SIXTEEN
JACK
“You can stop pretending to pay attention to the movie, you know?” I take a sip of my beer without looking at Paul, who sits next to me on the couch. He joined me at my place for some food and a movie—and to grill me about Emma.
It’s the day after I shared my story with her, and my best friend suggested a long-overdue movie night, totally random of course.
“Excuse me?” Paul asks.
“You keep shifting in your seat and clearing your throat like you want to say something.” I raise a single eyebrow at him. “You’re dying to ask.”
He groans, directing his gaze at the ceiling. “Then spill, you stupid moron. Did you tell her?”
I draw in a deep breath before finishing my drink. I place the glass on the table and turn to face him before straightening my clothes and picking at some non-existent lint. “I did.”
He leans closer, moving his hand in a go-on-gesture. “Care to elaborate?”
I rub my chin. “It sucked. Just as I expected. And what sucked even more was her expression when we talked about Kate. It seemed like it physically pained her that Kate could touch me and she couldn’t.”
“Yeah, that sucks. Did you tell Emma you’re seeing your therapist again? ”
I nod. “And that I was hopeful I would finally get a grip on things. But then she asked me if I slept with Kate. It all went downhill from there.”
His posture stiffens. “You slept with Kate? You never mentioned that.”
“Once.” I grimace. “Big mistake. Drunken mistake too. That was toward the end. She was transferred to Atlanta soon after.”
“Wow, her return makes more sense now. Do you think she wants to pick up where you left off?”
I furrow my brows. “Why would she?”
“I don’t know. She seemed so excited to see you. Even if it’s been what? Two years?”
“Yes, two years,” I confirm. “But we hardly talked, at least for the last year or so.”
He narrows his eyes at me but shakes his head. He apparently decides to drop the topic. “Did you tell Emma about your, um, drinking habits?” he asks instead.
“My drinking habits?” I squint at him. “You mean how I get wasted to fuck some girl? Yes, I told her. And I’ve never felt more embarrassed and remorseful in my entire life.” With a groan, I run my hand over my face.
“Maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe that’ll give you a new impetus to change. How are your therapy sessions going?”
“Not sure. I only had two so far. It’s good to talk about things again. And ever since I’ve met Emma, I am more hopeful I’ve finally found my motivation. She stirred something in me. You know, when I watched her lick that fucking popsicle …” I take a deep breath when memories of that moment return from the corner of my mind I banned them to. “That was the first time since Au drey that I had a physical reaction to a woman while being sober. I did wonder if my dick was broken because it only works when I’m drunk. But watching Emma—that went straight to my groin.”
Paul holds up his hands. “Okay, enough information. I get it. You want her. Even though she’s pregnant?”
“I don’t care about that. I can’t explain what this is. I want to be with her, and if that includes a baby, then so be it.”
“But what about all that just-friends-crap?”
I snort. “That’s no crap. I can’t ask her to be my girlfriend but tell her she can’t touch me.”
Paul bursts out laughing. “Ask her to be your girlfriend? How old are you? Twelve?”
I roll my eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. I’m-gonna-harass-her-until-she-sleeps-with-me. Poor Tessa only put out because you wouldn’t leave her alone.”
Paul shoves my shoulder. “That’s not what happened at all, you stupid jerk. At least I didn’t lie to her by telling her I wanted to be just friends while secretly lusting after her.”
“Yeah, whatever.” I wave him off and rise from the couch to get more drinks.
“So when are you seeing your new friend again?” Paul calls after me.
Luckily, he can’t see me—how my lips stretch into a silly grin when I tell him, “I’m meeting her after work tomorrow.”
The next day, that silly grin doesn’t leave my face. My colleagues give me weird looks when they see me, but I don’t care. I can’t wait to finish work so I can go to Emma’s place to pick her up for an early dinner. And when I approach her door and she stands in front of me with the cutest smile, my heart skips a few beats. She looks stunning in jeans and a light yellow top that matches her beaming smile.
My gaze wanders down her body and lingers on the hint of a bump. She wore a loose-fitting shirt when I took her to Lucy’s birthday, so I didn’t realize there was one already. But the top she wears today clings to her curves, displaying a tiny baby belly. And damn, if that doesn’t make me feel the strangest things.
She notices me staring and follows my gaze. She gasps and places a hand on her belly. “Oh, fuck. I should have put on a different shirt. This makes me look so fat.” With a low grumble, she steps aside to let me enter.
I hate the frown on her forehead. “Shut up,” I scold. “You look gorgeous.” I narrow my eyes at her when she flicks her gaze to the ceiling. “You do! Hey, Peach.” I smile at her, and she returns it, making my heart skip another damn beat.
“Are we not done with that name yet?” she asks.
“Nope. That’ll stick.”
“Okay then. I guess it could be worse. And hi.” She leads the way into the kitchen. “I’ll get you a drink while you wait. I’m not ready yet.” She turns her head back to look at me. “I need to change shirts.”
“Don’t you dare,” I say as I sit at her kitchen table .
She places a bottle of water and a glass in front of me when her phone rings. As it’s right there on the table, my eyes shoot to the screen. It’s a call from her mom. I lift my gaze to meet hers and frown when she crinkles her nose.
“Shit, not what I need now.” She slumps down on the chair next to me with a deep sigh. She fidgets left and right before answering the call by putting her mother on speaker. I furrow my brows, but she buries her face in her hands when she says, “Hey, Mom. How are you?”
“Emma, sweetheart! I’m glad I caught you.”
After what Emma told me about her mother, a shiver runs down my spine when I hear that woman’s voice. There’s no warmth, nothing that would give her away as Emma’s mother.
Emma keeps her face buried in her hands. “Why? What’s going on?”
“I’m still waiting for your answer on the job offer I told you about.”
“Mom, my answer is no. I won’t accept that offer.”
Emma’s mother sighs, and I frown at the annoyance she radiates even through the phone. “Emma, you’re testing my patience. You can’t refuse if you haven’t talked to him or seen the clinic.”
“Yes, I can. And I will. I am not taking this job.”
“Sweetie, you have an interview with that doctor on Friday. I’ve already booked a flight for you,” she says in a sweet voice.
“YOU WHAT?” Emma smacks her hands flat on the table, and I flinch. She inhales slowly, keeping her eyes shut. “You have no fucking business meddling in my life like this! ”
“Emma! Language, please!” Her mother sounds just as angry. “I’ll text you the flight details, and I hope to see you on Friday.” When she goes on, her sweet voice is back. “It would make your dad so happy.”
Wow, what a manipulative woman! Emma stares at me wide-eyed and points to her phone, mouthing, “See what I mean?”
“Yes, Mom, I know,” Emma says. “I will still refuse.”
Her mother lets out a long breath. “You have until Friday to decide.” After a brief silence, she adds, “Oh, and I met a nice young man at this dinner party last weekend. A very handsome guy. He’s thirty-four and a lawyer.”
I blink at Emma. What is she getting at? Emma grimaces and squeezes her eyes shut. “Mom, please tell me you didn’t.”
“I gave him your number; he might call you sometime.”
Emma grumbles. “Are you serious? What the—”
“It’s time that you—”
“No, Mom! Enough! It’s time for you to stop meddling in my life. I’m hanging up now. I can’t talk to you any longer. Bye, Mom.” And without waiting for a response, she ends the call. She stares at her phone, taking slow breaths.
“Emma,” I whisper after a minute of watching her. That’s when it hits me: I want to comfort her. I want to take her in my arms and tell her it’s all right. I want to stroke her hair and kiss her forehead.
Out of its own accord, my hand inches closer to hers until I place it on top. This time, the contact makes her flinch, and she jumps up with a frustrated groan. She strides to the sink, grabs the dishcloth, and frantically wipes the countertop.
I walk over and watch her clean a spot that’s not there, rubbing the surface repeatedly. She draws in a ragged breath as she blinks away the tears in her eyes. I take the cloth from her hand, lay it aside, and turn Emma to me. “Hey, shh, it’s all right,” I say in a low voice, wrapping my arms around her and pressing her against my chest. She covers her face with her hands and sobs. Her entire body shakes now that she lets the tears fall. I rub up and down her back in what I at least hope is a soothing manner.
I close my eyes and inhale and exhale deeply. And even though my heartbeat accelerates, it doesn’t feel like usual. Only slowly, my body tenses up, but what’s most important, Emma doesn’t seem to notice my growing unease.
Another minute or two passes, and she relaxes until I loosen the embrace another minute later and step back. Emma wipes the tears away that stream down her face and looks up at me. And for a few moments, we stare at each other. The sense of unease vanishes, but my heart still beats faster than it should.
Emma’s lips lift in a small smile. “Thank you. See? That’s what I was talking about when I told you about my mother,” she says as she sits back at the kitchen table.
“Yeah, you weren’t kidding.” I join her, fill the glass she put on the table for me earlier, and hand it to her. “Here, drink.”
She gratefully accepts and takes a few sips. “My mom thinks I’m a failure,” she says. “With my dad being a surgeon and my brother studying medicine, she’s disappointed I’m just a nurse—and unmarried at that. Single even.” She watches a little drop of water run down the glass before wiping it away. With a sigh, she continues, “Have I told you that my brother is gay?” She lifts her gaze to meet mine.
“No, you haven’t. Wow, that must have been a shock to your mom.”
Emma snorts. “Yeah, big shock, but then she realized that having a gay son brought her many sympathy points from her so-called friends. Poor woman! Imagine that: he might never provide her with grandchildren. Me, on the other hand—I still refuse to settle down, find myself a wealthy man, and have lots of babies.” She leans back in her chair and places her hands on her belly. “Poor peanut. My mom is gonna go ballistic when she finds out.”
I chuckle, and she narrows her eyes at me. I raise my eyebrows at her. “Peanut?”
She shrugs but smiles. “Yeah, I kinda started to call him that. Or her. But I think it’s a boy.” She strokes her belly again, which makes me feel a little fuzzy.
Damn, I need to snap out of this. Thoughts of playing happy family cross my mind, and that needs to stop. We’re friends. And friends only.
“Come on,” I say as I rise from the chair. “Let’s have dinner and the best dessert in the world to cheer you up.”