streetlight, Daddy."

"No, no. She looks washed out. Izzy!" Tom started, interrupting Jon and Izzy's intimate moment. "Honey, I have to ask if you're taking your prenatal—"

Emma winced. She turned on her heels, "I feel like Jonathan hates Dad."

"No," Jack shook his head. He thought for a long moment and looked back with a wince, "Hate is such a strong word."

"Nice."

"See, Jon's just…" he paused, "my brother is very easily annoyed. He's the bull in the china shop. Except," Jack steered Emma to face her sister, "when it comes to dear Isabella. Never thought I'd see the day when a girl would be able to melt him into a pile of goo. It's kind of disgusting sometimes."

"Yeah, seriously. You left me out in the boonies during appetizers, man," Emma scowled. "It was too much."

Jack laughed, "Sorry about that. Baby Cakes?"

"Sugar Lips."

"Cotton Candykins."

"Haven't heard that one."

"Wait for it, it'll come. Like a recurring nightmare, I swear." At Emma's giggles, Jack grinned and tilted his head. "You know, it's funny. For someone so eager to play matchmaker, you sure are intolerant of PDA."

Emma shrugged, threading her fingers through her long red ponytail. "That's because I like subtlety. Holding hands. Quick glances. Warm smiles. Cute, subdued stuff like that."

"So, basically everything you can read into and be wrong about."

Her gray eyes narrowed dangerously at his accusation. Jack was still all smiles. He kicked a bit of gravel with his sneaker and his grin widened a fraction of an inch. "Yes," Jack admitted. "Yes, of course I know about Ethan Perry. Word gets around."

Emma's mouth fell open. "Meaning Taylor Lau doesn't know how to shut up when her best friend confides in her."

"Pretty much. I do have her on speed dial." A moment later, Jack took offense: "I thought I was your best friend."

"Not anymore!"

"Nice to know how easily I'm replaced."

"You pretended," Emma accused. "You pretended to be ignorant at dinner."

"Yep."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I like messing with you. You get a little crinkle on her forehead right there—"

Emma swatted his hand away. Her cheeks flooded pink with embarrassment, even under the pale light of the lamp post. "Are you going to rub it in?" she asked bitterly.

"I might later. For funsies." Jack teased. "Come on," he took her hand as they walked to their cab. "Tell me what happened."

Half an hour later, they were huddled over her coffee table. Emma had changed into sweats and fuzzy socks, a mug of tea in her hands. Jack was crouched in front of her DVD collection, thumbing through the titles.

"—the hard part was trying to explain to Heather what happened," Emma muttered, setting her cup down. "I told her that Ethan had a medical emergency."

"Like what," Jack smiled over his shoulder, "explosive diarrhea?"

Emma snorted, "No, I said his grandmother was in the hospital. And she believed me, because she always believes me, but this time it made me feel like a bad person."

"You're not a bad person." Jack corrected. "But I like that you slapped him. A lot of people would envy you that."

"Tell me about it." Emma shuddered, "Ugh, what a creep! Why did I ever think he was such a good guy?"

Jack shrugged. "Because you wanted to. Plus, Ethan Perry is a very charming actor."

"But you warned me."

"I did."

"Sorry," she grudgingly admitted. "I'm a very stubborn girl."

"No shit."

"Can we be friends again?" Emma offered her hand.

Jack reached over the table and shook. "Were we ever not friends?"

Nobody said anything more for a good few moments, as Emma turned on the DVD player and Jack popped in Meet the Parents. He turned off the lights and sat in Tom's favorite armchair as the menu appeared on the screen. Emma saw fit to mention Ethan Perry's ultimate revenge, and how he had left them while dangling his keys in her face. In the middle of a department store. Smack dab in NYC. With no shortage of cabs for miles.

"What an idiot," laughed Jack.

"Right?" Emma hugged her pillow; she cocked her head at the screen and her shoulders slumped. "Damn, Oliver and Taylor's wedding is next weekend."

"Got a dress picked out, Maid of Honor?"

"Well, duh. But I chalked Heather up to expecting an invitation from Ethan." She buried her face in the pillow and Jack laughed when he looked over to find a mass of auburn hair spilling over a sofa cushion. "What do I do?" came her muffled wail.

"Don't sweat it. I'll be Heather's date."

Emma shot up. Her gray eyes were huge and ecstatic. "Oh my gosh." She leapt off of the couch, "Really?"

Jack shrugged and fast-forwarded through a preview. "Sure."

A moment later, Emma's arms were tight around his neck. "Thank you, thank you, thank you! Jack, I love you."

"Liar," laughed Jack. "Please get off me. You just made me swallow my gum."


Author's Note: :) We're picking up the pace next chapter at the Weston wedding! Expect new characters. And snubbing. And heroics. You know, general Emma deliciousness. Thank you for reading and reviewing, guys, you all seriously make my day.