by Caitlyn Blue
“What about the sleeper sofa in the sunroom?”
“Have you asked her about this? What makes you think she even wants to live with us?”
“I’ll get Paul to talk to her. It won’t be for very long. Just a couple months until she gets settled.”
Once again, I’m feeling squeezed by guilt. Why does Julie always manage to make me say yes to things when I’d much rather say no?
“I’ll ask, but no guarantees, and do not say anything to her until I clear it with Sarah, Brynn and Gabby.”
“You’re the best.”
I notice she doesn’t offer to do anything for me in return. It burns a little, but that’s the nature of our relationship. I know that I’ll have to ask if I want a favor and probably more than once.
“Have you talked to Zach?” Julie asks, her voice a little too casual.
“Yesterday.”
“Are you two hanging out a lot?”
I have my back to her so she can’t see my expression. I imagine I’m pretty close to tears. “I’ve been really busy with the store.”
“Paul says he hasn’t been in contact at all. He’s wondering what’s going on. I thought maybe you were the reason he’s been out of touch.”
“Nope.” My tone betrays my rising irritation. Why is she bugging me about Zach when she told me to stay away from him? Julie is so annoying. “Maybe he’s picked up some new clients and has a lot on his plate.”
“Sure. That could be it. So, have you seen him at all?”
I can’t take it anymore. I face my sister and hit her with a nonchalant shrug. “We talk on the phone about stuff relating to your bachelor/bachelorette getaway. That’s it.”
“What happened? I thought you two were together.”
You happened. But I can’t say it. The reason Zach and I aren’t together has to do with who he is and what I want. Julie only pointed a megawatt spotlight at the difference between us.
“I told you we were just hanging out,” I say. “No big deal. And now we’re not.”
“This isn’t because of me, is it?”
Oh my god. Not everything is about you. “Nope.”
“Because after the anniversary party, Paul pointed out that Zach is really into you and that he’s never seen him so happy.” To her credit, Julie sounds sincerely concerned. “That night I said some things to you that were more about my issues with Zach. I didn’t mean to interfere.”
“Interfere?” Is she kidding? “You told me to keep things between us platonic otherwise he was going to cheat on me—that you didn’t want my broken heart ruining your wedding.”
“I’m sure that won’t happen.”
“Really?” I invest the word with heavy skepticism. “Because you were pretty convinced about it that night.”
“I’m sorry,” Julie says, not meeting my gaze. “I had no right.”
It’s the most contrite I’ve ever seen my sister. Her sincere apology deflates my outrage. “You were trying to protect me,” I say, although I don’t actually believe that this is what motivated her.
“You should date Zach if you want to.”
As I watch her struggling with this declaration, I can’t imagine Julie coming to this awareness on her own. Paul must’ve talked to her. He’s by far the more empathetic of the two and often acts as Julie’s conscience.
“Thank you,” I murmur, my tone ironic. “I really appreciate you giving me your blessing.” Permission is more like it.
She nods and turns her attention back to the birdseed hearts. As I head into the dining room to check on my mom’s progress, I’m suddenly aware that I’m dizzy. I head toward the half bath below the stairs and close the door behind me.
You should date Zach if you want to.
Do I want to?
More than anything. So why the night of the Evolution Brewery anniversary party had I been so quick to dismiss what I felt? To Julie. To Zach. He’d been upset that I’d reduced our relationship to a fling. It wasn’t. I didn’t want it to be. And suddenly I don’t think that’s what he wants either.
So, how do I fix what I’ve broken?
29
Zach
In the weeks since I’d seen Emma, I’ve been working like crazy to get everything in place for her new business. I updated the business plan, and with the financial picture all figured out, Jayce Kelly is on board as an investor. Together with Gabby and her mom, I found the perfect storefront. Even though we haven’t signed a lease, the owner was nice enough to give me access to the property for a small gathering of Emma’s family and friends.
The only wrinkle in my perfect plan had been how to get her to the party. She’s turned down every invitation to dinner, coffee, lunch, and even assistance at the antique shop. I was on the verge of turning to her roommates for help when she called out of the blue last Sunday and asked me out to dinner.
Now her friends are waiting at the retail space in River North, excited to surprise her. All I need is for Emma to arrive at my place so I can walk her over.
She’s ten minutes late, which is unusual for her. I resist the urge to text her and check on her ETA. That’s out of character for me and she’ll know something’s up. The anticipation is killing me. I put this whole thing together in just over a week and it’s been hell not letting on what I’ve been up to.
At long last I hear a knock on the door. Letting out an enormous sigh, I let her in. She’s standing in the hallway wearing a trench coat, black stilettos, and a sassy grin. Every nerve in my body goes on high alert. For the last three weeks I’ve buried myself in work to keep from missing her. The tactic was only partially successful. With her here, and looking like that, I want nothing more than to drag her into my arms and kiss every bit of that red lipstick off her mouth.
But tonight isn’t about that. Tonight is a chance for me to show her that I’m not the guy with the short attention span where romance is concerned. I’m here for her in good times and tough ones. I want to be her biggest fan and her most ardent supporter.
“Hey.” My voice is a raspy mess of longing and desire. “You look great. Is that a new coat?”
“I’m glad you like it.” She enters my apartment, her hips swaying in sultry rhythm with the blood pounding in my ears.
I’m mesmerized by the perfection of her bare legs visible beneath the hem of the trench. I suspect something amazing lies beneath the coat. She’s full of sexual confidence. This alone warns me to shut my front door as soon as she’s inside. I can’t speak or take my eyes off her as she stops with her back to me and spreads the coat wide.
I wet my lips. “Are you ready for dinner?”
“There’s no hurry.” Her words and suggestive tone make my temperature climb.
As eager as I am for a peek, I remember that a dozen people have gathered less than a block away for this surprise.
“Ah.” Shit, shit, fuck. I’m dying here. “Can we do this after dinner?”
“You know what they say…” She inches the coat off one shoulder, revealing a thin black strap, and peers at me with wicked delight.
“No.” I shake my head, torn between laughter and despair. The timing could not be worse. Nearly two dozen people are waiting for us to show up and we’re late. “I really don’t.”
“Life is short, eat dessert first.”
And with that she drops her coat and peers at me over her shoulder. She’s wearing a black lace bra and matching thong. As she executes a slow turn, I don’t know where to look first. She is without a doubt the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. Not because the lingerie is provocative, but because she drove across town wearing just this and a trench coat. All for me.
“Holy fuck.”
“That’s it.” She sets her hand on my chest, right where my heart is racing out of control. “That’s the expression I’ve been thinking about all day.”
“Ah…” Her hand grazes up my thigh and across my aching dick. I cup her hand to steady it right where I need her most and press my hips forward, eager
to experience the lance of pleasure her touch brings. “Fuck.”
Holy shit. We can’t do this now. People are waiting.
“Yes,” she croons. “Let’s fuck.”
“No.” I’ve never hated a word more. How do I turn her down without explaining why? I don’t want to spoil her surprise. “We can’t. That is, not now.” I gasp for breath as her teeth nip at my neck. “Not yet. I have…reservations. For the restaurant. Hard to get reservations.”
“Ohmygod.” She stumbles back and snatches her trench coat off the floor. Her cheeks flush bright red as she fumbles her arms into the sleeves. “When you invited me for dinner I thought…”
“You thought right. I want this.” Oh so badly. “Only just not yet.” None of this is coming out right. “I mean, we definitely can after dinner. In fact, I insist on it.” I stop speaking because obviously what’s coming out of my mouth is completely wrong. “I thought we could talk about things over dinner and then we can come back here afterwards.”
“What’s there to talk about? These last three weeks I’ve realized I hate being apart from you. If what we have is friends with benefits, then that’s okay with me.”
Time is ticking away and I can feel the pressure building. Friends with benefits? The conversation we need to have is so much more complicated than what we have time for.
“Why don’t we talk about this over dinner? I found a great new place…” I stare at her as she overlaps the edges of the trench coat and fastens the belt. “Do you have anything more to wear?”
She glares at me. “I wasn’t planning on going out. I thought we could order in. You know…after.”
“A great idea for another time.” I cast about, thinking fast, which is hard with a brain scrambled by lust, before heading into my closet and emerging with a black V-neck t-shirt and a pair of running shorts. “How about you wear this?”
Shit. The condo is empty. Emma is nowhere to be found. I rush out the door and catch her as she approaches the elevator.
“Don’t go. I really want us to have dinner together. I need to talk about us. Please just put this on and let’s go eat.”
“I don’t know why I thought I could do this.” She blinks rapidly while sucking in a deep breath. Letting it out seems to calm her somewhat. Her finger stabs at the elevator down button.
“Please just come with me to dinner.” I feel no shame in begging. “I swear it will be great.”
“Fine.”
Only as she strips off the trench coat right there in front of the elevator, provoking my second heart attack of the night, I can tell it’s not fine. While I silently groan at how perfectly amazing her body looks, she raises her arms over her head and slips on my t-shirt. The hem hits her at mid-thigh, and despite the baggy fit, I’m more turned on than ever. Something about the sight of her in my shirt, knowing what’s underneath, knowing that she’d dressed provocatively to seduce me, awakens my possessive streak. She slips on the shorts next and covers both with her trench coat. For some reason she appears less confident now that she’s fully dressed than when she stood brazenly half naked in the hallway.
I reach for her hand, intending to communicate how I feel, but she shoves both hands into the coat’s pockets and gives off a standoffish vibe. When we reach the sidewalk, I turn her to the left.
“You’re going to love this new place,” I say.
“Sure.” But she doesn’t relax one bit. Nor does she accept the elbow I offer her. “I like trying new things.”
“I’m so glad to hear you say that.”
We stroll in silence. The retail space I found for her new venture is a block and a half from my condo, in a building that houses an art gallery, wine shop, and shoe store. The closer we get, the more my excitement builds, until I’m jittery with it.
Emma shoots me a look. “Are you okay?”
“Fine.”
“You seem nervous.”
“Too much caffeine.”
“I never imagined that could be possible with you.” The exchange has served to further ease the awkwardness between us.
“What can I say, every man has his limits.” As we near the retail space, I slide my fingers around her arm and slow her down. “I noticed this store earlier and I wondered if we could pop in for second.”
“Sure.”
She has no idea what I’m up to as I pull open the door and gesture her inside.
“Surprise!” Two dozen people call in unison.
“What’s going on?” She sounds more suspicious than delighted as she surveys the assembled guests. “Why is everyone here?” Her voice doesn’t rise above a whisper even though I’m the only one close enough to hear.
“Your friends came to celebrate with you on your new venture,” I say, forcing enthusiasm into my tone. “Isn’t it great?”
“What new venture?”
“It’s your new store.”
She stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. “My what?”
“Vintage Vignette.”
“I don’t understand.” She looks completely lost and almost on the verge of tears.
“It’s just like you talked about that day at the store,” I explain. “Something brand new that’s all yours.”
Her gaze roams over the bare retail space, but I don’t think she’s cataloging the possibilities. “All mine?”
“What do you think?” Her mother breaks free of the crowd and comes toward us. “Isn’t it great?”
Emma scans the dusty wood floors, bare walls, and the industrial vibe of the exposed ceiling. “I guess. I mean, sure. Of course.” Her expression is unreadable for a second before an overly bright smile forms. “It’s a lot to take in.”
“It was all Zach’s idea.”
Emma glances at me. “You did this?”
“I did it for you.”
“It’s wonderful.”
Except from her demeanor, it’s anything but. For the last three weeks I’ve been dreaming about this moment. Why then, do I feel as if I’ve just done the absolute wrong thing?
30
Emma
What the actual heck is going on? Everyone in the space is staring at me, waiting for my reaction. My mom is beaming as if it’s Christmas morning and she’s eager for me to see what Santa has brought. Meanwhile, my stomach has turned inside out and I’m convinced I’m going to hurl at any second.
It’s a nightmare.
A store?
“But I don’t have time to do this and manage the antique stalls,” I say.
My mom smiles reassuringly. “I’m going to handle the stalls.”
“I thought Dad wasn’t on board with a new store. How can I afford to do this?”
“Zach helped figure that part out.”
“How?”
“With the help of the business plan you did in college, we secured the funding and found this space.”
“My old business plan from college?” I’m trying to wrap my head around all this without much success. “Where did you find that?”
“It was in the attic. I remember at the time thinking it was such a professional presentation, and then Zach came over and we talked about how you’d envisioned making changes to our store before we knew the building had been sold.”
Please. Please. Please tell me no one has signed a lease on this space. It might be humiliating that everyone came here for no reason, but better that than me getting in over my head.
“Funding.” My voice sounds very small. “I don’t understand. I can’t afford to start a new business.”
Mom squeezes my hand. “Zach found an investor for you. We’ll go over the details later. We wanted you to be surprised.”
“I’m surprised.”
What could possibly have possessed Zach and my mother to go behind my back and make such a huge decision? My skin feels clammy. I’m on the verge of hyperventilating. I can’t do this. Why would either of them think I want this huge responsibility?
“Are you okay?” she asks me.
�
��I’m overwhelmed.”
“What do you think of the space?”
“It’s fantastic,” I admit, and some of my panic leaches away. “But I don’t know how I can afford to do this.”
“It’s affordable. You are going to do great here.” From her delighted expression, I can see she believes in me and in my vision.
The question is whether I do. “It’s so far away from our old store.”
“It’s a big change,” my mom says. “We’re just going to have to get used to it.”
“Our old customers won’t come up here to shop.”
“You’re going to get a whole new clientele,” Zach says. “The kind who have money and love to spend it.”
They’ve countered my every excuse with optimistic answers. It’s not that far from where we live. Gabby and Brynn have the same commute and it doesn’t bother them one bit. As for the customer demographic being different, Gabby is right that people will pay more for items that are cleverly staged.
Mom pulls me toward a group of well-wishers. She’s so excited about Vintage Vignette that there’s nothing for me to do but smile and pretend to be just as enthusiastic while inside I’m cowering. I can’t bear to look around at the large empty space. It’s overwhelming. Wood floors creak beneath me as I accept congratulations for something I haven’t done and probably won’t do.
Needing a break, I ease toward the edge of the crowd, putting the distance of the space between me and Zach. He’s watching me with somber eyes. I’m not sure if I want to thank him or beat him to a bloody pulp. What has he gotten me into?
Gabby approaches with two glasses of champagne and hands one to me. “You look like somebody just dropped a piano on you.”
“What were Zach and my mom thinking? I can’t do this.”
“When Zach brought me into the loop and asked me to help him find a place, I told him he’d lost his damn mind. You can’t force someone to go into business no matter how perfect the business plan or excited your cousin is to have you right down the street from her soon-to-be opening speakeasy.” Gabby’s eyes twinkle, but there’s determination there as well. “You do realize you can do this, right? That you’re going to be absolutely fabulous at it? Have you seen the photos that Zach used to pitch the idea to the investor?”
