Chapter 24
TWENTY-FOUR
Emmett
Since being back to work, I haven’t really found myself rushing through anything; I spend most days taking my time and putting in the effort to show Dad and Davis that I’m serious about this and that I can be trusted with my position here.
Today, however, I rush. I fly through as many emails as possible, speak a mile a minute through all of my phone calls, and take lunch in my office so that I can get even more done. It doesn’t change the hours in the day, but it makes it feel like I’m getting through it just a little bit faster.
I know that I shouldn’t be this excited at the idea of meeting up with Nash, but it’s all I can think about. All I want to do is get out of here and get lost in him, but keeping him a secret won’t work longterm and I know that I eventually have to either commit to it fully or let him go.
As the hours whiz by, I knock on the door of my dad’s office, interrupting a conversation between himself and Rowan as I step inside.
“Sorry,” I tell them. “Just wanted to make sure you got the messages I forwarded to you about the collective. I want to give them an answer before the end of the day.”
Turning to his computer, Dad clicks through a few things. “You’ve been running around like a madman all day, bud,” he says. “Are you trying to get out of here early for something?”
Almost as if in slow-motion, I watch playful mischief cross over my best friend’s face, and she looks at me with that same look the kid in school who asks ‘are you going to collect our homework?’ gets right before he speaks up and ruins everyone’s day.
“Yeah,” she croons, “have plans with your girlfriend?”
If I didn’t love her so much, I could strangle her to death right here and now.
Dad’s eyes widen and snap to me. “Girlfriend?” He echoes. “When did that happen?”
Fuck. Me.
“Ah,” I stammer, “A…couple months ago, I guess.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? I would love to meet her.”
Once again, I’m lying to my dad. Once again, it feels like crap.
There’s only ever been that one part of myself that I didn’t share with him.
Aside from that, I’ve always been able to tell him things, and I’ve never hesitated once to tell him about a woman that I was seeing.
As soon as we hit that third date, I’ve told him.
Always, without fail; which is kind of ironic, in the grand scheme of things, considering how terrible I was to him the one time he brought a woman around before he met his wife.
And then I did the same thing with her, too.
Just telling him that it’s been a couple of months is probably already setting off alarm bells in his mind. I doubt he’s considering the possibility that the person I’m seeing is a man, but it’s out of character for me to not come to him about it and he’s absolutely going to take note of that.
“I don’t think we’re ready for that yet,” I tell him honestly. “We’re still figuring things out.”
“So he’s serious about her,” Ro croons, leaning in like she’s trying to tell him some kind of secret.
This is my own personal hell.
“I’m—” I scrub a hand down my face and sigh. “I’m going back to my office.”
“Emmett, she’s teasing,” Dad says. “Bring her to dinner next week.”
“Bye!” I wave to them as I hurry out of the room, wishing that I was anywhere but here right now.
This is what I get for keeping secrets; my lies stacking on top of each other until they blow up in my face. I probably could have said something in there. I could have told them both.
Maybe the fact that I didn’t say anything, that I actively chose not to, tells me everything that I need to know.
·
‘Enormous’ isn’t enough to describe the size of this house.
My dad’s house is massive, and I can only imagine the kind of trouble he’ll be in when my sister starts walking and getting into things.
We still lived with my grandparents when I went mobile; there’s not a lot of trouble a kid can get into in a basement.
This place is even bigger than Dad’s. If it weren’t for the gated driveway, I would believe that I was standing in front of a hotel right now.
Calling this place a house feels like an insult to it.
The front yard itself is probably two and a half thousand square feet of cement and decoratively-cut topiaries that sit in front of a beautiful Mediterranean style home, which absolutely looks like somewhere that Nash Montgomery would choose to live.
Ringing the doorbell, I almost wish I’d brought something with me to do, because if he’s on the other end of the house, it could take him years to get to the damn door. It’ll be my thirtieth birthday by the time he gets here.
The large door opens to reveal Nash, dressed in another crisp white suit and actually smiling at me.
He gestures for me to come inside and I follow, taking a look around the interior of the house as I walk through.
He doesn’t have much décor around the place; a few pieces here and there, but nothing personal that screams ‘this house belongs to someone.’ Considering what a flashy person he is, he keeps his home considerably more subdued.
A few harsh barks sound from the top of the curved staircase at the far end of the room and a good-sized doberman comes hurtling toward us.
“Who is this?” I gush, crouching down to get on the dog’s level.
“That’s Moose,” Nash tells me, “and he will bite you. Get up.”
Before I even have the time to brush him off, the dog slams into me with the force of a goddamn train and knocks me from my heels to my ass. I scratch at his ears and he responds by licking me in the face with a fury.
“Moose, down,” Nash commands, and the dog stops what he’s doing and drops into a laying position with his tail wagging.
I give Moose another scratch behind the ear as I stand. “He’s beautiful,” I comment. “I always wanted one of those for myself. My dad has an Aussie and he’s so cool.”
“You know, owning your own home kind of means that you can get a pet,” he teases. “You don’t need to ask for your father’s permission.”
I follow Nash through the main floor, taking in the sprawling space so undecorated that it still has an echo while he speaks, telling me about the house.
We pass five bathrooms, a handful of bedrooms, and a ridiculously large dining hall before landing in a room which is set up like a lounge.
A baby grand piano sits at one corner of the room and a small bar sits at the opposite end with a few stools pulled up to it and a large TV is mounted to the wall behind it.
“How big is this place?” I finally ask.
“Fifteen thousand and some change.”
“Christ,” I breathe. “That’s a lot of space for one guy. Don’t you get lonely in here?”
“It isn’t just me,” he shrugs, and my eyebrow arches in response. “There’s almost always someone on staff here. They rotate out.”
“Staff?” I scoff. “Nash. You have staff? For your house?”
He almost looks like he’s shocked that I would ask such an incredibly stupid question. “Well, of course I do. I can’t take care of this place by myself.”
“Oh my god.” I pinch the bridge of my nose with a laugh and tell him, “The point is so close and you’re still missing it. That’s why you get a smaller place.”
“You won’t say that when you see the pool. Come on.” He turns to his dog, who sits faithfully nearby. “Moose, go to bed.”
I watch as the dog diligently does exactly as he’s told; he turns on his four little paws and traipses out of the room, seemingly headed straight for bed. Are dogs supposed to have a bedtime?
I follow Nash back through the main floor of the house, behind the curved staircase and through the mudroom to a large door that leads to what I believe to be the back yard.
The pool takes up most of the space, bordered by stones of varying size and shade.
At the far end of it sits a massive stone waterfall, and a path leads to a recessed lounge which sits at the center of the pool, complete with couches, a small bar, and an unlit fire pit.
The water in the pool surrounding it is so blue that it practically glows.
“This is your happy place.”
It’s the only place on the property that truly has any life to it. He probably spends most of his free time out here – except for the time that he’s been spending with me, the realization of which tugs at something in my chest, leaving an ache in its place.
“Come on,” Nash tells me, smacking me on the ass. “Strip.” I watch as he slips off his jacket and unbuttons his shirt, peeling it off and dropping it in the grass next to him. “It’s heated,” he promises with a wink.
He reaches for the buckle of his belt and I play catch-up, shrugging off my suit jacket and stripping off the shirt beneath it.
The quiet of our disrobing is almost intimate, and it isn’t until we’re both standing in our underwear and headed for the water that he finally touches my skin, pressing a warm hand between my shoulder blades to guide me into the pool.
The water is warm and relaxing, lapping against my body as I step further into it until I’m covered up to my chest.
“None of this was here when I bought the property,” Nash explains. “It was all just empty land back here. It took a year of planning and another two to get it finished once I knew what I wanted.”
“It was your passion project,” I smile. “It’s really beautiful, Nash.”
The water is his safety net, just like it is mine.
It brings him life, while it makes me want to fight for mine.
He slides into the pool, looking like a fucking modern day Poseidon, and he moves closer to me. My mouth quirks to the side as I glide further away, staying just out of his reach and making him follow me.
Our little game of cat and mouse comes to an end near the recessed lounge when Nash catches up to me and pushes my back against the wall of it.