26. Braxton
Chapter 26
Braxton
N ow that Jemma has started running again, I get to see her almost every day. The best part is having her at our home, even if it’s only for a short time. In those moments I can pretend we are everything we once were. And it gives me hope that one day we will be that again.
Today at the end of her physiotherapy we received the best possible news: no more sessions.
“I guess those morning runs along the beach have done me wonders,” Jemma says with a sweet smile as we leave the rehab centre for the last time. They’ve helped us and our relationship as well. I feel we’ve taken a huge step forward. “I can’t believe this is my last time here. I can finally try to put this all behind me and move on with my life,” she adds as we head towards the car.
All I can think is: Please don’t let that be a life without me.
“We should celebrate,” I suggest, all the while expecting her to shut me down.
“Celebrate how?”
“I could take you out for dinner tonight.”
When her brow furrows, I already know what the answer is. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”
“Oh.” Just as I suspected. “Never mind, it was just an idea.”
I break away from her, heading towards the passenger side to open her door.
She grabs hold of my elbow. “Braxton, wait.”
“It’s okay, Jemma.” I turn to face her and force out a smile. “Forget I even mentioned it.”
“I don’t want to forget it,” she says. “Tonight we’re having a farewell dinner for Rachel at Christine’s, you’re welcome to come if you like … or we can go out to dinner tomorrow night.”
“Really?”
“Or course.”
I try not to show how happy this makes me, but I fail miserably.
I help her into the vehicle, before walking around the front of the car towards the driver’s side. I’m whistling as I go.
“Braxton,” Jemma says shyly, picking at an imaginary piece of lint on her pants. “Christine told me you didn’t leave my side when I was in a coma, and, well … you’ve helped me every step of the way since. If I haven’t already said it, I just want to say thank you. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”
Her eyes finally meet mine. “You don’t have to thank me, Jem. I promised to love you in sickness and in health, and I meant every word.”
There’s a sweet grin on her face as she reaches for her seatbelt. “Just so you know, if I had to choose one person to celebrate with, it would be you.”
Her words are spoken with such sincerity.
“What are you looking so cheery about?” Lucas asks when I waltz into his office.
“I’ll be leaving early today.”
“The reason?”
“I have a date. Well, technically it’s not a date, but I’m taking Jemma out to dinner tonight. She’s finally finished with her rehab, so we’re going to celebrate.”
“No shit? I’m happy to hear that, buddy.”
I plonk myself down in the leather chair opposite his desk. “I feel like we’re making actual progress.”
“For your sake, I hope you’re right. Just don’t go getting your hopes up. I’d hate for you to be let down again.”
“I know. But as long as she’s still willing to have me in her life, I’m not giving up on us.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
“So, how are you?” I ask.
“I’m super, why?” The way he squirms in his seat tells me he knows where I’m going with this question.
“Are you going to pretend you didn’t tell me you were in love with Rachel the other night?”
He shrugs. “It was stupid drunk talk. I didn’t know what I was saying.”
“Right. You had what—two beers? I know you—even drunk-arse Lucas doesn’t say things he doesn’t mean.”
His body stiffens as his pleading eyes meet mine. “Can we drop it?”
“Okay. Just tell me one thing: how long has this been going on?”
“I don’t know. Five or six years, I guess,” he says, slumping back into his seat.
“Five or six years ? Shit. How did I not see this?”
“Because you were always too busy following Jemma around like a lost puppy.” I smile at that; he’s probably right. “At first it was a bit of fun. I mean, she’s hot, she’s funny … what’s not to like? We’d hook up now and then. After she moved to New York, I missed her, and that’s when I realised I’d developed genuine feelings.”
“And those feelings weren’t reciprocated?”
“I thought we were going to drop this,” he snaps, running his fingers through his hair as he huffs out a breath.
“I’m sorry, mate.”
“Shit happens. She’s not the first, and she certainly won’t be the last.” He tries to brush it off with a casual flick of his hand.
Why do I get the feeling that his words are hollow?
It’s around four when I leave the office. I’m not picking Jem up until six, but I have a few things to do before then.
The first thing on my agenda is to pick up my dry-cleaning, then head to the florist to buy flowers for Jemma. Not just any old flowers, her favourite kind.
I’ve made a reservation at our favourite restaurant, The Sea Shanty. It’s where I took her on our first date. She won’t remember that, of course, but I can only hope it will spark some kind of recognition, especially considering she designed the interior.
The food has always been amazing—the best seafood in town—but when we first started going there, the décor was dated and mismatched. It used to drive Jemma insane, so when the new management took over four years ago, she was delighted when they hired her to redesign the place.
I can’t wait for her reaction when she sees it. I told the owners, Matt and Naomi, about Jemma’s memory loss when I made the reservation.
I don’t want them to be offended by her aloofness, nor do I want them to say anything that might upset her. I need tonight to be perfect.
I take Bella-Rose for a walk along the beach when I get home from work, before jumping in the shower. I’m standing in front of the sink in the bathroom, shaving, when I hear my phone ding in the bedroom, alerting me I have a message.
After washing my face, I head back into the bedroom, with my towel hanging low around my waist. My black trousers and the blue shirt Jemma bought me when we were on our honeymoon in Hawaii are laid out on the bed. She said it reminded her of my eyes. It will be the first chance I’ve had to wear it.
When I see Jemma’s name on the screen, I get a sinking feeling in my stomach at the thought that she might be cancelling.
Jemma: I’m excited about tonight. Rachel and I went shopping yesterday afternoon. I bought a new dress. I hope you like it.
I’m smiling as I type my reply. The fact that she even cares if I like it means a lot. I don’t want to get my hopes up, because technically this is just a celebration dinner, but I have a good feeling about tonight.
Me: I’m looking forward to tonight too, I reply. I can’t wait to see your new dress. I don’t doubt for a second that you’ll look beautiful.
My stomach flutters with both excitement and nerves when I pull into Christine’s driveway. I wasn’t even this nervous when I took her out on our very first date, but things are different now.
The young, na?ve Braxton took everything for granted. Back then, I presumed she would be mine forever, but now I know better.
I tell myself I’m being stupid. It’s just dinner with Jem, there’s nothing to be nervous about. We’ve dined together thousands of times over the years.
When the door opens and I’m greeted by Jemma’s smiling face, all my nerves vanish. I take a step back, as my eyes travel down the length of her body. The sight of her literally takes my breath away.
She’s wearing a red silk sleeveless dress that stops just above her knees. It’s simple, yet incredibly sexy, accentuating her luscious lean body perfectly. I’ve always loved her in red. The colour stands out beautifully against her dark hair and olive complexion.
“Wow!”
“You like?” she says, placing her hand over the scar on her arm. I hate that it makes her feel self-conscious.
“I love,” I reply, using my free hand to gently remove hers. Those scars will be a permanent reminder to us both, but they’re a part of her now. “You don’t have to hide from me, Jem.”
She gives me a tight smile. “I love your shirt,” she says. “It makes your blue eyes pop.”
Her smile is worth the time it took to iron. “You bought this for me on our honeymoon.”
“I have good taste.”
“Of course you do: you married me, didn’t you?” She laughs as she playfully slaps my arm. “Oh, I almost forgot,” I say, holding the flowers out to her. “These are for you.”
When her face lights up, my heart sings. That’s exactly the look I was hoping for; it confirms my old Jem is still in there somewhere.
“They’re beautiful, thank you.” I’m transfixed as she brings them to her nose and closes her eyes. My lips curve up when she inhales deeply. “Mmm. The roses smell divine. And I love the purple and yellow together.”
“They have always been your favourite.”
She smiles and moves to the side so I can enter. “Come in, I’ll just put these in water before we go.”
When she turns and walks towards the kitchen, I follow, but I’m instantly stopped in my tracks when I notice the red dress she’s wearing is backless.
Completely backless .
The base stops just above the curve of her perfect round arse. I inwardly groan as I shove my hands in my pockets. Everything in me wants to reach out and touch her—if I can get through the night without doing exactly that, it will be a damn miracle.
We fall into easy conversation on the way to the restaurant, but my mind is consumed by that dress. If she wore it to drive me crazy, she succeeded.
As we exit the car and head towards the restaurant, I instinctively go to place my hand on the small of her back, but I quickly rethink that move; touching her silky soft skin will do me no favours. I feel utterly frustrated … I’ve been aching for this woman for months.
“Wow, this place is beautiful,” she says as soon as we step inside The Sea Shanty. “Oh, look at that row of round windows. They look like they’re off a ship.”
“They are.”
“What a neat idea … such a great touch.” Her comment makes me smile.
Naomi, the owner, walks into the reception area a minute later.
“Braxton, it’s so good to see you again.” She pulls me into a hug, before moving her attention to Jemma. She’s smiling, but I can also see a hint of sadness in her expression; she knows about the accident and everything it took from her. “Hi, I’m Naomi.”
“Hi. It’s lovely to meet you,” Jemma replies, extending her hand, but Naomi ignores it, opting to pull her into an embrace instead. I’m pleased to see Jemma grinning when Naomi lets her go. “You have a lovely place here.”
“We have your amazing eye for detail to thank for that.”
Jemma’s eyes, clearly confused, briefly dart towards me. That look has me internally wincing. Maybe I should have prewarned her. I can only imagine how it must feel to be thrust into a world you’ve forgotten.
In my defence, I was curious to see her authentic reaction, but I’ve also learned over the past few months to ease into things gently with Jemma, otherwise, she becomes overwhelmed.
“Matthew, get your sexy butt out here,” Naomi calls out over her shoulder, “Braxton and Jemma are here.”
Her comment makes me laugh, I love these two, and Jemma did too.
“Where are my two favourite people?” he bellows from somewhere in the back of the restaurant.
His face lights up as soon as he steps into the reception area. He vigorously shakes my hand before pulling Jemma into a crushing hug. When he finally lets her go, he cups her face in his hands.
“How have you been, sweet girl? We heard about what happened, and my wife and I were shaken by the news.”
Jemma smiles awkwardly and retreats a step. I see Naomi elbow him in the side and I have to roll my lips to hide my amusement.
“I’m doing okay,” she answers, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. That’s when I notice she’s not only wearing her memory bracelet on her wrist, but also the shell earrings I gave her when we were kids.
“Come on, Matthew,” says Naomi, “leave them be. I have your table ready,” she finishes, turning to me.
“Only the best table in the house for our favourite customers,” Matt adds.
They lead us out to their private dining area on the balcony, overlooking a clear, uninterrupted view of the ocean. She wasn’t kidding about the best seats in the house.
I had booked this same table for our nineteen-day anniversary, the day of Jemma’s accident. It has taken us longer than I planned to make it here, but finally, the night has come.
I pull Jemma’s chair out for her when we reach the table. “Always such a gentleman,” Naomi states, elbowing Matt in the ribs. “You could learn a thing or two from him, Matthew Sutherland.”
“Do we know these people well?” Jemma asks when we’re finally alone.
“We used to dine here often.”
“Oh. They seem nice.”
“They’re good people.”
I watch her as her eyes move around the space. The old Jem would do that everywhere we went. “The view from here is spectacular.”
“It’s breathtaking,” I reply, looking straight at her.
“I love the way this place is decorated.”
“Would you be surprised if I told you that you decorated it?”
Her eyes widen. “No way. Really?”
“Uh-huh.”
She looks around in wonderment. “I’m impressed that I did this. It has a very nautical feel to it. The perfect décor for a seafood restaurant.”
“That’s the look you were going for.” She decorated it in a similar colour scheme to our own home: whites, blues, and a hint of yellow here and there. “You have an amazing talent for interior design.”
She goes quiet and I notice her gaze moves down to her lap, so I reach for her hand across the table.
“I secretly knew you’d been dying to get your hands on this place when Naomi and Matt took over. You hated how mismatched the old décor was.”
She giggles before squeezing my hand. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For everything. I’m not sure where I’d be right now if it wasn’t for you. You keep me sane.”
I let go of her hand and sit back in my chair when the waitress approaches. She places a Corona with a wedge of lime in front of me, and to Jemma she presents a tall glass that contains ice and a dark orange liquid. It’s garnished with a piece of lemon and one of those tiny umbrellas. We both thank her before she turns and leaves.
“Did we order these?” Jemma asks.
“No. We’re here a lot and Naomi knows what we like, so they never bother taking our order.”
She picks up her glass and takes a sip of her drink. “Yum. What is this?”
“Vodka, lemon, lime and bitters.”
“It has alcohol in it?”
“It does.”
“It tastes better than that awful wine Rachel had me drinking the other night.”
“Wine doesn’t exactly agree with you,” I tell her, chuckling. I don’t bother elaborating, because it will only embarrass her. I’ll save that story for another time.
The entrees come out, followed by the mains a while later. “Wow, what is that?” Jem whispers to me across the table when the waitress leaves.
“Lobster mornay. It’s your favourite dish.”
Her head lowers as she studies the shell of the lobster.
“You just eat the lobster meat and sauce inside it,” I reply as I observe her.
A playful smile tugs at her lips as her eyes move back to mine. “Did you seriously think I was going to eat the shell?”
Shrugging my shoulders, I grin as I pick up my beer and take a swig.
Music is playing softly in the background as we talk about everything and nothing, just like we always did. Though so much of our time was spent together, there was always so much to say.
“I feel like I need to go for a run now to burn off some of that food,” she says contentedly.
Running wasn’t the way we had burned off food before the accident, but I already know that’s not how this night will end. Instead, I ask her to dance. Not because I enjoy dancing, but there is nothing I love more than to hold Jemma in my arms.
Her face illuminates with a smile. “Okay.”
Removing the napkin from my lap, I stand and move around to her side of the table to pull out her chair. I can’t take my eyes off the bare skin on her back as I follow her onto the dance floor. It’s driving me crazy. This dress is almost my undoing; I’ve always loved her body.
There’s not a single part of her I don’t love.
Her eyes, her lips, her perfect little nose, her pretty face, her long legs, her dainty hands, her soft skin … I could go on forever. I remember all too well the feeling of her beneath the weight of my fingertips, and the sensation of our naked bodies meshed together, connected as one.
I yearn for that again. Every damn inch .
She comes to a stop in the middle of the dance floor and turns to face me. When I see a nervous smile tug at her lips, I don’t hesitate to pull her into my arms. Her breath hitches and I have to suppress the groan that bubbles in the back of my throat as my hands slide around her waist, coming to rest against her smooth skin.
Her arms encircle my neck, and her body instantly melts into mine. I close my eyes and savour this moment. She feels like home when she’s in my arms.
She begins to sway to the music, and my body can’t help but react to her. I find myself willing my erection to stay down, but I should know by now that I have no control over this. When it comes to her, I never have. I clench my eyes tighter, but it’s no use, there’s no sign of retreat.
Please don’t let her notice .
My eyes spring open when I hear her gasp a few seconds later. Shit, she noticed .
“I apologise,” I whisper burying my face in the crook of her neck. “It’s been so long since I’ve held you like this.”
She tilts her head back as her eyes lock with mine. The sadness I see on her face tugs at my heart. Asking her to dance was a mistake; she’s not ready. I’ve been selfish, but only because I’m desperate.
My arms drop by my side, but as I retreat a step, she reaches out and grabs my wrist, stopping me. “Don’t. It’s okay.” I feel my body relax as she drags me back in. “Oh Braxton,” she says a moment later, burying her face in my chest.
When I hear her muffled giggle, I draw my face back and arch a brow. “Are you laughing at me?”
“No.” But then she loses it. I feel her body convulsing against mine as she no longer tries to hide her amusement. When she snorts, I laugh along with her. “Talk about an awkward first date,” she says, removing one of her arms from around my neck to wipe the tears from her eyes.
“Awkward doesn’t quite cover it,” I mumble.
This moment is like déjà vu, because the same thing happened to us the first time we danced together back in high school. I consider throwing in the Boy Scout torch excuse I used back then, but she won’t get it. I still cringe when I think about that night, but it’s also the moment that propelled our relationship out of the friend zone for good.
“Do you want to sit down?” I ask when the song finishes.
“Not yet. Besides, I don’t think it would be wise if we were to part right now.”
I can still hear the amusement in her voice. The old Jem would have reacted the same way, but things are different now, and I’m constantly scared I’m going to do something that will drive her further away.
“True. Someone could lose an eye,” I reply.
She throws back her head and laughs.
I tighten my grip and let out a contented sigh. “Thanks for coming here with me tonight, Jem. This means so much to me.”
She doesn’t reply, but I’m okay with that. Instead, she rests the side of her face against my erratically beating heart.
The next song finishes, but she holds tight. “One more song.” She’ll get no complaints from me. “I’m enjoying dancing with you.”
“Me too.”
We used to dance like this at home. If there was music playing, I would pull her into my arms, or vice-versa.
I’m taken aback when our song comes on next, and it has me wondering if Naomi is behind this, or if it’s just fate. Either way, I take it as a sign.
‘The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face’ , is the song that was playing on the radio the first time we danced, and it’s also the song we danced to on our wedding day.
It is the perfect song for us. It describes everything I’ve felt from the first time I laid eyes on her, our first kiss, the first time we made love, and everything in between.
Tonight, I’m filled with mixed emotions, and listening to the lyrics is bittersweet. My love for her since the accident hasn’t diminished one bit, but things are very different between us now.
When the last notes of the song play, she lifts her head off my chest and looks up at me, and I’m surprised to see tears cascading down her beautiful face.
“Jem, what’s wrong?”
She releases a nervous laugh before she speaks. “That song … it was so beautiful. Those words touched my heart.”
I smile as I run the pad of my thumb across her cheek. I’m not sure why I don’t tell her that this is our song, but I don’t.
Everything in me wants to kiss her beautiful mouth as she stares up at me with those haunting brown eyes of hers, but instead, I lean forward and simply place my lips on her forehead. It is enough.