Uncharted Territory

18. Garrett

18

Garrett

L ast night was supposed to clear the air between Emma and I, so why do I feel like I could choke on the tension between us this morning?

I thought you were disappointed.

Emma’s words have been rattling around in my brain all night. I’m not exactly sure what they meant. All I know is that she’s wrong. How could I ever be disappointed by her?

We’re all polite smiles and tense movements as we take turns getting ready inside the tent. At one point, we nearly collide, and I say ‘ope!’ like a Midwestern grandmother who just dropped a casserole. Emma doesn’t even give me shit about it. That’s how I know things are bad. Luckily, our early morning surfing lesson gives us both a break from tiptoeing around each other.

Everyone ventures a little further out into the ocean today, except for me. I stick closer to the shore and catch some smaller waves. Honestly though…I’m mostly watching Emma. Every time she pops up, she immediately wipes out. And every time she wipes out, my heart leaps up into my throat. The urge to go rescue her pulls at my stomach, but she always emerges from the water laughing at herself.

“You’re doing great, Emma!” Katie yells as Emma wades toward the shore after a particularly ungraceful fall.

“Really?” Emma hollers back skeptically. “I sort of feel like a one-woman blooper reel.”

“You’ve almost got it. Try popping up a little faster,” Katie says.

By the time that we’re all headed in for the day to eat dinner, only about half of the group has managed to stand up on their boards. Emma is not one of those people. She doesn’t seem any worse for the wear though. Truthfully, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her smile so much.

We all take our seats around the long picnic table. Emma sits next to me but doesn’t say anything. No surprise there – we’ve hardly spoken a word to each other all day.

Katie, on the other hand, wastes no time launching into conversation as she plops down across from both of us.

“Did you guys have fun today?” she asks.

“Yes!” Emma gushes. “I can’t believe how much I actually love surfing. Well, trying to surf, I should say.” She reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “I just hope I can get at least one wave before we leave.”

“You will,” I tell her at the same time that Katie says, “Totally!”

Katie looks at me and giggles, as if we just said the same thing. Somehow, I don’t think we did at all. She tries to hold my gaze for a few seconds, but I turn my attention back to the plate of food sitting in front of me. Her shoulders deflate a little in my periphery.

“So, you’ve travelled a lot, Garrett?” Katie presses. She’s been pestering me all day since I let it slip that I’ve gone on a few surfing trips in the past.

I grunt out a reply as I take a big bite of my burger.

“Costa Rica must have been so cool. Did you go with family…” Katie’s gaze slides toward Emma, “…or someone else…”

“My two brothers,” I say.

“Two brothers? I thought it was just you and Ethan?” Emma blurts out. As soon as the words leave her mouth, she realizes her mistake and flinches.

“And Silas,” I say, glancing over at Emma. “You remember your other cousin , Silas, don’t you?”

“Oh, right…Silas. Sometimes I forget about him because he’s, um…”

“Estranged from the family,” I say right as Emma settles on, “Adopted.”

Katie’s gaze shifts between the two of us. Her eyebrows scrunch together in confusion.

Personally, I don’t really care what Katie believes about Emma and me. As long as she doesn’t know that we’re scouting partnerships for my company, I couldn’t care less if she thinks that we’re cousins or a couple of surfing space aliens.

Emma, on the other hand, seems much more committed to our backstory.

“He’s both,” she says quickly. “He’s adopted, but he didn’t know it. Someone – our uncle – let it slip at a family reunion after a few too many drinks. Cyrus was devastated…”

“Silas,” I correct.

“Silas,” Emma practically yells. “Silas was devastated, obviously, and he hasn’t spoken to the family since. That’s why I forget about him sometimes. How many years ago was that, Garrett?”

“Lots.”

“Exactly…lots of years. And even before then, Silas wasn’t very memorable,” Emma rambles. “He was very quiet and…pale. And deaf in one ear.”

“Stop talking,” I say under my breath.

A rumble of laughter is caught in my chest. If she doesn’t shut up, I won’t be able to contain it.

Emma looks like a flash-frozen vegetable sitting there all stiff and wide-eyed. Katie seems more confused than ever, but when she looks at me, I can tell that she doesn’t really care who Silas is or why we’re obviously lying.

“I need more pickles,” Emma announces as she stands abruptly and marches off with her plate.

I watch Emma toss her plate in the garbage instead and walk off toward the beach. She takes a seat in the sand a few feet from the shoreline, silhouetted by the setting sun.

Emma sits there for a long time, even after the sun has disappeared under the horizon. I want to join her, but I’m pretty sure she wants to be left alone.

Katie lingers at the table across from me. She keeps chatting excitedly, even though all I offer in return are a few vague nods. All of my attention is focused on Emma, who is still sitting out by the water watching the waves.

When it starts to get chilly, Emma wraps her arms around herself and rubs her palms up and down her arms. Eventually, she stands up and walks back toward camp. Her eyes catch on mine, then flick over to Katie. A flash of something passes over her face, but she takes a deep breath and forces a weak smile.

“I’m going to head for bed,” she says, motioning toward the path to our tent. “I’ll see you guys in the morning.”

“Good night!” Katie chirps at her, but Emma is already walking away.

A long beat passes. I want to follow Emma back to the tent, but I remind myself that she needs some space right now.

“So, I take it you two aren’t really cousins?” Katie says, catching me off guard. For a second, I forgot she was there.

“No, we’re not.”

Katie nods slowly, like she’s waiting for more of an explanation.

I sigh heavily. “It’s complicated.”

Katie ponders this for a few seconds then quietly says, “Well, I don’t want to make things more complicated, but if you’re looking for a different place to crash tonight, I have a cabin right over there.” She flashes a flirty smile and points at a small blue bungalow past the row of tents.

Maybe Katie isn’t as nice as I thought. I can’t blame the girl for shooting her shot, but the timing of her proposition isn’t lost on me. I just told her things are complicated between Emma and me, and she’s still inviting me to stay the night in her cabin.

“No thanks,” I say, standing up suddenly to put even more space between us.

Katie shuffles to her feet as well, looking slightly taken aback and flustered. “Okay, sorry, I just thought…” she starts.

“It’s fine,” I interrupt, “but I’m not interested.”

Could I let her down easier? Probably. But after these last couple of weeks with Emma, my nerves are shot and my emotions are spent. I don’t have any courtesy to spare for anyone else.

Emma may not want to see me right now, but tough luck. She should’ve booked separate tents then.

As soon as I barge through the flaps of our tent unannounced, I realize that I miscalculated.

Emma is naked.

Well, not completely naked, but close.

She shrieks and clutches the cups of her swimsuit top against her breasts. The straps dangle freely at her sides. Below that, all she’s wearing is a pair of black bikini bottoms.

I freeze in the doorway. The civilized part of my brain tells me to apologize and retreat, but every other part of me is having trouble playing the gentleman right now. I’ve never really excelled at that anyway. My entire strategy for keeping myself out of a questionable situation with Emma has always hinged on acting like a total asshole. But no matter how much space I’ve tried to put between us, no matter how much I’ve tried to stay away, I can’t deny that things have changed between us. This trip is changing us, and I don’t know how we’re going to go back to normal once it’s over. I’ve kissed her, touched her, listened to her beg for more. As much as I’d love to honor that request, one thing hasn’t changed: she’s my employee. Not just any employee, but a very valuable employee who isn’t easily replaceable. The quickest way to ruin that is to touch her again.

There’s no going back, but there’s no moving forward either.

I expect Emma to scream at me to get the hell out, but she just presses her lips together and studies me instead.

“I thought you might spend the night at Katie’s,” she says.

“Of course not,” I say quietly.

Emma mulls this over for a second but doesn’t respond.

Tension fills the air around us, so thick I feel like it’s holding me in place. Emma turns to grab a shirt off the bed while holding her bra firmly in place with her other arm. Her eyes flick up to meet mine but she’s quick to look away.

“Could you please turn around so I can finish getting dressed?” she asks.

I nod stiffly and turn around. For several long moments, the rustling of clothing is the only sound.

“Okay,” she mumbles. I turn back around slowly. Emma is wearing a gray t-shirt and a pair of black pajama shorts. She busies herself with digging through her suitcase and doesn’t look up as she says, “You can have the bed tonight.”

“It’s fine. You take it.”

Emma levels an annoyed glare at me and sighs. “We agreed to alternate. I had the bed last night; it’s your turn.”

“No, you suggested that we alternate. I never agreed to it.”

“Seriously, Garrett? I’m trying to be nice and you’re still arguing with me?” she asks.

“I’m letting you have the bed. I’m trying to be nice as well.”

“Well, you’re really bad at it.”

Emma plants one hand on her hip and glares at me from across the tent. I glare back, amused by the fire in her eyes and the tension in her jaw.

Are we seriously fighting over who gets to sleep on the floor?

The absurdity of this situation hits me like a brick in the chest, forcing a hearty laugh out of my chest. Emma visibly jumps at the noise then manages to look even more annoyed with me.

“Why are you laughing?” she demands.

I shake my head and ignore her question. If she doesn’t see how ridiculous this argument is, explaining it won’t help. I walk over to the sleeping bag and peel off my t-shirt.

“Quit being stubborn,” I say without turning back to look at her. “Between the two of us, I think it’s pretty clear that I’ve spent more time sleeping on the ground.”

“Says the billionaire…” she mutters behind me.

I lick a smirk off my lips and turn around. Emma is staring directly at my chest. She blinks and glances away with pink rising in her cheeks.

“I’m not a billionaire…technically.”

It’s true. Honestly, I’m not even all that close, but I also understand how my life looks to other people. Millions and billions look the same to people who have to count every penny. I know that from experience, and I’m not going to argue semantics with anyone.

Well, except Emma. I’m happy to argue about anything with her. It’s better than the silent treatment.

“You’re seriously not going to take the bed?” she asks.

I take a seat on the sprawled out sleeping bag, rest my arms on my propped up knees, and shake my head. “Nope.”

“Fine,” she relents.

You’d think I just demanded that she sleep on a bed of nails.

Emma throws back the covers and plops down on the bed. She slides toward the middle before laying back and covering up like she’s expecting blizzard conditions inside the tent tonight.

I smile to myself, give my pillow a quick pat, and lie back on the sleeping bag.

We both lay there silently for a few minutes.

“Do you really have another brother?” Emma asks.

“Yeah.”

“You’ve never mentioned him.”

“We’re not close,” I tell her. That’s the understatement of the year.

“Ethan never mentions him either.”

I sigh into the darkness. “Well, I wasn’t lying when I said that he’s estranged from the family.”

“Because your drunk uncle told him he’s adopted?” she asks with a weak laugh.

“Good guess, but no. It’s complicated…drugs and, uh, some other stuff.”

Emma is quiet for a beat then softly replies, “Oh, sorry to hear that.”

Silence stretches out between us in the dark tent. Unlike last night, neither of us tosses or turns. In fact, I don’t think either of us moves at all.

Just when I think she’s dozed off, Emma speaks again. “Do you really have a dog?”

“Why would I lie about having a dog, Emma?” I say with a big, dumb smile on my face.

“I don’t know,” she says defensively. “You’ve never mentioned him either.”

“Well, I can’t imagine a situation that would warrant discussing my dog at work.”

“It’s called small talk, Garrett. You should try it some time.”

“I believe I’m trying it right now. Can’t say I care for it very much.”

There’s some rustling then a pillow lands squarely on my face.

“What the –?” is all I manage to get out before Emma’s cackling interrupts me.

The smell of Emma quite literally smacks me in the face. Her strawberry shampoo and the soft scent of sunlight on her skin. All the things I don’t need to be reminded of when we’re alone together in a dark tent.

Emma is still laughing when I pull the pillow off my face. I see her outline sitting up in bed, her shoulders shaking with laughter.

“For the record, I totally don’t believe that you have a dog,” she says.

I sit up and unplug my phone from the charger then toss it up on the bed. The screen lights up. Emma stares over at it like it might be a bomb.

“Go ahead, take a look,” I coax.

She reaches over and slowly drags the phone closer to her. The screen illuminates her face as she goes from confused to surprised.

“This is your dog?” she asks with a smile.

“Yep, that’s Ron.”

Her eyes flick up to mine as she quirks an eyebrow at me. “This could be a stock photo. It doesn’t prove anything.”

“Emma, do I honestly seem like the sort of man who spends his time seeking out stock photos of basset hounds and downloading them to his phone?”

“You might be. That’s sort of the point, isn’t it?” she asks. “I’ve worked for you for eleven months now, and I know almost nothing about you.”

There it is again – eleven months. It seems oddly specific.

“Well, if you require further proof, there’s a text thread from my mom. She likes to keep me apprised of Ron’s daily activities while I’m away. I can pull it up if you’d like,” I say.

Emma looks like she’s trying to resist but gives in quickly and nods.

I shake my head as I stand up and walk over to the bed. Our fingers brush against each other as Emma hands me the phone, making us both pause for the briefest second. I pull up my mom’s messages, which are quite literally nothing but updates and pictures of Ron ever since I left for this trip. When I pass the phone back to Emma, her face lights up a little more with every little scroll.

“Okay, I believe you. Ron is adorable,” she says. “Are these your parents?”

Emma holds the phone up to show me a photo of my mom and dad holding Ron up between them for an awkward selfie.

“Yeah, that’s them.”

Emma nods vaguely and studies the photo. “They have a beautiful house,” she says, pausing on another photo of Ron laying in their backyard with the house in the background.

Pride wells up in my chest. It’s a reminder of what all of this is about – making sure my family is taken care of. Making sure my parents never have to worry about food or housing or money again.

When I don’t say anything, Emma glances up at me and hands the phone back. The tent goes dark again as I turn off the screen.

This feels very precarious, standing over Emma’s bed in the darkness with a cord of tension between us so thick that a chainsaw couldn’t even cut through it. Before I make yet another mistake with her, I retreat to the sleeping bag and lay back down.

“I’m keeping this pillow,” I tell her as I settle back into the sleeping bag. “You have more than enough.”

Emma fakes an offended little scoff. “Fine, it was worth it. The sound of that pillow hitting your face was immensely satisfying.”

The last two words come out in an undeniably suggestive tone, leaving me to wonder what else Emma might find immensely satisfying. We’re both silent for a few minutes in the dark tent.

“You know, it’s not like you’ve been very forthcoming with the details of your personal life this past year either,” I say, waiting for her to correct me again over the number of months we’ve worked together.

“You never asked,” she lobs back.

“Fair enough.” I try to think of something personal to ask that won’t further endear me to the one person I can’t have. “Do you have a dog, Emma?”

She laughs into the darkness. “No, I have a cat.”

“Well, I think this conversation is over then. Not much to say about a cat, is there?”

“Oh, I could go on all night about my cat,” she says.

“Please don’t.”

“Fine, I’ll save it for tomorrow.”

“Looking forward to it,” I say sarcastically. Pathetically, I sort of am. At least it means she plans on talking to me tomorrow. “Good night, Emma.”

“Good night, Garrett.”

I drift off to sleep with my face shamelessly buried in the smell of strawberries and sunshine.