The Relationship Clause

Chapter 22

I shudderas I emerge from the men’s steam room. My masseuse insisted I stay in for at least thirty minutes, but I couldn’t make it that long. Five minutes was four and a half minutes too long. More than a couple of elderly gentlemen missed the memo that towels should be worn at all times for sanitary purposes, and they really should have been wearing towels.

I put my robe back on and I’m looking around to orient myself as to which way the dressing rooms are when I catch sight of Junie.

“There you are,” I say. “I was wondering if you survived your encounter with Ingrid the Intimidating.”

She chuckles weakly. “Barely. The steam helped melt the trauma away. What about you? Have you recovered from your run-in with The Terminator?”

“I don’t know if I ever will.”

She smiles up at me, and I almost can’t believe this is real life. Ever since yesterday when we kissed in the snow, it’s like Junie has let so many of her walls down for me. I don’t know if I can confidently say she’s let them all down, but something has definitely shifted.

This morning, we ate breakfast together in her bed, and then I held her in my arms. Afterwards, I found myself wondering if I’d ever been happier. It’s a paradoxical question, because I think I’m finding that every new moment I spend with her is somehow better than the last. Well, excluding the part where we were literally being beaten apart with sticks and then I lost my towel, but at least Junie didn’t see that last bit.

At least, I don’t think she did…

I want to wrap her up in my arms and create another new favorite moment in the middle of the hallway, but I resist. The last thing I want is for Junie to think I’m taking advantage of the fact that we’re still in a somewhat compromised state of dress.

“You know what I could go for tonight?” Junie says, stepping closer so we’re toe to toe.

“What’s that?”

“Sushi.” She reaches out, running her hand along the plush lapel of my robe. The move is way hotter than it should be.

“Cashing in on that promise already, are you?” I smooth a damp piece of hair away from her face, and her eyes darken.

“Uh-huh. Don’t want you to think I’ve forgotten.” With slow movements, she cinches the belt on my robe more tightly closed. We’re playing a strange, flirtatious game, and I never want it to end.

“Unfortunately, I think we’re going to have to take a raincheck on the sushi.”

She frowns, jutting out her bottom lip. I want to kiss it. “Why? Trying to get out of it already?”

“No, it’s not that.” I move closer to Junie to let someone pass us in the hall. “We have a prior engagement.”

She looks at me questioningly.

“Dinner with my dad.”

Her pouty lips become even more kissable. “Oh, yeah. I almost forgot about that.”

“Trust me, I wish I could. As it stands, my dad has texted me no less than three times to remind me, so I don’t think there’s any way we could get out of it.”

And trust me, I would love to get out of this dinner tonight. What I’d rather do is convince Junie to go to dinner with me somewhere other than sushi—don’t worry, it’ll happen eventually—then take her back to the lodge where we can watch a movie and maybe kiss once or twice or a hundred times.

Unfortunately, blowing my dad off would only lead to more pain down the road, so to dinner with him we shall go.

We head back to our suite to shower and get ready. Being a typical, low-maintenance type of guy, I’m dressed in my suit and ready almost an hour before we need to leave. While I wait for her, I flip through channels on the TV. It gets old quickly though, and I turn it off after a while.

“So,” Junie calls from her bedroom, “is there anything I should know before dinner tonight? I’m a little nervous about having a fancy dinner with your dad and his girlfriend, or whatever she is to him.”

“Well, my dad will most likely end the night drunk—”

“I’m sensing a theme with Fred.”

“Yeah, definitely, but other than that, there’s not much to be nervous about. It won’t be just the four of us.”

“But I thought this was supposed to be a family thing.”

“It hasn’t been exclusively family for a few years now. We’re lucky we haven’t run into any of my dad’s other friends while we’ve been here.” Not that that happened completely by accident. I may or may not have purposely avoided a couple encounters. “My mom stopped coming right about the time she started having her affair, and my dad started inviting work friends ever since. It’s his way of trying to fill the void.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. That must be hard for both of you.”

“It’s alright. There are a lot of complicated emotions associated with this yearly trip, but I’ve worked through a lot of them with my therapist, so it’s not so bad anymore. Plus, having you here helps.”

There’s a long pause on the other side of the door. “You see a therapist?”

I chuckle, pretending I don’t feel as nervous about the revelation as I do. “You know my family history. Don’t you think I need one?”

“Oh, that’s not what I mean. I—”

“You’re surprised I admitted it.”

“...Yeah.”

“I admit, it’s not the first thing I tell people when I meet them. But needing or wanting therapy is nothing to be ashamed of. I think a lot of people could benefit from it, whether they have anything heavy to work through or not.”

Finally her doorknob rattles, and I straighten from where I’d been leaning on the wall, smoothing the creases out of my pants.

When Junie emerges out of her bedroom, I can’t help staring.

She’s wearing a dress made of a deep-green, flowy material. The dress cinches in at her waist and flows past her hips. I nearly choke on my own tongue when I see the slit in the dress and the long peek of skin it reveals. The color looks amazing with her red hair, which is done up in some kind of fancy twist thing behind her head.

“Wow.” The word falls out of my mouth, but I’m not even embarrassed. Junie deserves every wow.

She doesn’t seem to mind my praise. In fact, I think she glows a little brighter. “I want you to know I would have had nothing to wear to this dinner tonight if it hadn’t been for your sister warning me I’d need something fancy and helping me pack.”

I can’t respond. Mostly because my thoughts have snagged on that line about Junie having nothing to wear. A wolfish part of my brain is wishing my sister hadn’t said anything to her at all…

Junie clears her throat, and I know a flush creeps up my neck. Again, she looks pleased with herself. Is she enjoying my reaction? Doing this on purpose?

I give her hand a little squeeze and tuck it into the crook of my arm, pulling her with me out of the room and toward the elevator. She clears her throat, and I find myself walking slower, trying to stretch this time with just the two of us for a little while longer.

Normally, I’d have about a thousand pounds of anxious pressure sitting on my chest like an obnoxious and overweight cat. These big, fancy dinners with Dad and his friends always make me feel like that. But that’s not the case this time.

Because I have Junie at my side.

“I’m glad you’re here with me,” I whisper.

Why am I whispering? It’s just the two of us waiting for the elevator. There’s no one else around.

She squeezes my arm. “Me too.”

“No, I mean…” I need to make her understand what I’m feeling. But words are stupid, and I’m not sure even I understand what’s going on in my head right now.

The elevator doors open, and we step inside. I pull Junie closer to me, taking both her hands in mine. My heart pounds an erratic rhythm against my ribcage. I swallow hard, meet Junie’s curious eyes—more green than blue right now—and swallow again.

“We have opposite problems.” My voice cracks like a teenager’s. Dang nerves. “You’ve had more dates than I even want to think about.” She breaks my gaze, a flush coming to her cheeks, but I bring her back, stroking the side of her face gently. I’m already messing this up. But there’s no going back now, so I plow on. “Whereas I normally don’t want to think about dating. I avoid it. I have for a long time, ever since Shane and I started our business, I guess. I didn’t want to end up like my parents: corporate giants trying to fit their feet into these glass-slipper relationships while hurting themselves and everyone around them in the process.”

Junie tilts her head, bunching her lips together as she considers my words. I have no idea what she’s thinking, and I can’t stop too long to wonder. The elevator is already slowing down. Any second now, the doors will open, and it will be a short walk to the restaurant attached to the lodge, and then we’ll be in the company of my father and who knows how many other people. I’ve got to keep going.

I move closer to her, so close that I can smell her shampoo. It forces her to look up at me, and the light from the elevator makes something on her skin sparkle, like she applied a faint dusting of glitter on her cheeks. I brush the pad of my thumb against one of them, relishing the silken touch of her skin.

“The thing is, when I’m with you, I feel like I want to try. I’m still afraid I’ll mess this up or that I’ll turn out just like my parents, but I want to try. I’m ready to dive in headfirst, regardless of the consequences. Is that unfair to you though?”

The elevator comes to a complete stop. The wild urge to press the emergency stop button like they sometimes do in movies shoots through me. I resist, and the doors open, revealing another couple waiting to get on.

I’m not ready to end this conversation. We barely got started.

Who am I kidding? This isn’t a conversation. It’s a monologue like villains do in movies right before they’re about to blow things up. Well, I’m no villain, but things might still explode. I need to know what Junie thinks about all this, how she feels. I know she has fears of her own, she admitted to running away a lot, but will this make her more scared? Will she run even harder because of everything I admitted?

We shuffle out of the elevator, and I cast a glance around for a new hiding place for us. Anything. A statue, a giant potted fern, a secluded alcove, but before I can make any decisions, a hand clamps down on my shoulder, and I turn to see my dad, once again ruining the moment.

I’m getting sick of this recurring motif in my life.

“There you are, Son. I was about to come looking for you two. Thought maybe you forgot about our dinner plans tonight.” He squeezes my shoulder briefly but hard, then lets go and walks away.

Junie and I grimace at each other but follow at a distance.

“Is it me,” Junie whispers, “or did he already kind of smell like alcohol?”

“No,” I grumble. All of the emotions previously buzzing through me have soured, dropping into my stomach like dead flies. “It isn’t you.”

This night is going to be a disaster.

I glance down at Junie, hoping to meet her gaze, possibly gauge where she’s at after all of my confessions, but she keeps her eyes ahead. “Do you think your dad would be too upset if I visit the restroom before we go into the restaurant?” she asks.

I wince, hating that she feels the need to ask this, but at the same time, completely understanding.

“I’ll take care of him,” I say, stopping by the sign for the restrooms. “Go ahead.”

The only thing that comforts me is when she squeezes my arm right before she lets go. Maybe I’m reading too much into it, but it feels like a promise. A promise that I haven’t messed things up and we’ll talk more later.