“Know what? Robby said you guys broke up. Is that what has you upset? Baby, your heart will be broken a million times before you settle down. It should be . . . that’s why I didn’t want you to give everything to him.”
His voice was steady, just like always. My dad was my rock. In light of recent information, I wondered what would have become of me if he hadn’t kept me from making that huge mistake.
“Not Robby. I don’t care about him.” I pushed my head back into the pillow and cried hard.
“Em, you’re worrying me. Tell me what’s wrong. I’m not mad at you. I love you. Nothing could make me stay mad at you, I swear. I’ve been giving you space because that’s what you needed. I trust you. Look what an independent woman you’re growing into—”
“I found her.”
“Who?”
“Paula, Dad. My mom.”
“Christ, you saw her? Jeez, I wish I’d stopped you from this adventure.”
“No,” I whispered. “I didn’t see her.”
“All I ever wanted was for you to be happy, content, feel like you had a sweet life despite the shit circumstances. I knew finding her would be bad news.”
“I randomly met this girl, and it turned out her mom had been friends with Paula. It was like finding the most perfect shell on the beach. I couldn’t believe my luck.”
I told my dad the rest of the story, not leaving out any detail, and he listened. He didn’t interrupt or pass judgment.
When I was done, I asked, “That’s why I have to ask . . . did you know?”
A long beat of silence passed, and then he said, “Paps did, not long before he died. He sent a detective to look for her. Found her high on Lord only knows what, out of her mind in some ritzy penthouse. Paps took the information to be an omen. You were better with us. We decided to keep you away from all of that. I’m sorry if it was wrong. You were loved. More than loved. Know that, Em. We tried to love you more than enough.”
All the words stuck in my throat, I sobbed.
“Em, do you want to come home?”
“I don’t know, Dad. I need time to think. Bev’s my friend, and now I ruined everything with the only good friend I made. She’s dismissed me. Plus, there’s this guy . . . and maybe my mom is somewhere out there needing help, needing to know I grew up fine. Maybe that would help her . . . I just don’t know. I’m confused.”
It was a hard thing to admit, being confused, but it slipped out. Maybe because my dad was the only person who ever listened to me. Destined for heartbreak, I hadn’t given up the ghost in finding Paula. What the hell was wrong with me?
“Don’t torture yourself, sweetie. Your mom may be too far gone, and that’s not on you,” my dad said. “You can’t help a person who doesn’t want help. And it sounds to me like your friend told you, Paula doesn’t want any help. That’s not on you, or me. Look, Em, I did the best I could. Maybe it wasn’t always the best or the way I should have done shit, but I’m just a guy with a daughter he loves to pieces.”
“I’ll let you know. ’Kay? That’s the best I can do.”
“Emerson, this is your home. Come anytime. Call me anytime. I love you, do you hear me? No matter what, I love you. It’s always been you and me, honey. Please don’t make yourself sick over this.”
His worry for me was evident in his cracked voice. Yet I couldn’t make myself stop this search.
“Love you,” I said quickly and hung up.
Not sure how long I lay there, wondering why my dad’s love for me wasn’t enough. Why did I consider myself the only person who could really save my mom?
So there I lay, like a wealthy woman on TV eating bonbons, long enough for the sun to set and rise again. No school for me yet, since I hadn’t gotten any clarity on anything since I left home.
Price took a seat at the bar on Saturday night. “Hey there, stranger.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Getting a beer,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Am I not welcome? Someone else here caught your eye?” He smiled and pretended to look around the bar.
“Ha, no. You said you were going home after seeing your dad. Everything okay?”
“Well, good to know you were listening.”
“Hey, I’m a bartender. I listen. It’s what gets me the big bucks,” I joked, but I could see something was off.
There was a tiny furrow between Price’s eyes, a little divot of worry. His smile wasn’t fooling me. I’d grown up around men, and I knew when they were trying to cover up their feelings.
“I was supposed to head there this morning,” he said, not meeting my eyes. “But I changed my mind.”
“Is that so?” I filled a chilled pint glass with the latest beer on tap and set it in front of him, not wanting to admit how happy I was to see him. A certain calm rushed over me, in a way I’d never experienced before.
“You sounded sad when I texted last night.” He shoved his hand through his hair, and I noticed another small worry line in his forehead. It made me think of my dad, about someone caring about me, for me.
“I’m not sure how someone sounds like anything in a text . . .”
“Hush.” He took a swig of beer before continuing. “You know what I mean. You were clipped and sounded down. Not your usual snarky self.”
“Shit,” I whispered, grabbing a rag to wipe the bar. Idle hands were the enemy when in uncharted territory. “So, it was me? I made you cancel your trip home? Your mom will hate me.” How did he turn this around and make it about me? What was with men and their need to fix everything?
“Nah. It was a crap time with my dad. He was distracted, and basically, I was an afterthought, just like always with him. He was busy with an old friend who is sick or some shit. We had dinner Thursday night, and then I sat around all day Friday, waiting for him.”
“But you had Tuck. That’s a bright spot.”
“It is. In fact, he misses you. Why don’t you come back with me tonight when you’re done?”
“Oh, I see you trying to get in my pants, using your dog.”
This got me a big chuckle. The line in his forehead smoothed out, making my heart pound in relief. I hadn’t known that was possible, a heart beating because of someone else’s. I’d thought it was something made up in the movies.
“Em, what will I do with you? Here I am, wanting to cry in the beer only you and you alone poured, and you make me laugh. That’s why I came to your bar, and nowhere else.”
“I’m sorry.” I smiled through the apology.
The smell of beer all around us, my body sticky from working—it was like a scene from a romance movie. Not.
“Don’t be. I was feeling like shit, and now I’m not. You made me feel better already. I love my mom, but if I went there feeling low, she’d know in a heartbeat. And then she’d draw out every bit of my feelings, and analyze and dissect them, wanting to make me feel better. She’d make me feel worse without trying to, but still. Now I’m laughing. You take me as I am.”
“I’m glad I could provide that service. Although, I wouldn’t know what it’s like to have a mom dissect me. Maybe it’s fun.”
“Believe me, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. Go on, work, and then come home with me. Just to hang, scout’s honor,” he said, lifting two fingers. “We’ll have fun, maybe make s’mores over my stove?”
“Okay, boss, but one quick thing . . . I’m off tomorrow. I thought you’d be away, so I was planning on cleaning my apartment and washing my hair. You know, big stuff.”
“Well, now you’re all mine. Go work.”
True to his word, Price sat at the end of the bar watching a baseball game on TV until I was done. He didn’t bug me or try to take me away from the task at hand. I didn’t know devotion, but he certainly seemed full of it.
Price
Once Emerson’s shift ended, I took her hand in mine and walked her toward the car. Johnny had driven me out and said he didn’t mind waiting.
“Poor Johnny,” Em said. “It
’s so late.”
“I did a public service. No joke, I think he relishes the time alone, watching a movie on his iPad while waiting. I’m sure his life at home is hectic.”
“Shhh,” she whispered, tucked into my side, watching Johnny run around to get the door for her.
“Where to, boss man?” Johnny asked me.
“Cut the crap,” I said while laughing.
He gave me a big grin. “It’s just too easy to get you.”
“Yeah, yeah. We’re going to my place.”
“No problem,” he said, and headed back to the driver’s side.
Settled in the back seat, I threw my arm around Emerson and pulled her close. “Now, this is good, right?”
“Oh no!”
“What?”
“Tuck! You left him for so long tonight . . . because of me.”
I shook my head and chuckled at what I was about to admit. “My building is full service. Had the nighttime guy go up and give him a potty break.”
“Oh.”
“Fuck me. If anyone back home heard me say that out loud, I’d be the joke of the town.”
“Your secret’s safe with me.” Leaning her head on my shoulder, Emerson closed her eyes, and we rode in silence.
When we pulled up in front of my building, I jostled her gently. “We’re here.”
Watching her wipe her eyes with the back of her hand, I swallowed my hunger. I liked this chick—young lady, whatever—in ways I hadn’t believed really existed.
“Come on.” I took her hand and walked her in the front door and to the elevator. Up we went, my lips pressed to hers, until I broke free for a second and mumbled, “My mom’s probably pissed I didn’t come home, but this made it worth it.”
Upstairs, Emerson asked if she could take a shower.
“Sure. Why don’t I take Tuck out while you do that.”
Of course, I would have rather joined her, but there was no sense in pushing. The time would come.
“Okay,” she said quietly, and padded off toward the master bathroom.
Another lump of hunger, not for food, went down my throat. I was doing my best to stay in my lane. There was no rush, no reason to pressure her. But I wanted this woman.
To say I wasn’t prepared for the sight in front of me when I walked back in with the dog would be an absolute understatement.
Right there, on my couch, Emerson sat, her hair hanging in wet strands, her long legs stretched out from beneath the towel that wasn’t doing a good job covering her up. Her tits were loosely covered—it would only take one tug to free them.
“Hey,” she said. “Your couch is like a cloud.”
As soon as he was off his leash, Tuck ran and jumped up next to her.
“See?” she said with a grin. “Tuck agrees.”
“I’m pretty sure he thinks you’re like a cloud.” I sat next to her. “In fact, I agree.”
Sliding a loose wet strand behind her ear, I ran my lips down her cheek from earlobe to chin, her skin like a cool pillowcase on a hot night to my burning lips.
“Em,” I murmured against her lips. “You’re so beautiful.”
“Thanks for rescuing me,” she whispered back.
“You rescued yourself.” My hand wound under her hair, my palm finding the nape of her neck, and I brought her closer. Her left thigh against my right, her front now flush with mine. I was dying to lay her down and be on top of her.
“No one’s ever been there for me like you.”
“We have a connection,” I told her. “I like it . . . and I really like you.” We kissed again, our mouths finishing the conversation.
When her fingers slipped under the hem of my T-shirt, goose bumps spread over my skin, and if I was being honest, my patience was disintegrating.
“Take me to bed,” she said, her soft hand drawing figure eights on my back.
“Emerson, we don’t have to rush.”
“I want you to. Come on.”
Pulling out of my arms, she rose on bare feet and started walking toward the bedroom. I followed. Inside my domain, she turned and dropped the towel.
“It has to mean something,” I told her, struggling to breathe. And I meant it. “I don’t want it to be revenge sex against your dad or your douche ex.”
We stood so close, her breath ghosting my face, her chest rising and falling. She was so beautiful, and I wanted her so badly, but I wanted to be sure.
“I don’t want to only be a distraction to your pain.”
She shook her head. “It’s none of that. None. It means maybe more than you know.”
With a quick swipe of her hand, she removed my shirt . . . and any resolve I was holding on to.
Gently backing her into the bed, I spread her out in front of me, and shoved out of my cargos. Flip-flops, boxers, shorts all deposited in a heap, I lay down next to her and kissed her. It was agonizing to take it slow, but I did my best, my palm gently moving over the side of her breast and back up again.
She pushed into my hand, and her legs twisted with mine. Her heat met my thigh and she moved, trying to create friction. My lips found her nipple, and my finger found its way to her heat. She was so hot, burning for me, and it was a major turn-on.
Quiet whimpers made their way from her mouth until she was spent and ready for all of me. She fumbled with my length, but it didn’t take long for her to learn how to caress me, just hard enough, the right speed, and then I grabbed her hand, stopping her.
Reaching toward the nightstand, I grabbed a condom. My fingers struggled to rip it open. Sometimes, nerves even got the best of us dudes. After it was on, I took Emerson’s lips again in a kiss.
“You sure?” I asked, needing to confirm that this was what she wanted.
She nodded, and then I did something I hadn’t done since I was fifteen years old. I went slow, not pushing in too hard, too rough, too quickly . . . until she squirmed and said, “I’m ready, please.”
Once I was inside her, I ran my fingers down Emerson’s arm, looking into her eyes. “Okay?” It came out gentle, my own resolve warring inside me. Go fast, not too fast, claim this woman.
“Yes. Move, please.”
She didn’t have to ask again. I moved in and out, closing my eyes for a moment, savoring each stroke. My past was nothing but behind me, my future somewhat clear.
It might have been eight years since I took someone’s cherry, but it didn’t mean I could hold on for long. Together, we hit a crescendo and . . . wow . . . I didn’t even know what happened, or that it could happen like that.
“Let’s go see your dad. Come on, it’ll be fun,” I said over coffee and pancakes the next morning.
Emerson sat across from me in one of my T-shirts, the left side falling off her shoulder, exposing her creamy skin and the length of her neck. Resisting the urge to run my tongue there, I took a sip of coffee instead.
“This again?”
“I’ve never been to the beach. Come on.”
“I can’t believe that. Wait, do you know how to swim?”
“Yes, I do, missy.” I reached across the table and pinched her cheek.
She promptly stuck her tongue out at me and forked a bite of blueberry pancakes off her plate. “I’ll say this, you’ve been holding out on me. These are good.”
“My mom’s recipe,” I told her, trying to keep from getting emotional.
I missed my mom, and I was certain she saw through my lame excuse when I didn’t visit her this weekend. Homework, I’d said. She knew me better than to fall for that, especially since the summer session was over and fall hadn’t yet begun, but she let it go.
“It’s crazy good,” Emerson said. “Why don’t we go there? And then I’ll think about going to my dad’s another time.”
“It’s August, and hot as hell. Let’s go to the beach, and then we can go to my mom’s in the fall.”
The meaning of my statement hung in the air like the humidity outside. I was making long-term plans. Fall was only a month away, but I
could see the surprise in Emerson’s wide eyes.
“Em, you gave me something special last night. Now, don’t go taking my man card for saying this.” I took her hand in mine. “But this isn’t some hit it and quit it thing, okay?”
Her knee bounced quickly under the table; I could feel her heel tapping on the floor.
“Also, I could make you better pancakes with the blueberries there . . .”
She swallowed, and I could practically see the thoughts ripple through her mind, the expression on her face going from shock to surprise to something softer.
“You just want me to make up with my dad,” she said, changing the subject.
“I do.”
“You left Philly mad at your dad.”
“Different story. Feel me? Your dad’s been with you since day one. Come on . . . he may not like the idea of me, but he’ll warm up to me. And we’ll bring Tuck. No one can resist the blond bombshell of a dog.”
Emerson frowned. “I’ll think about it, okay? Will that get you to be quiet? I’ll call him later and see what he says.”
“My lips are sealed. Now, what do you want to do today?”
Setting her fork down, she took a deep breath. “I was going to see if I could get a last-known address for my mom. I planned to go see Bev’s mom while Bev is at her dance class. I know I shouldn’t, that I should let it go, but I can’t.” She rambled, closing her eyes.
“Hey, can I say something?”
“Can I stop you?” A half smile ghosted across her lips.
“Bev meant, means, a lot to you. Why don’t you try to see her too? Make a peace offering. Fall on your sword. Whatever type of words of wisdom they spout in those self-help books like Friendship for Dummies.”
“I want to. Maybe I can ask Sheila—her mom—the best strategy, and get Paula’s address while I’m there. Would you . . .” Emerson shook her head. “Never mind.”
“Would I go with you? Yep. Then we’ll go to the zoo. Nothing makes you feel better than the zoo. Done.”
We finished eating over small talk until Tuck trotted over, carrying his leash in his mouth and running in circles. Deciding he wanted a walk, we obliged before going back to Em’s for fresh clothes and to visit Sheila.
Wanderlove - Rachel Blaufeld Page 12
