2. Braxton
Chapter 2
Braxton
I take a sip of strong black coffee as I stare out of the floor-to-ceiling windows that adorn the back of our house. I’m drinking out of my favourite mug. Jem bought it for me on our first official Valentine’s Day together, eight years ago. The inscription on the front still brings a smile to my face. ‘You’re cute, can I keep you?’
It has a small chip on the rim and the interior of the once white mug is now stained yellow from all the coffee I’ve consumed in it, and part of the love heart on the front has worn away over time, but I adore this mug and everything it represents. Nowhere near as much as I adore my wife, though.
The ocean is less than forty metres away from where I’m standing, but the rain is pelting down so hard that I can’t even see it. An uneasy feeling settles in the pit of my stomach, and I don’t know why. I’m not anxious about the meeting I have this morning; I’m confident the deal is in the bag. Even so, something feels off.
Maybe the thought of Jemma being out there in this weather doesn’t sit well with me. I know she feels like I smother her sometimes, but it’s only because I love her so much. I’ve never loved anyone, or anything, as deeply as I do her. She’s like the missing part of my soul.
Removing my phone from my pocket, I search through my contacts for her number. She would have got a bit of traffic on the way to work this morning, especially with this rain, but surely she’d be there by now.
I’m not concerned when it goes straight to voicemail. Her boss is a pompous arsehole, so she probably turned her phone off to avoid getting into trouble. I’d love nothing more than to wring his neck for the way he speaks to her sometimes, but I know Jem wouldn’t want that. She loves her job, and all I want is for her to be happy.
Opening my messages, I shoot her a text.
Me: Just checking in to make sure you arrived at work safely. Is it wrong that I miss you already? Because I do. I can’t wait for our date tonight. Hope you have a great day. Call me when you get a chance.
It will ease my mind to know she’s okay. My head needs to be in the game this morning. This deal means everything to me, and my business partner, Lucas—it’s the break we need to catapult our company to the next level.
I know the roads are going to be chaotic, so I head into the kitchen and pour the remainder of my coffee into a travel mug before grabbing my briefcase and the plans for the new shopping centre we’ve designed from my office. This is the first time Lucas and I have branched out from our usual portfolio of designing houses and office blocks. If we pull this off, it will be the biggest deal we’ve ever landed and will launch our small architectural firm into the big league.
Lucas and I are still young and have long careers ahead of us, but that doesn’t stop us from yearning for that big break. It’s what we’ve always strived for. We met at university eight years ago and clicked straight away. He’s not only my business partner, he’s like a brother to me. Our ideas are fresh, and we’re not afraid to push boundaries. It’s what gives us the edge over our competition—we’re visionaries, you could say. There are exciting times ahead for L now they can’t stand to be in the same room. Well, Christine can’t stand to be in the same room as Stephen. We had to sit them at opposite sides of the room at our wedding reception. Jemma’s mother threatened not to attend if she was seated anywhere near him.
It’s hard to witness what this animosity does to Jem; she loves her parents and hates being brought into the middle of their drama. It’s ludicrous. Stephen messed up, but he’s remorseful for what he did. He’s a good man. I’ve always liked him. I’m not condoning what he did—he made a mistake, a huge one—but Christine played a hand in it as well, and it’s not fair that she’s making us all suffer. Especially now; now is the time to focus on Jem.
“She’s my daughter too, Chris. I have a right to be here.”
“Huh,” she huffs.
Stepping back from Jemma’s mother, I walk towards her father and shake his hand. “No word yet. Hopefully, the doctor will be able to tell us something soon.”
He bows his head. “She’s my little girl … my pumpkin,” he whispers.
I have to fight back my own tears as I watch him. She has to be okay . I can’t even fathom any other outcome.