by Kendall Ryan
She considered this, then pushed her plate away. “I’m not hungry.”
“Don’t be stubborn,” I said. “You need to eat.”
“I don’t like ahi tuna salad,” she said, glaring at the plate.
“Have you had it before?”
“I don’t eat raw fish.”
“Right.” I cleared my throat. “It’s seared, so not totally raw. Try it.”
“No.” She met my gaze, a gleam of defiance in her eyes.
“Then I’ll ask if they can bring you something else,” I said between gritted teeth.
“We’re ten thousand feet in the air. Where do you think they’re going to find something else?”
Letting out a deep breath, I reminded myself to stay calm. “Fine, then we’ll land the damn plane and find a Taco Bell.”
She pursed her lips. “You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.”
“I’d love to. But I don’t eat Taco Bell either. It’s gross.”
Unable to help myself, I barked out a laugh.
That, as it happened, was the wrong move. She glared at me, snatching her wineglass from the table and taking an angry gulp before facing me down with a warning glare.
“At least let me ask the attendant what else they have.”
“Fine,” she muttered, taking another sip of her wine.
Folding my cloth napkin, I rose from my seat and ventured to the front of the cabin.
“Is everything okay, sir?”
“Yes, it’s fine. But my . . .” My what? Girlfriend? That didn’t seem right. Emma had once agreed to be my person, but I didn’t know if that still stood. “My companion doesn’t like the fish. Would you be kind enough to remove her plate and bring her something else?”
“Of course, sir. Right away. We don’t have any other entrée options, but we have yogurt and granola, fruit, and some snacks.”
“Bring everything you have. She’ll select what she likes.”
The attendant nodded and got to work. By the time I slid back into the wide leather seat across from Emma, the attendant was stopping her cart beside us again, offering Emma a variety of choices.
It amused me to watch Emma select a bottle of water and a bright yellow package of peanut candies. When the attendant was gone, Emma tore into the bag and popped a few candies into her mouth.
“Happy now?” she asked as she chewed.
“Yes, pet.” I took a bite of my own food, continuing to study her. I didn’t comment on the fact that the altitude and sugar would probably make her feel sluggish later. At least she was eating.
“Enough stalling, Gavin. Start talking, or the second we get there, I turn around and go back.”
I nodded. “Fine. It’s a little hard to know where to start.”
“The beginning is usually good,” she said, not without a touch of sarcasm.
I took a sip of my wine and gave in. “All right. Ashley was an agency girl, which I know Cooper told you. She came to us just off of her farewell tour with the New York Ballet Company, and she was, well, she was my type. Slender, dark-haired, and graceful. She was slightly curvier than your average ballerina, but knowing you, I’m sure you saw her picture.”
Emma stiffened for a moment, then nodded.
“I took her to the Met Gala with me. It was our first date and I thought, well, I assumed a girl like her, so young and having grown up so poor, wouldn’t really fit in at a place so fancy, but she quickly proved me wrong. She was the most radiant woman in the room that night, and when she took to the dance floor, she was like no woman I’d ever seen before. She was . . . she was always like that. She fit in every place she went, and she encouraged me to try to do the same thing. At a ballpark, she was one of the loudest people rooting for a team she’d never heard of until she’d gotten to the field. At an opera, she wept for the dying lovers, even though she didn’t know what they were saying. She was truly a special girl.”
Emma glanced away, but I could see the hurt in her eyes. I wanted to add that Ashley had a dark side that had eventually stolen her shine. And Emma? She meant the world to me. There was no comparison between them. But I knew any mention of our relationship when she wanted to pretend we no longer had one would only add fuel to the fire, so I remained silent, waiting for Emma to come to terms with what she’d heard so far.
She set her candy down with shaking hands and took a sip of water. Finally, she nodded. “Go on.”
“Anyway, Ashley loved life, and the same energy she’d put into dancing she essentially transferred to her relationship with me. She was young too, and it showed. At twenty-two, she was eight years younger than me, but there was something about her that made me not care.”
Emma shifted in her seat but remained silent. She refused to meet my gaze but I stared at her, studying her expression the whole time I spoke. The pain, the conflict, the curiosity, I saw it all, and knew the only way to make it better was to press on.
“So, with her youth came a lot of immaturities. She was jealous, even of the women I worked with. She was suspicious of my previous assistant, and absolutely hated Sonja. She was dramatic too. When she was angry, she would make it her personal mission to make sure everyone else was miserable too. Still, she was the breath of fresh air I needed at a time when I was working eighty- to ninety-hour weeks while our business grew. I’d gone on that way nonstop for three years, and when Ashley came around, it felt like a sign. I was thirty and it was time to settle down.”
“Were you in love with her?” Emma asked quietly.
I shook my head. “There was a time when I thought I was, but looking back, no. It never got that far, but I did love her. In my own way.”
“And you pursued me, why? Because I looked like her?”
I bit the inside of my cheek. I’d dreaded this question, but I knew I had to answer it honestly or Emma would trust nothing else I told her. “Yes, at first. I was intrigued. I have a very specific type that Ashley—and you—fit.”
“I see,” Emma said softly, leaving me to wonder how she felt.
“The truth is the first time I saw you, I could hardly breathe—hardly think—hardly move. It’s a wonder how I approached the counter and ordered my espresso.”
Emma blinked at me, waiting, wanting more. I pushed my plate away and leaned closer to her.
“I battled with myself, wanting you from the very first moment. Holy fuck, did I want you. But after everything I’d been through—the suffocating grief, the condemnation, the fucking media circus—I just couldn’t do it again. I didn’t know if I’d make it through all that again. And I imagined, maybe you were just like her. Maybe all of my relationships with women were meant to end in death and destruction—like my mother and then my first serious girlfriend. It was better to stay away. But, of course, that was easier said than done.”
The flight attendant chose that moment to come back. She removed my plate and refilled my empty wineglass before swishing away again, leaving us alone in the pressure-filled cabin to navigate this shaky new existence.
Emma lifted her eyes to mine, waiting for me to continue.
“But the honest truth is, you and she are two very different people. She was troubled, and difficult at times. Stubborn, immature. But you’re independent and strong. Sure of yourself. And also, not. Also seeking. Just like me.”
Emma looked down, wringing her hands in her lap. I was laying myself bare, and though I hadn’t told her everything yet, I prayed that by giving her all this history, she’d see the real me. Hopefully, she’d see through the fucked-up layers that blanketed my soul, and maybe she’d accept that what happened to Ashley had been an unfortunate accident.
“Then one day I just decided, fuck it. You hadn’t found another coffee shop, hadn’t changed your routine in all those months, and I was weak, ready to throw caution to the wind. I wanted to see where this could lead. But instead of asking you out, instead of introducing myself and sitting down to talk, I decided to test you. That’s what the business card was, you know? A test.�
�
At this, her head snapped up and she held my gaze. “Did I pass?”
“Beautifully. I never imagined you’d come into the office like that. So brave, my little pet. So . . . everything.”
Emma flinched as I leaned forward to touch her, causing me to draw my hand away.
“Are you okay?”
She nodded, but I could see a new sheen in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. Damn it.
“Emma, look—”
“It’s all right. I’m finding that the altitude is making me feel a little unwell.” She stood and turned away, hiding her face from me with a sniffle. “I’m going to splash some water on my face, and we can continue this when we get to Florida.”
When she was gone, I swirled the wine in my glass wistfully. I’d known no good could come of this conversation. To me, Ashley was all tragedy and heartbreak. The best things about her, the memories of us laughing or joking around, had faded over time. And in truth? I found them just as bitter as the rest of it now.
Still, I didn’t want to mar the memory of a good person by sharing too many details of her disease. The way the drugs had taken hold of her; the way she’d lied and cheated toward the end. And the way things had eventually ended.
Still, if not telling might cost me Emma? I had no choice. Hopefully, what I’d shared today had been enough for both of us.
A short time later, Emma rejoined me, her eyes watery but clear.
“Thank you for taking the chance and coming with me,” I said sincerely.
She gave me a shaky nod. “What’s on the agenda for this trip?”
I released the breath that had been pinned in my chest as I realized she’d been left as raw from our conversation as I had, and had decided to put a pin in it.
“The usual, really.” I shrugged. “It’s a golf outing with dinner and a cocktail hour. Did you bring along clothes for that kind of thing?”
She nodded again and then went quiet.
For the rest of the plane ride, there was an Ashley-sized wedge between us that was as tangible as if she were sitting right here. As much as I welcomed the reprieve, there was no doubt.
Eventually, it was all going to come out.
And the only question that remained was whether Emma’s feelings for me would survive it.
Chapter Four
Emma
Talk about a bumpy landing.
Not the pilot. He did his job perfectly, lowering the jet so smoothly onto the airstrip, I didn’t notice we had landed until I saw palm trees out my window. Gavin and me, on the other hand? Things between us were so rocky, I didn’t know if there would ever be smooth sailing again.
We spent most of the limo ride in silence. Gavin had opened up on the jet about his relationship with Ashley, but I still had a lot of questions. I’d been down the abusive-relationship road before, and no matter how much I cared about Gavin, there was no way I would let myself get hurt like that again.
When we arrived at the hotel, the limo driver opened my door, and I was instantly struck by the soft salty smell of the warm beach air. Just being outside felt like a dip in the ocean, and I couldn’t wait to clear my head by the water. When I stepped out of the limo, I had to bite my lip to keep from gasping out loud.
This hotel was like something out of a movie.
Since I started seeing Gavin, I thought I was getting used to seeing how the other half lived. But this place? It was unreal, the kind of hotel where celebrities and wealthy politicians stayed.
The doorman greeted us and held the huge swinging door open as we entered the most gorgeous lobby I’d ever seen. Glossy marble floors stretched out in front of us, and a row of gold-tiled columns led us to the front desk. A massive three-tiered floral arrangement stood in the center of the lobby, with more flowers in it than I could count. The backdrop of the lobby featured floor-to-ceiling windows that showcased the pristine beach just a short walk away. I couldn’t tell if it was the flowers or the view, but I was starting to feel a little light-headed.
At the front desk, the attendant gave Gavin our room keys, and the bellhop piled our luggage onto a cart. We rode the elevator up sixteen floors before the doors opened with a loud ding. The bellhop led us down a short hallway before pausing briefly in front of our door after he opened it.
“Welcome to your oceanfront suite,” the bellhop said, gesturing for us to enter.
Gavin motioned for me to go ahead, his fingertips brushing the small of my back as I passed before quickly pulling back as he caught himself and fisted his hands at his sides. The first room we walked into had a plush white linen sofa on one wall, a flat-screen TV on the other, and a large driftwood-and-glass coffee table in the middle. The wall directly across from us featured floor-to-ceiling windows, giving us the perfect view of miles and miles of clear blue ocean.
I could already tell that it would be hard not to get swept away in the beauty of this place.
After the bellhop dropped our luggage in the doorway, Gavin slipped him a twenty and shut the door behind him.
“Would you like the grand tour?” he asked coolly.
I didn’t miss the hint of frustration in his voice, but could tell that he was trying to be civil.
“Why not?” I said, doing my best to hide the excitement in my voice. Even if things between us were icy, I was eager to see what the rest of the suite looked like.
The sleek kitchenette easily put my full-sized kitchen to shame with its white cabinetry, marble countertops, and state-of-the-art appliances. Gavin led me past the breakfast nook, down a small hallway, and into the first bathroom, which had a large standing tub and a sandy-beige tiled shower with a waterfall showerhead. It was all so perfect, I could only imagine how much one night in this suite cost.
And then there were the bedrooms. Thank God there were two.
The first we entered had plush pale blue pillows lining the headboard of the white king-sized bed. A vase of white lilies adorned the bedside table, and a modern light fixture hung over the bed. It was the only decoration, though, because the wall opposite the bed had even more floor-to-ceiling windows, flooding the room with the warmth of natural light. This suite gave a whole new meaning to the term “oceanfront.”
“You can have this room,” Gavin said, running his fingers over the crisp white comforter. “I assume you’d prefer more time to yourself to think things over.” He turned to face me, the sunlight hitting his hazel eyes just right so they were almost glowing.
It took everything in me not to melt right then and there. We could sleep together without sleeping together, couldn’t we?
When I didn’t respond, he ventured a step closer and slipped his arm around my waist.
“Or you could stay with me,” he murmured.
His crisp, masculine scent washed over me, and a thousand memories of our time together before flooded through my brain. Tangled sweaty limbs, and murmured filthy words.
No. No, we could not.
I ignored the slight weakness in my knees and shook my head. “I don’t think I’m ready to spend the night with you again.” Not yet, at least. “I still have so many questions,” I said, pulling away from his embrace.
Gavin stepped back, his jaw clenching. “I’m going to get some work done. Dinner’s at seven. Until then, I’ll leave you with your questions.” With that, he quickly left the room.
I sighed and flopped down on the bed, relishing in how perfectly it formed to my body.
This trip would be a lot harder than I thought.
• • •
At dinner, I decided to ask Gavin my questions after our main course was served. By that point, he’d already have plenty of bourbon and lobster in him, and I hoped that would make him more open to sharing. I could tell my need to know was getting on his nerves. Part of me felt bad to be doubting him this way, but another part of me was frustrated. If he couldn’t answer my questions, I might never really trust him again.
I took a sip of my sparkling water, cursing myself
for saying no to that glass of wine. Sure, I wanted to keep a clear head for this conversation, but a nice glass of rosé would really take the edge off.
Before I could speak, Gavin cleared his throat, his hazel eyes piercing right through me. “Are you planning on waiting until dessert?”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “No. And I wasn’t planning on this being a fight either.”
He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I know what I’ve told you so far has left you unsatisfied.”
“I’m not trying to grill you, Gavin, I’m just trying to understand what happened.” My voice rose a little at the end as my heart pounded. I was nervous—no, I was scared. So far, he’d told me all about Ashley and their relationship, but nothing about her death.
“I know, pet,” he said, holding his hand out in the middle of the table. “Be patient with me.”
I stared at his hand for a moment, conscious of the meaning behind the gesture.
He never used that nickname during idle conversation, and I knew he was trying to be reassuring. The gesture was sweet.
Did I trust him yet? Not by a long shot. But there was only one way to let him try to earn it back.
I placed my hand in his and gave it a soft squeeze. Gavin stared deep into my eyes, running his thumb over my knuckles. He squeezed my hand in return before pulling away, then rolled his shoulders back and placed his hands in his lap.
“I’m trying to be patient. So, it sounds like you and Ashley had some similarities in how you were raised.” I hoped restarting where we’d left off would get him talking again.
He nodded. “Ashley was a foster kid. She bounced from home to home for most of her childhood, only being adopted later in her teenage years. It wasn’t an easy life, but she was tough. Dancing got her through the hard parts. Up-and-coming dancers don’t make a lot of money, though, so she came to me at nineteen asking to be an escort. I was reluctant at first because of her age, but she was persistent, and I knew that if we didn’t take her in, someone else far more dangerous would.”
I thought of Gavin’s mother, and the look on his face when he showed me the neighborhood where he grew up. I could see why he became attached to Ashley.
