Chapter 30
JACK
Housekeeping isn’t a part of my skillset. In fact, it’s one of the few things I refuse to do. I have a competent housekeeper who comes to my house every weekday for two hours. However, for the past week, I’ve been helping Emmeline with all her chores.
“You surprise me, lady,” I say.
“Because I’m letting you fold my sheets on a Sunday?” She cocks an eyebrow and smirks. “You’re easy to please.”
“Do you want to please me?”
She smiles and shakes her head. “Maybe soon, I promise you won’t regret waiting.”
“Somehow I think you like kink.”
Em looks at me, as if considering what I just said. Smirking slightly, she says, “It all depends what you define as kink.”
Anticipation shines in her eyes, but I don’t leap into action.
I wait because Emmeline Lancaster thinks a lot before she acts.
Her moves, her words, her actions might look spontaneous, but once I got to know her, I realized that she just thinks fast. Her IQ must be super high because she processes faster than a computer.
What might seem like a quick plan of action, is a structured strategy.
“Well, there are things I haven’t tried, because you can’t try them with just anyone.”
I swallow hard and nod as if understanding.
“So, you haven’t performed oral on yourself?” I say.
I try to sound casual and funny, but my voice is grave and fucking desperate.
“Ha, I think only guys can do that.” Her gaze moves from the shirt she’s folding to me. “Can you do it?”
“I have to confess that I’ve never tried,” I answer honestly. “I must tell you, this is the first time I’ve discussed sex while folding t-shirts.”
“Sexy, right?” She asks with a laugh. “To be honest. I’ve never tried oral or anal sex or bondage. But I do want to try them all.”
I swallow hard, staring at her. Bless her heart, I want all of those things too. Vivian was too conservative to let me do oral, and I never dared to ask for anal.
“Or you know, you can mention them as if we’re writing down the shopping list,” I say casually.
Like a caveman, I want to drag her to her room and give her all three. I’m ready to try everything and anything with her.
“Sorry, see this tells you how unprepared I am for the next step,” she explains. “It should come easily. But I’m overthinking it. Do I want to take that step or should I be asking you for your medical record?”
“Whoa, why?” Warning flashes suddenly appear.
She’d figure out who I am and might not give me the chance to pull up my pants before kicking me out of her house—and her life.
Tell her who you are right now. I have to wait, only twelve days.
“See, that’s scary. We’re two consenting adults. I’ve always used condoms, but I want to do so much more with you. Is that normal? Did you use condoms with your wife?”
I nod and my focus on sex shifts to my fucked-up relationship with Vivian. Why is she bringing up my ex-wife? In only seconds, it dawns on me.
“How often do you compare yourself to her?”
She touches her chest with the tip of her finger.
“Yes, you. I know you, Em. This analysis is going too fucking deep, isn’t it?” I stifle a heavy breath and gaze at her face, her eyes open wide.
“Who fucked you up?” I question. “Was it a boyfriend or some guy you had a big crush on?”
“What makes you think that?”
“Not everything has to be perfect, Emmeline,” I say because now I’m feeling as if we’re both failing because of her need for everything to be just right.
She holds her head and shakes it. “I know, but when your parents only give you the time of day when you’re perfect, and you have to work hard to get love, it’s easy to second guess yourself.
If you’re wondering, no, I’m not ready to have sex with you.
It’s taken me a lot to let you in this far. Which is already a big step for me.”
I got it. Until she’s sure that I love her, she won’t open herself up, and it isn’t just about sex.
“Let’s cut the sex talk, babe,” I suggest.
She nods a couple of times, and her face falls for a few seconds, but the sad expression disappears quickly.
Monday, May 30th, 7:03 p.m.
“You cook more than breakfast,” Emmeline says surprised as she tastes the broccoli beef rice bowl, I cooked for her.
“You keep on surprising me,” she says. “First laundry, then cooking.”
“And dealing with your catwalk,” I remind her.
She grimaces slightly. “Ramen wasn’t very happy about it, was she?”
“I don’t think cats enjoy evening walks like dogs do,” I explain to her as I sit right beside her and take a bite of my own creation.
Unintentionally, I moan.
“It’s fantastic, isn’t it?” she asks.
She takes another mouthful of rice and beef. “If you are in the mood to cook, just come over. I’ll be your taste tester.”
A slight smile tugs on the corner of her lips. “Some days I prefer to be at home with you. Please, don’t get me wrong. I enjoy our dates and love that you put so much thought into them but having you all to myself is the best.”
She has no idea how much this means to me.
I spent years believing that I was fucked-up and that it wasn’t worth it to look into having another relationship.
She makes me believe I’m not a lost cause.
The shadow of a man I became after my divorce is gone.
I can trust people again. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed like I do when I’m with Emmeline.
The best laugh I’ve had in weeks happened earlier today while we tried to walk her cats.
“Do you always walk around the neighborhood singing and dancing like you did earlier?” I ask.
“You’re just mocking me because you don’t know that song. Everyone knows it but you.”
“That’s an ancient song, isn’t it?” I rise and go to the fridge for a beer. “Want one, babe?”
“Nah, I’m drinking water today,” she smiles and continues eating.
“Where did you learn it?” I ask her.
“I used it for one of my gymnastic recitals. I was about nine. Mom almost killed me,” she laughs. “Perfect Emmeline danced to I’m Too Sexy in front of her friends, who she brought to show her amazing form and skill.”
“Do you have a sister?” I can’t remember if she mentioned that as Amy or Emmeline, I’m seriously losing track of everything that’s been said on the chat verses in-person.
She twists her mouth, closes her eyes briefly, takes some deep breaths and speaks slowly. “I think it’s too early to talk about my sister.”
“Hey, take your time. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here when you’re ready to talk about her or anything else,” I say. I’m trying not to sound desperate but hoping we can rush things a little.
“We should talk about you, put you in the hot seat.” She gives me a lopsided smile, but I don’t like where this is going. “What’s your last name?
“Are we finally exchanging last names?” I ask stalling and even faking excitement. “For a second, you had me worried. What if you were trying to kidnap me or … use me as your sex slave. But I’m not sure we are as ready as you think. Are you ready to know my last name?”
She glares at me and rolls her eyes. “You think you’re funny, don’t you?”
“Yes and no,” I respond, kissing her on the nose.
“What does that mean?”
“Well, just the other day I was talking to Jason,” I explain. “Remember him?”
“Yes, your brother. He’s back in town?”
I nod. “Yes, he got a job.”
Technically, it’s not a lie. He’s working for me full time.
“That’s great, right, having family close by?”
“Either that or we’ll end up killing each other. Hopefully, the strongest will survive.” I hit my chest a couple of times Tarzan style. “That would be me.”
“You’re so funny. What does Jason have to do with my last name?”
“Well, I was telling him how blinded by your beauty I was. I mean not just your beauty, but your brilliance too. How I enjoyed talking to you for hours, but I never asked you for your last name. How crazy is that?”
“Exactly,” she answers animated. “You understand how I feel. It’s not about sharing a last name or status, but about the emotions and experiences.
I must tell you, your brother isn’t the only one who’s concerned about this last name exchange.
My best friend chided me the other day for the exact same thing, right after she begged me to help her husband find a job.
It was between ‘please help my husband find a job, and I am dating a guy, I think.’”
“Your friend needs a job?” I ask, finding the subject that’s going to bail me out of this fucking mess.
She sighs. “I’ve been trying to get him interviews everywhere. It’s so hard to find him a match. There’s nothing available in Boston that fits his qualifications and salary requirements.”
“Would he consider relocating?”
She exhales loudly and rests her forehead on the table.
“The companies that want to hire him won’t pay for relocation and want a three month trial before they give him a permanent position. What if it’s a bust?”
“I take it he can’t afford relocating?” I assume.
“They can't, but I’ve offered to pay for it. For now, the only help they’ve accepted is a few part-time jobs as assistants. They can only live off of that for so long. And of course, they can’t relocate, they just had a baby and with all of the expenses a newborn and a new house brings…”
“What does he do?” I fake ignorance.
“I’d have to send you his resume. I have a client who could hire him, but I’m not asking for personal favors,” she says determinedly.
“Why don’t you send me his resume?” I offer. She stares at me questioningly.
“I have friends who work as headhunters and others who own telecommunication companies, and I don’t know, maybe I can find him something.”
She picks up her phone and taps it really fast, then turns her head to me and says, “What's your email address?”
Fuck!
“Jack23@.” I use the address I had back in middle school which I’m almost sure doesn’t have my last name, and I hope I can remember the fucking password.
“Seriously, your email is jack twenty-three at mail dot com?” she asks.
“Yes, that’s my personal email. I would give you the company’s email, but I try not to use that email for personal things. You know how things get complicated.”
“I totally understand,” she offers. “I do the same.”
She taps a few keys and says, “sent.”
“Thank you.” She kisses my cheek lightly.
“Hey, I haven’t done anything. I’ll send it to my headhunter friends and see what they can find. That’s all I can do for now if that’s okay with you.”
“It’s perfect. It’s all anyone can do right now, but maybe you’ll have better luck than me, right?”
I squeeze her hand reassuringly, trying to erase that big frown on her forehead and the worry in her eyes. This situation with her friends is wearing her down.