Embrace

by S. Layne

  I’ve been in my own little world.

  “I made some appointments while I’m in town, so I’ll be gone most of the day. Then I figured I should swing by my parents’ house and see them.”

  My nose scrunches at his plan and I don’t offer to go with him. James’s relationship with his parents has always been uneasy, and they’ve never liked me all that much—maybe because I came from more money than them, or something.

  We’ve never been sure what the reason is, but based on the look James gives me with my silence, he’s not surprised I’m not willing to submit myself to their sarcastic and underhanded comments about whatever subject they choose for the day.

  Sometimes it’s my clothes, or my posture, or my dad.

  Whatever. They’re angry people.

  “Appointments?” I ask, and James looks out the window.

  My hand on the passenger door handle starts to sweat. He’s hiding something.

  “Yeah.” Running his hands through his hair, he looks back at me, but he doesn’t appear nearly as comfortable. “I just made some calls yesterday, and I’m having lunch with Nolan.”

  I grin from ear to ear. “Oh, how is he?” I always loved Nolan Meyers. They became friends in law school. Nolan is easy-going—a player, probably—but to me he’s always felt like my little brother even though he’s five years older. Last I heard he’d started his own law firm in Ann Arbor. “How’s his firm?”

  “Good,” James says, and smiles for real. “He said he’s been busy, but I wanted to see him.”

  “Tell him I say hello,” I say and look out the door. “I need to get inside, I guess.”

  The tension sparks in the car and I see James hesitate. His mouth opens and closes, and God…I freaking hate this.

  “I’m sorry about this morning. I really am.”

  I shake my head. “Can we just put it behind us?” I ask, turning to him. “Not everything. I know we have things we need to talk about, but can we just wait until we’re back in Denton? Maybe see Elissa again?”

  It’s as if I just lifted eighty pounds off of him. His shoulders drop and all the tension is sucked right out of the car. One of his hands reaches out and cups my cheek. I find myself leaning into his touch.

  “Yes,” he says, and his voice is soft. Hopeful. A twinge of warning that I’ve just gotten his hopes up sparks in my gut, but I push it aside. Maybe I want to be freaking hopeful.

  Before I can stop myself, I follow my heart and lean in further, brushing my lips against his.

  His quick inhale tells me he’s shocked and his hand tightens on my cheek. I pull back before he can push it further.

  Right now…something feels okay.

  And okay is good with me.

  “Tell Nolan I say hi,” I murmur, repeating myself. My lips pull into a shy smile. I’m outside the car when I turn back and duck down before I close the door. “Have a good day, James.”

  His eyes light up like fireworks and he grins so wide it reminds me of easy days and happier times. “I will, Laurie.”

  I close the door and wave goodbye before I enter the hospital.

  My dad looks as if he’s aged three years in the span of three days. His laugh lines, which spread out at the edges of his eyes, used to make him seem distinguished and dignified. Today they just make him look old. A deep line in between his brows makes him look tired, and even though we’ve just been told my mom is recovering well and will be able to come home this weekend, my dad still sits hunched over in his chair, defeated and exhausted.

  “I’ve talked to Elma,” I tell him, nudging his knee with mine. We’re in the waiting room after talking with the doctor about my mom’s prognosis. She’s spent most of the day sleeping, and we didn’t want to disturb her. So for the last several hours, we’ve been hanging out on uncomfortable chairs, watching mind-numbing television. “She’s going to set you up with grocery deliveries for the next few weeks and she’s hired someone to prepare meals for you, too, as well as having the cleaning lady come twice a week instead of just once.”

  “I don’t want someone in my home. Your mother would hate it.”

  “They prepare the meals in advance and drop them off once a week. All you have to do is freeze, thaw, reheat.”

  He drops his head into his hands like I’ve asked him to do the impossible.

  Hoping to lighten his heavy mood, I tease him. “That’s not too much for you, is it?”

  My dad huffs and shakes his head. “This week…it just might be.”

  “C’mon,” I say, bumping his shoulder. “You’re exhausted and you’ve probably been eating like crap all week. Let’s go home for tonight and I’ll cook you dinner.”

  “I want to stay with your mom.”

  Which is sweet, but he’s driving her crazy and she wants him gone. “Mom wants you to go home and get some rest.” I pull on his hand. “Come on, Dad. Come home with me and let me take care of you while I’m still here. When she gets home from the hospital next week, you’ll be able to be with her all day long.”

  He sighs, and I can tell it’s with great reluctance that he allows me to slowly pull him to his feet. When he does, he looks down the hallway. “Just let me go say goodbye.”

  “Fine. But I’m coming in after five minutes.”

  “You’re getting quite bossy,” he says, shooting me a grin. It isn’t quite happy but not entirely sad, either, so I figure it’s progress.

  “I know.” I nod with a grin. “It’s the new me.”

  I press my lips together and wonder if I’ve said too much. My father reaches out and his hand curves over the top of my shoulder. “Liam Parker called me this morning. Said he didn’t want to interrupt me during this time but mentioned that you’ve resigned.”

  “I’m not sure now is the time to talk about this.”

  “I’m not sure there’d ever be a good time.” He sighs and his chin dips. The slight move fills the small space between us with an air of importance and privacy. “I think you’re making a poor decision business-wise, but I understand why you wouldn’t want to work for your old man. The merger of these two companies, however, does not mean you’d be under my thumb or daily control.”

  “But it would always feel like it, and you’ve always stressed the importance of making it on your own. Your way, your rules.”

  His hand squeezes my shoulder, and even though I can tell that he doesn’t want to smile, one breaks through. It’s one of pride. “I suppose I shouldn’t expect anything less of my own daughter, should I?”

  With one hand, I reach up and cover his hand with mine, squeezing it. “You should go see Mom before she gets more annoyed with you.”

  “Your mom is never annoyed with me. She just likes to pretend she is.”

  “Sure, if that’s what you like to believe.” I wave him off. “Five minutes or I leave without you.”

  As I turn to watch him head toward my mother’s room, the elevator door dings, opens, and James steps out.

  I didn’t think I would see him until later. “I wasn’t expecting to see you.”

  The edges of his lips curve into a slow smile and he walks toward me. “But you don’t sound unhappy about the surprise.”

  His teasing banter makes me smile and I shake my head. I don’t know what happened between this morning and now, but all the anger from our earlier argument seems to have dissipated between us.

  And I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been thinking about my offer to just let things go and wait until we can return to Elissa’s office.

  It’s all I’ve been thinking about all day, and the more I’ve thought about it, the more I’ve decided that there are some things I’ve been hanging unfairly over James’s head.

  Not purposefully. Unintentionally.

  But I feel like until we’re on even footing, nothing will truly change—and because I love him enough, I’m unable to let him go.

  “I’m not unhappy to see you at all,” I say, and watch his eyes light up.

  “In th
at case…” he says, and takes three long strides until he’s in front of me. One of his hands reaches out and he cups the back of my neck. “Let me take you out on a date.”

  I flinch slightly from the shock of his words, but his hand keeps me in place, like he knew he had to hold me still before he even asked the question.

  Like he knows me.

  Because he does —James knows every single thing about me.

  “Don’t say no,” he whispers, dipping his chin. His eyes narrow and his expression is pleading. The warmth from his fingers seeping into my sensitive skin has my body warming—responding to him.

  “I wasn’t planning on it,” I whisper back, surprised at my own words. I don’t want to.

  If there’s hope of us moving on, we have to begin to put the past behind us, and I can’t begin to do that until I take a step forward.

  “I do need to take my dad home, though,” I say. “And I’d really like to wash the stink of the hospital off me before we do anything.”

  He takes a small step forward. His chest brushes against mine and we are much too close to one another for proper affection in public. I feel like our bodies somehow just became plastered together and yet I’m not even trying to move away.

  I like it too much.

  I’ve missed this. The way James’s large frame has always seemed to envelop mine, making me feel warm and safe all at once.

  “I can help with that.”

  “I’m sure you could.” I smile, my cheeks warm, and when James’s lips quirk into a salacious grin, I know we’re both thinking of my confession about the shower the other day. “You wouldn’t. Not with my dad there.”

  I can’t believe I’m teasing him about this.

  He leans forward, angling his head until his lips brush against my ear, and with his hand on my neck, he pulls me flush against him. “I will do whatever it takes to remind you how good we can be together. Even that—even if your dad is home.”

  My belly warms and flips at the memory of how well James can truly touch me. He can turn me on and inside out and have me screaming his name in minutes.

  And it wouldn’t be the first time it happened in my home with my parents present, either.

  “James,” I whisper, my voice breathy, and I’m dizzy. I don’t even know what I need from him right now, just that he smells so good—so much like my James.

  I breathe him in, feeling tears swell in my eyes at the same time.

  Squeezing my eyes closed, I tilt my head up until I open them and am staring directly into the darkened ebony pools of James’s eyes. “I really want to try to get past this, I just don’t know if I can and I don’t know if I can make those promises—”

  I’m cut off by James’s lips pressing against mine and I immediately open my lips, parting for him.

  His hand tangles in my air and I feel the force of his inhale against my chest as his mouth devours me without warning.

  It’s a kiss of possession, and as hesitant as I am, I lean in, wrap my arms around his neck, and pull myself to my toes until I’m fully invested in this kiss.

  It’s a promise of hope.

  It’s how I want to be with James forever—what I thought we’d always have—and my entire body responds as I lean in, mewling with pleasure into his mouth as he consumes me with one hand on my neck and one on my hip.

  He holds me to him and his tongue swipes inside my mouth, tangling with mine, kissing me until we are swallowing each other’s quiet groans. When I’m fully breathless and have completely forgotten where we are, James pulls back. He doesn’t let me go, but separates our mouths from one another.

  “That is the best thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “I didn’t promise anything.”

  “You gave me hope, and a chance at reconciliation. It’s the only thing I want.”

  I’m not able to say anything else because James has his lips back against mine, but this time the kiss is softer. We explore each other with tender kisses and teasing swipes of our lips against the other.

  When my dad comes back, I’m still breathless but my hand is gripped firmly inside James’s large palm. My knees are wobbly and my core is hot and throbbing, needing relief.

  I want the promises we originally gave one another years ago.

  And they might be forever tarnished, but as James leads my father and me out of the hospital and drives us back to our house, for the first time since I’ve found out about James’s affair, I feel as if there’s hope for something good on the horizon.

  My foundation feels flatter, stronger than it has in months.

  “This was a great idea,” I tell James, waving my blue putter at the sixteenth hole.

  He bends over, lines up his green ball, and squints toward the windmill. I don’t know why he’s trying so hard. He hasn’t been able to beat me at mini-golf since we came here on our first date.

  “Only because you’re winning,” he replies right before he hits the ball.

  It bounces off a brick in the fake green fairway. We watch as the ball rolls over a small hill, down, and then right as it gets close to the hole through the base of the windmill, one of the arms of the large wooden contraption swings down, batting it out of the way.

  “Son of a bitch,” James mutters, hands on his hips, scowling at the moving piece of wood. “Sixteen years and I still can’t fucking make that shot.”

  “Shh.” I bump him with my hip, forcing him off the small tee-off box. “There are kids around.”

  I set my ball down on the rubber tee and press my lips together, concentrating. “You know whoever loses has to buy dinner, right?”

  James huffs, and I can’t help the grin that spreads my lips wide as I hit the ball. I miss the brick and my ball gains momentum going down the hill. It glides through the hole at the bottom of the windmill, missing the wooden arms that somehow seem to get James every single time.

  “Crying out loud,” he mutters, but I can tell by the press of his lips he’s trying not to laugh.

  “Hey,” I say, reaching out and grabbing his hand.

  Ever since we left my house, with a wink and wave from my dad, I somehow haven’t been able to stop touching him. It feels like it’s the most natural thing in the world, even if every time I grab for his hand, James looks at our connected hands like it’s a gift from God.

  It might be.

  The fact I’m with him might be his greatest gift, and I love that he’s showing me how much it means to him.

  It’s brought me to the edge of tears several times.

  Just like now.

  “Thanks for bringing me here,” I tell him and I roll to my toes, brushing my lips against his cheek. I pull away before he can turn a cheek kiss into something inappropriate given the families and young teens behind us on the course. “And I don’t just mean because I can always beat you here.”

  He scowls and leads me toward his ball so we can continue our game. “Next time we’re playing pool or darts.”

  “And I’ll buy dinner—McDonald’s or something equally delicious.”

  “Which means tonight you’re getting Taco Bell.”

  I wiggle my eyebrows. “My favorite.”

  “Sure it is,” he says, laughing a low and easy laugh that I haven’t heard in months. It’s the way our night has gone.

  I don’t know if it’s from my admission at the hospital or if it’s due to the nostalgia of the mini-golf course, but we’ve had fun.

  We’ve joked and teased.

  We’ve smiled and laughed.

  We’ve snuck kisses behind trees and waterfalls.

  We’ve behaved as if we’re in love with each other—possibly because regardless of the pain, we still are.

  But most of all, by the time I beat James at golf and we’ve had an equally enjoyable dinner of cheeseburgers and fries at a simple sports bar, I’m beginning to remember why I’ve always loved him.

  It’s because he makes it easy to smile and laugh.

  It’s because when I’m not
hating him, I can’t keep my hands off him.

  It’s because he has a way of making me feel as if I’m the most important person—not just in the room, but in the entire world.

  And by the time our date comes to an end and James is walking me up to my front steps just like he did when we were in high school, the same nervous flutters are flying wildly in my stomach just like they used to when we were cutting it close to curfew and I feared my dad would be peering through the front windows, waiting to bust me for being late.

  Except tonight I’m nervous for an entirely different reason.

  This feels like it’s happened a thousand times before—but it’s also the first time in forever, too.

  “Thanks for a great date,” I tell James when we reach the front door. Unlike in high school, all the lights in the house are off and I know my dad turned in hours ago.

  Based on the small smile on James’s lips, he’s thinking of dropping me off in high school, too. His hands come up and mold to my cheeks. They’re warm and a little bit sweaty, like he’s just as nervous as me.

  “It was my pleasure,” he whispers, and brushes his lips against mine. His fingers tighten on my cheeks and when he pulls away from the brief but firm contact, I can feel his breath dance across my skin.

  I bite the inside of my cheek, pretending that he’s not already staying here, and hoping he understands what I’m asking. I’m unsure and determined at the same time.

  I want this.

  “Would you like to come in for a drink?” I ask, and hold up the keys, jingling them between us. “Maybe stay awhile?”

  I watch the Adam’s apple bob and dip in his throat. His eyes lift from the keys to my eyes and I suck in my bottom lip, chewing the inside with my teeth.

  Without a word, James reaches out with his thumb and pulls my lip from my teeth.

  He takes the keys from my hands. “Are you asking what I think you’re asking?”

  He pushes open the door, and I breathe out a shaky breath. With the door open, James extending a hand so I can enter before him, I keep my eyes on his.