Take Hold of Me

by Arell Rivers

  “So, you’re with W?”

  Taking a sip of the refreshing smoothie—much better than the champagne offered at the art gallery—I puff up, remembering Wills introducing me as his girlfriend. “Yes. I am very lucky.”

  “From my vantage point, you got that backwards.”

  I shake my head. “You met Wills when he was guarding Cole, right?”

  “Yup.” He leans over to me. “I whipped his butt into shape, so you can thank me now.”

  I laugh. He is a good guy. I am so happy Wills has Zak in his life. Once we finish our smoothies, I ask him to finish up my tour of Complete.

  We walk across the gym to the far side of the building, which has a series of smaller rooms. Zak points to a set of five doors. “That’s for classes like Zumba, yoga, spin, that sort of thing.” He points to another set of doors. “Acupuncture, massage and nutrition classes go on in there.”

  “Wow. That is very impressive. Not many gyms offer these choices.”

  “Wills and I were talking about adding on other professionals, like physical therapists. You know, to live up to the name ‘Complete.’”

  “Very interesting.”

  We wander into an empty room, set up classroom style, with a chalkboard. Zak heads over it, picks up a piece of chalk and starts to doodle. From my seat, I try to figure out what it is.

  Seeing my expression, he drops the chalk. “I’m a personal trainer, not an artist. Sue me.”

  Zak is an open book. I bet he can give me some insights into Wills that he would not tell me himself. “So, you are going to be working closely with Wills here at Complete?”

  He claps and chalk dust flies through the air. “Yeah. I’m really looking forward to the challenge. I was honored when Wills asked me to join him. You know, he was always pretty quiet, but after his partners were killed, he practically shut down.”

  “It has been rough on him.”

  He sits next to me. “I think Complete will help him heal. Even though I’ve just met them, I can tell the members and staff here are great.”

  I nod. “Everyone seems very friendly.”

  His face turns serious and his tone changes. “I know you’re used to jetting off at a moment’s notice and all, but Wills takes his responsibilities here seriously. If you’re only looking to add him to your port of call, then do us all a big favor and drop him now. He’s been through enough.”

  My muscles turn rigid and I sit up straighter in my seat. Looking Zak directly in the eye, I say, “I am not like that.”

  “Good. I thought I had you pegged correctly. Just had to be sure.”

  Our conversation is cut short when Wills breezes into the room with David and checks out the chalkboard. “What are you up to in here?” He squints. “What is that?”

  Zak smiles. “You don’t recognize your girlfriend?”

  “Looks like one of those Rorschach tests to me. Stick with the personal training.” Wills arrives at my side.

  David shakes his head. “Do you like our little classrooms, Emilie?”

  Silently rejoicing that Wills has loyal people in his corner, I reply, “Oui, very much. You have been very inventive here, David.”

  His throat bobs like he swallowed hard. My heart goes out to him for having lost his wife. I cannot imagine living without Wills, and we have only just started dating. “We came to get you two. There’s a cake out front.”

  Leaving the classroom, we return to the reception area. All of the people gathered take photos of Wills. Not me for once. It feels good.

  The members clamor to welcome Wills to the gym, but I can tell his smile is forced. The more they circle around us and wish us well, the more introverted he becomes.

  A chant goes up. “Speech! Speech!”

  Wills runs his hand through his hair, his eyes going all around the room, ending on mine. I whisper, “They want to hear from you. Speak from your heart.” And because he looks so uncomfortable, I add, “It does not have to be long.”

  He raises his hands to quiet the crowd down. “I didn’t prepare any speech, and I’m not good at it. I just want to say it’s been a pleasure meeting you and I’m looking forward to continuing what my sister and her husband started. To make sure Complete provides you with the best options for you to become your best self.”

  The group claps as Wills steps back. Laura rolls out a large sheet cake and hands Wills the knife. Before he makes the first cut, David interjects, “One-hundred push-ups for every piece!”

  Laughter follows his remark, but once the cake is consumed, people start dropping and doing push-ups. Impressive.

  As the party winds down, Wills takes the opportunity to make our exit, as smoothly and silently as we walked in. He is quiet on the drive back to his flat.

  “I really loved Complete, Wills. Everyone was so warm and friendly. And they listened to David and paid for their cake with push-ups. That was pretty amazing.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Zak is cute. He made me laugh, and I can tell he is good at his job. You have a wonderful team.”

  “Sorry I couldn’t spend more time with you in there.”

  Maybe this is the reason he is so quiet. “Oh, I understand. I had fun.”

  He turns toward his apartment complex. I am unsure of the cause of his silence, but I hope I did not cause it. “Again, I am sorry I made us late for your party.” Monday. Monday I will have a long talk with my attorney. I will make my friends and loved ones a priority.

  He waves his hand off the steering wheel. “The party waited for us.”

  Wills parks his Jeep in his designated spot and helps me out of the vehicle, walking across the parking lot with his hand on my lower back. “Talk to me. What is wrong?”

  He says, “Nothing’s wrong.”

  The increasing pressure on my lower back, though, tells me just the opposite.

  20

  Wills

  It’s dark outside when I startle awake, a naked Angel at my side. Her breathing remains even, so at least I didn’t intrude on her sleep this time. Easing my arm out from under her, I pull on a pair of shorts, wipe the sweat from my brow and head for the kitchen where I do a healthy pour of whiskey. After taking a fortifying swallow, savoring the burn as it slides down my throat, I pad onto the balcony.

  Below, the pool is lit but the other apartments are dark. Shunting the nightmare into a dark corner, my mind wanders back to the party last night. Everyone at Complete was trying so hard. It was just—trying. So many people, all of whom shared their stories about Three. I know they wanted to connect with me through her, but it was too much. By the time I got back to the apartment, I had shut down. And then there was Emilie.

  My light.

  She always looks on the bright side.

  The eternal optimist to my reclusive side.

  I probably shouldn’t have been so dominant with her, but I had to reassert some sort of control after that fucked-up party. My mouth quirks, remembering the way her accent became more pronounced when she begged me for release, and I take another hit of the whiskey. She’s an amazing woman who tames the worst in me.

  I shouldn’t have called her my girlfriend even though I know the term made her night. My nightmare proves to me, again, that I don’t deserve her. But I can’t let her go.

  I finish off my whiskey and return to the kitchen for a refill. When it’s gone, the warmth eases my chest like when I’m playing with the pups at Vets for Military Dogs, so it should be okay to go back to sleep. I’ve been so caught up in Emilie’s schedule that I haven’t had time to volunteer lately. Maybe that’s why the demons have returned with such vengeance? In any event, the whiskey should hold off the nightmares for another night.

  The ringing of a cell phone pulls me out of my slumber. It isn’t mine. Next to me, Ems jumps out of bed and rushes to her purse, fumbling with her phone. I rest my head on my hands, enjoying the view.

  “Bonjour, Monsieur Price.”

  Adrenaline races through my body. There’s something
off about this guy. Her tone of voice confirms my suspicions.

  “Tonight?” Emilie looks at me, then to the floor. “No. I cannot.” A beat later, she says, “I have plans. I told you this when we had our meeting the other day.”

  So he wants to send her out on another appearance tonight? Good excuse for me to miss FPU’s anniversary party.

  She sighs. “I know that Geonna—”

  I push off the headboard and sit up. My protective side wants to rip the phone away from her and fight her battle. But it’s just that—her battle. Whatever she decides will be fine with me. I encourage her with a smile.

  As she listens to her boss, her eyes flick from me to the ceiling. Her back gets straighter. She could be a warrior princess, given how she’s carrying herself. Is she even aware she’s naked? My cock sure is.

  “I appreciate that. But my answer is still no. Brandan will have to find someone else to go with. Yes, Sunday through Wednesday are fine. And I have been running my lines for the Thursday movie filming.”

  She disconnects the call and tosses her phone back into her purse. I flip the sheet down. “Your standing up to your boss was fucking hot, Ems.”

  Ems lets out a huff and then levels me with a smirk. “I was pretty kickass, no?”

  I chuckle. “Oui, you sure were.”

  She struts to the bed. “Oh, I got a French word out of you, Wills.”

  Christ. The way she says my name makes my cock stand to painful attention. She licks her lips and walks toward the bed. Her hand closes around my erection, causing me to suck in my breath. “I’m proud of how you handled him,” I manage to get out.

  She bends to within an inch of my cock, which jumps in his eagerness. “Let me see if I can make you even more proud.”

  And she does.

  Emilie hands me the keys to lock up her house. She insisted on dropping by to change into something more “appropriate” for an anniversary party despite having brought three outfits to my apartment. She stands on her front stoop in a sleeveless pink dress and hair piled on top of her head. Instead of my favorite stilettos, she’s wearing low heels that have a strap around the back of her heels. Still sexy.

  “You look beautiful.” Handing her the house keys, which she gracefully deposits into her purse while holding a wrapped gift, we return to my Jeep. “Are you sure you want to go? There’s still time to change your mind.”

  She laughs. “I am honored to be your date. I have missed so many of my own family parties.”

  Shit. I can’t deny her anything, especially when she couches it like that. I’m too wired to let her drive and since she doesn’t ask, I guide her to the passenger side and devour her lips for sustenance. Not able to delay any longer, I force myself into the driver’s side and start the trek to my parents’ house.

  She prattles on about how excited she is to meet my parents. “Ems, don’t be surprised if they treat you like a prize to be shown off to their friends.”

  “I am sure you are exaggerating. How long has it been since you have seen them?”

  I shrug. “I don’t remember. Christmas, I guess.”

  “That was over eight months ago! I bet they will be happy to see you. Your mother said so.”

  I exhale a long breath. “Whatever.”

  “Wills, promise me you will give them a chance. For me.” She grabs my hand and raises it to her lips, dropping a kiss on the back of it. When I remain silent, she squeezes.

  “Fine. I promise to give them a chance, for you. But at the first sign of aggression from FPU, we’re out of there.”

  “You will be surprised, you will see.”

  My gut tells me it’s she who will be surprised, but I keep my assessment to myself and continue driving. When we stop at a traffic light near my parents’ home, I say, “Okay, we’re almost there.” Ems adjusts her posture and becomes very interested in the passing scenery.

  My family lives in a typical middle-class neighborhood. The houses are relatively close together and small. Nothing like the neighborhood she lives in, filled with gracious lots and mansions. As the disparity between Ems and me comes into sharp focus, my chest constricts.

  “It is so lovely in here. Reminds me of where I grew up before Maman and Papa moved us to a flat in Paris proper.”

  At a stop sign a block from my family home, I switch the blinker. Even though no one’s coming, I can’t bring myself to make the final turn.

  “Is everything alright?”

  Blankly, I look at the woman sitting next to me. “Huh?”

  “We have been sitting here for a while. Even I could have made the turn.” She giggles.

  I force a small smile. “Oh,” I say, clearing my throat. “Yeah. We’re almost there.” After turning, I take it slow past my old neighbors’ houses. Cars line the dead end road. Looks like my parents went all out.

  Driving around, I find a spot across the street and a few houses down from the old homestead. When we’re parked, I look in her direction. She’s animated—her foot is tapping and fingers playing an imaginary tune on her arm. At least one of us is excited.

  Before more animosity can fester, I unbuckle my seat belt. Stepping out of the Jeep, I go to Ems’s side and open her door. She reaches out and I take her hand in mine. As our skin touches, a prickle of electricity runs up my arm and she emits a low gasp. Not pausing to consider what this means, I tamp down my body’s reaction and help her out.

  “Merci,” she says, while reaching back to retrieve the gift she brought. She adjusts her dress. “Do I look alright to meet your family?”

  Two glaring problems with her last sentence hit me upside the head. “Ems, it is impossible for you to look just ‘alright.’” I don’t share the second issue—meeting my family should be their honor, not hers. I keep my lips shut, biting the inside of my cheek.

  I slip on my blazer and pick up the anniversary gift she insisted I buy. What do you get the couple who is above everyone? Liquor.

  I fiddle with the wrapping that the customer service rep did for me and realize I forgot to buy a card. “Fuck,” I mutter.

  Looking around, Ems squeaks, “What is it? Are the paparazzi here?”

  Another disparity between us bites me on my ass. Her life is reporters and red carpets. Mine is forgotten cards and dead ends.

  I shake my head. “Believe me, you’re safe from them here. I forgot to pick up an anniversary card.”

  She releases her breath. “Wait here.” She scurries back to the passenger side, opens the door and pulls something out of her big tote bag. I didn’t notice that she’s now carrying a little purse. “I was not sure.” She holds up an envelope. “I could not decide, so I bought two.”

  “You have an extra anniversary card?”

  She nods. “Oui.” She extends the card toward me.

  I don’t deserve this woman, but I’m grateful for her save. Otherwise I would have written my name directly on the wrapping paper, surely earning some snarky comment from my father. Not that having a card will save me from one.

  “Thanks.” I take the card and scribble my name.

  She beams at me. “Which one is yours?” Emilie motions toward the row of houses.

  Pointing to a two-story white house with black shutters, I reply, “That one.” The lawn looks greener than ever and is nary a hair above dear FPU’s strict height requirement. Terracotta planters with perfectly-manicured topiaries sit on either side of the white front door. No weeds dare grow in between the pavers on the driveway and front walk. It’s sterile. Austere. Like its occupants.

  “It looks so nice and welcoming.”

  I glance at her. “Welcoming is not a word ever associated with this house.” I better remind her of the game plan, my promise notwithstanding. “Listen, Ems, let’s just go in, say hi and then get out as quickly as possible.”

  “I will follow your lead.” She reaches up to the back of my neck and fixes my collar. “There. Now you are perfect.”

  “Thanks.” I’m not perfect. Not by a lo
ng shot.

  Together, we cross the street and walk up the paver walkway. Arriving at the front door, I debate whether I should ring the doorbell or just go inside. Heavy footfalls from behind us cause me to step behind Ems, my heartrate accelerating.

  “Hey, is that you, Wills?”

  Still protecting Emilie—although I’m sure this is not someone out to hurt her, I turn and come face-to-face with my former football coach, now the town’s mayor. Of course he’d be invited—FPU always must hobnob with the “elite.” Sticking my hand out, I say, “Mayor Larsen.”

  He grips my hand and gives it an unnecessarily firm shake. “Wills. I’ll be damned. Haven’t seen you around these parts in ages.”

  “I’ve been busy.”

  “Yeah? You’ll have to tell me all about it.”

  Emilie clears her throat. Shit. I step aside and make the awkward introduction.

  “Nice to meet you, Emilie. It is Emilie, right?” Winking at me, my former coach-turned-mayor says, “Let’s get you two inside. I’m sure your father will be delighted that you’re here.”

  I manage not to roll my eyes at him as he breezes by us and walks right into the house. Motioning for Emilie to go ahead of me, I cross the threshold right behind her. Immediately, my hands start to sweat. I rub them up and down my charcoal colored slacks, reminding myself that I’m now a twenty-eight-year-old business owner—not a kid who refused to go into the Marines.

  People are everywhere. In the dining room to my left, they walk around the table filled with chafing dishes. To my right in the formal living room, they sit on the furniture Three and I never were allowed to even look at. In front of me in the family room, they huddle around the mantle lined with framed photos of my family members in uniform. Grandpa, FPU and Three all stand at attention.

  A table at the side of the dining room is set up with my parents’ wedding photo and an old photo of the four of us from when I was twelve. Guests have left their gifts there, so Ems and I place ours in the pile. Emilie grabs my hand, rubbing her thumb over the back of my palm. “Do you see your parents?”