The Club: Ace

by Jenna Elliot

  “I know,” Mia says. “But I also know he’s your baby daddy and you have feelings for him.”

  “Bad ones.”

  “Would you be so hurt if you didn’t care?”

  We just stare at each other. I can’t deny it because it’s true. She knows it. I know it. Damn it.

  “Look,” Mia points to a canopy set up farther down the beach. I’d noticed it earlier but assumed it was a setup for a beach wedding. “He’s in there.”

  Suddenly, my blood is rushing hard in my ears, so hard I can barely hear her when she says,those three guys are off-duty police. I checked their ID with their department. They’re legit, and they’ll run interference if you’re not comfortable. But I think Ace is straight on, Emme.”

  I can’t seem to think about anything beyond the fact that Ace is here. My adrenaline kicks in so hard that I feel swimmy again. My chest is tight, and it’s hard to draw more than a shallow breath.

  He found me. I don’t know what he wants to say, but the pathetic part of me that cares way too much for this man, wants him to take away all the hurt, convince me he cares for me, too.

  I’m such a hormonal idiot. But a practical one. No matter how much I want to play tough and proud, no matter how much I warn myself that he’s probably only here so he can take care of his responsibility like an adult—the way he should have from the beginning—all the impractical places inside me want to run to that tent to give him a chance to make everything okay.

  Because that’s what I really want.

  I hand Molly to Mia. “Will you take care of her? I won’t be long.”

  “Take your time. I need time to get to know my new little niece.”

  I make an attempt at a smile. Mia knows. Setting Molly on the ground, she gives me a hard hug. “It’s going to be okay.”

  I only nod and head down the beach, steeling myself for whatever to be strong, but so unsure. My stomach churns. While I realize Ace has gone to a lot of trouble to talk to me, that’s just the way he does things. A man full of grand gestures. The tent, the police, even getting my best friend to help him.

  That’s all about him, not me.

  But I need to hear him out. Even just for closure. I need to be as adult as I expect him to be. And, at the very least, I’m relieved that the man whose child I carry isn’t physically threatening me.

  I nod at the police officers, take a deep breath, and pull aside the white drape of the pavilion. It’s another world inside. A world where air misters cool the heat and combine the rhythm of waves with soft music. Along one side is a buffet with dozens of choices and food for twenty people.

  A beach party only the way Ace could throw one.

  And there he is. Pushing to his feet, dressed beach casual with shorts and a cool Habana shirt, looking more handsome than ever before, if that’s possible. He looks at me. No, not at me, right into me, as if he’s trying to read my soul.

  “Thank you for coming.” His voice is low and so sexy. A familiar voice that makes me come alive with awareness. But I won’t let him know. I won’t take one step closer.

  “Mia said you want to talk. I’m listening. Then I’m leaving.”

  He inclines his head, his expression one I haven’t seen before. Worried, maybe. I really don’t know. “Here, come sit. May I get you anything?”

  He’s beside me before I can answer. Maybe he can see my knees tremble. I force in a deep breath and let it out slowly. I’m happy to sink into the plushest beach chair.

  “Something to drink, Emme?”

  “No, thank you.”

  I sound abrupt. He looks drawn. I’ve never seen him like this before, and this whole scene feels painful.

  To my surprise, Ace kneels down in front of me. He takes my hands in his and stares at me with that strained expression.

  “Emme, I was an asshole. Even if I’m screwed up, that’s no excuse for how I treated you. I want you to know I’m sorry.”

  I nod. I don’t know what to say. I appreciate that he’s able to admit to being a jerk.

  I believe him. He’s not grandstanding. He may have set the stage, but the words seem to come from someplace inside that I didn’t know he had in him.

  His grip tightens on my hands. “I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get you back.”

  “Get me back?” I ask, the adrenaline suddenly rushing again, joy and alarm tangling inside me. Desire versus fear. Reality versus fantasy. “There isn’t anything to get back, Ace. We didn’t have anything. A few nights of interesting sex.”

  I don’t say it to hurt him. I honestly don’t think he can be hurt. Not by me. The hurts from his past are so painful that nothing in the present can touch him. But maybe I’m wrong. Because he looks hurt. As if I threw a rock at him, and he takes it because he deserves it.

  Maybe I should feel good for lashing out, that I can make him feel something. I don’t. I just feel hopeful and horrible all at once. I’m not interested in holding grudges. It’s just not my thing. I’m not unkind, either.

  And Ace seems sincere. I’m not sure if it’s my own wishful thinking. I didn’t understand why he told me he never wanted to see me again, and I don’t understand why he would change his mind. I don’t trust him, and I don’t trust myself around him.

  “I want to show you a video.” He pushes to his feet and grabs a laptop from a nearby table. “This is the same night your car was trashed.” He points to a date stamp and time in the corner. “It’s security footage from my office. I’m not your stalker, Emme.”

  “Mia said the police cleared you for both incidents.”

  He nods. “I’m sorry.”

  “I never thought it was you. Not really. But I had to protect myself. I’m not thinking for one anymore. I can’t take those kinds of risks. And after you told me you never wanted to see me again, I didn’t want to take any chances.”

  “You did the right thing, Emme. I certainly didn’t give you anything to work with,” he says softly, turning away to put the laptop back on the table.

  I get the idea that maybe he just needs not to look at me then, and I know I’m right when he admits, “I told you to come to me if anything happened, but when something did, I sent you away. I acted like such an asshole, and you can’t imagine how sorry I am.”

  I don’t know. Maybe I can. It’s a dangerous feeling, but everything inside me is melting when he kneels back in front of me, looking at me with that expression again.

  Worry? Because he thinks I won’t forgive him?

  “Why wouldn’t you think I was responsible?” he asks. “I wasn’t thinking about anyone but myself.”

  “I really didn’t, Ace,” I say softly. “Not at first, anyway.”

  “I just want you to be safe, so you don’t have to keep running.” He meets my gaze and says, “Jason’s responsible.”

  That takes me by surprise. “And you know this how?”

  “He admitted it.”

  “Whoa,” is all I can think to say. “You’re sure?”

  Ace only nods, as if he knows there are no other words necessary, not when all I can see is my trashed apartment and my busted car. All I can feel is the same horror I felt when I first read the threatening words splayed on my wall.

  Jason?

  How do I accept that someone who claimed to love me, someone I loved, could do this?

  My hands tremble.

  Frowning, Ace pushes to his feet again. He heads to the buffet and comes back with a glass of orange juice. “Sip this. It’ll help.”

  I do as he says. “I sure can pick them, can’t I?” The question sounds as pathetic as I feel.

  He takes the glass and sets it aside. I don’t feel better. Not when he takes my hands in his, not when he looks all protective, as if he wants to take away my hurt.

  I should feel thrilled that he seems to care.

  I should be outraged at Jason. How dare he terrorize me?

  But I just feel shaky and numb.

  We sit there quiet for a while, and Ace idl
y strokes his thumb across my knuckles. He’s right about one thing though—the orange juice does make me feel better. The sugar, I guess.

  “Did your private investigator find out about Jason?” I finally ask.

  “No. Actually, he didn’t,” Ace explains. “I hired him to locate you.”

  “Then how—”

  “Jason came to me.” Ace squeezes my hands, smiling softly at my obvious surprise. “Last thing I expected, I won’t lie. But apparently, like everyone else, he started to freak when you dropped out of sight. He started sniffing around the club to see if anyone knew anything. The minute I heard, I left orders that the next time he came around, he was to be directed to me.”

  “Whoa.” I’m guessing Jason had no clue what he was in for dealing with Ace. That makes me feel a little better. “How’d that go?”

  “Well, I didn’t kill him, if that’s what you’re asking.” He smiles, the smile that always made me go weak at the knees. “Was touch and go there for a while, but the dude was so damned pathetic . . . Besides, he wasn’t mine to kill. Figured that was your right.”

  “Pathetic?” I’m definitely perking up. “What do you mean, pathetic?”

  “Pathetic. As in a few weeks of freaking out about where you were and feeling responsible if something bad happened was enough to make him rethink his tactics.”

  I narrow my gaze. “His tactics?”

  “The dumb fuck said he was pissed off because he’d screwed things up with you, and was hurt that you wouldn’t give him a second chance. Apparently, he thought drinking was a good coping mechanism, which led to some seriously impaired decisions when he found out about the club. He was out of his head thinking about you screwing anyone else and drunk off his ass when he trashed your apartment and your car.”

  He was out of his head thinking about me screwing someone else? Really?

  “The asshole,” is all I say. I want to savor the fact that he knows how it felt, but I just don’t feel that way. I know Jason. I can imagine the way he reasoned, the stupid-ass, horrible anger directed at me because he is too damned immature to own it himself. He fucked things up between us. That’s on him.

  “So what did the police say?”

  Ace surprises me by shrugging. “I don’t think they’ve gotten that far in their investigation yet.”

  “Why am I not surprised?”

  He gives a snort of laughter.

  “Is he going to confess to the police or do I need to tell them? Be just like him to leave me to do it. Immature idiot. Then I’ll be the big bad bitch who turned him in.”

  Ace pulls out a small sheet of paper from his pocket. He unfolds it and reveals . . . “A check?”

  “For the damages,” he says. “Jason asked me to give you this.”

  I shake my head. “What is it with the men in my life writing me checks?”

  Ace looks like he took a bullet. “I can’t speak for the ex-dumb fuck, but this dumb fuck doesn’t want to be ex anything. My anger is all directed right where it belongs—at myself.”

  God, this was a lot to process. Jason the stalker. Ace apologizing and running interference. My thoughts swirl.

  “What you do with Jason is entirely up to you, Emme. I spoke to a lawyer and the prosecutor about your options.”

  “And?”

  “If you press charges the most he’ll get is a year in jail, but more likely he’ll get probation.”

  “Probation?”

  “He didn’t threaten your life, only damaged your property. And since he’s a first-time offender and has made restitution, if you press charges, he’ll get probation and maybe court-ordered therapy—if we’re lucky.”

  “I don’t feel safe knowing he’s out there.”

  “Your other option is to not file charges.”

  “Why would I do that? He might threaten or do worse to some other woman.”

  “He got hired by American Schools to teach English to aboriginals. He has a ticket to Sydney and will get on a plane if you decide not to turn him in. But either way, your ex isn’t bothering you again—even if I have to put security on him and you twenty-four seven.”

  Ace slips a cell phone from his shorts pocket and hands it to me. “Call him. Let him apologize. You deserve at least that much. Then you decide what you want to do. Whatever you decide will be the right choice.”

  I stare at the phone. Ace is right. I do deserve an apology, along with this check for the damages. But I’m more surprised by Ace, by his running interference for Jason, by his trying to give me options because there’s no doubt in my mind who got Jason a job in the outback.

  “Why do you care what I do with Jason?” I ask.

  Ace doesn’t meet my gaze. He just considers our clasped hands, the cell phone I still hold against my palm.

  “I don’t know how to explain,” he begins. “But, Emme, when he was freaking out in my office, bitching about where you were and how he was responsible for driving you away . . . All I could think was, if you couldn’t forgive him, there was no way in hell you’d forgive me. If you can’t, then you won’t take me back. I’m just like the dumb fuck because I drove you away, too. And I want you to forgive me. I want another chance.”

  God, he sounds like he means it, and all the turmoil and grief and hurt of the past month dissolves like the sand on the shoreline outside the pavilion.

  But how do I trust my judgment? He says whatever decision I make will be the right one, but my thoughts are swirling inside, tangling with my feelings. All I can think is that Ace wants a chance for us.

  But can I believe him?

  I don’t have an answer. I just know that I don’t need to talk with Jason. I may deserve an apology, but hearing his voice couldn’t matter less to me right now. I don’t have to hide anymore. I can go home. That’s what matters.

  Getting dragged into court to prosecute him for being an asshole isn’t going to make me feel better. Never having to see him or think about this nightmare again will.

  Looks like I have another check to cash.

  I press the phone into Ace’s hand. “I don’t need this.”

  He lifts his gaze, and I see hope deep in his gaze. “You’re sure?”

  “I’ll sleep on it, but I don’t see any point in turning him in. I just really want to put him behind me.”

  Ace inclines his head, returns the phone to his pocket. “What about me, Emme? How do you feel about us?”

  Now comes the hard part—the decision. To protect myself or, like Ace, to hope that fantasy and reality can come together.

  “I’m still pregnant.”

  37

  Ace

  I DON’T KNOW what else to do but explain how I feel. “Emme, I didn’t send you away because I don’t want a child.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. It was never on my radar, I won’t lie, but not for the obvious reasons. I don’t have a problem with kids.”

  Her expression doesn’t budge, and I know she doesn’t believe me. Can I really blame her? I haven’t given her much to grab onto. How can I possibly expect an apology to make up for my hurtful actions, to erase the pain I’ve caused?

  I can’t. I know that in my head. But I also know that making her understand how much she means to me is as vital as my next breath. I just don’t know how. Like the ex-dumb fuck, I face choices to deal with this mess I’ve made. Unlike the ex, I don’t want to make more of a mess because I don’t have a fucking clue how to convince Emme to understand, to take a chance on me.

  I can’t kneel here any longer. Everything about my body needs to move, to pace, to let loose a sudden surge of restless energy. “Would you like to walk?”

  “Sure, if you’d like. It’s a gorgeous day.”

  I extend my hand and help her from the chair. “You want the officers to come with us?”

  Her expression softens just a bit. The first positive sign. “That’s not necessary, Ace.”

  I suppose that’s something. She trusts me a little. So, we leave t
he pavilion and walk along the waterline, waving to Mia as we pass. Emme’s barefoot and skims along, kicking up a light spray. She looks content here in the sun and breeze. And I draw from her light, the light that brightens all the darkness in me.

  “Do you know why I live the way I do?” I ask.

  “Because you don’t want anyone to get close.”

  She shoots back her reply fast. So fast, I know I must be transparent. I let her get close enough to see my life, to make judgments. I didn’t treat her candidacy like business. Not from the first. That’s on me. And I suppose it’s better than her thinking I just like fucking a different woman every night.

  “I’m not comfortable when people get close,” I admit. “At first, I thought I was protecting those who would love me, because everyone who ever loved me dies.” I squeeze her hand tight. “But the truth is also that it hurts too much to lose someone you love. So I choose not to love. It’s a conscious choice on my part.”

  “It’s a lonely way to live, Ace.”

  No argument there. “You’re right. It can be lonely, but I was content. Until you.”

  She doesn’t say anything, not as we pass some kids playing in the sand in front of us, or as we pass a really old couple, all wrinkles and sun-bronzed skin, tottering along holding hands.

  “Are you expecting me to believe that you pushed me away because you have feelings for me?”

  “You think it’s ridiculous?”

  She only nods.

  “It’s true.” I don’t know how to be more honest than that.

  Only, Emme isn’t buying my truth. I see it in the skeptical lift of her brow, in her silence. She needs more.

  “For me, loneliness beat the alternative, and the risks. If I don’t have feelings, I can’t be hurt.”

  “I never took you for weak, Ace. You won’t let anyone get close because if things don’t work out, you get hurt?”

  This would be one of the reasons I don’t let anyone get close. Shit gets complicated. “When you say it like that, it sounds fucking ridiculous.”