by Claire Adams
“No, I don’t think I do,” I grumbled
It didn’t take me long to get dressed, and by the time I joined Emily and Nina in the living room, Brandon had arrived and was pacing nervously behind the couch. We shook hands, and as he looked to Nina for reassurance, I pulled him toward me and slapped him on the back saying, “Son, it’s all good. Relax.”
“Yes, sir,” he nodded solemnly, before letting go of my hand and taking Nina’s. I opened my mouth to say something, but before I could, Emily slipped her hand in mind and pushed me toward the door.
“Got everything, Dad?” Nina called, as we walked toward the truck.
“Yep!” I replied.
“Are you sure?” she asked.
“I’m sure!” I said, letting out an exasperated sigh. “Now will you let it go?”
“Okay, okay,” she said, holding up her hands in surrender. “Just trying to be helpful. Don’t shoot the messenger.”
I chuckled as I slid into the driver’s seat and stuck the key in the ignition. Emily shot me a questioning look from the passenger seat, but I just shook my head and waved her off. As we pulled out of the driveway, I was Jake and Kathy standing in their front yard smiling and waving. I offered a quick wave and a smile before I put the truck in drive.
“You’ve got some really nice neighbors,” Emily commented, as she smiled and waved. “We should invite them over for dinner sometime.”
“Uh, yeah,” I said looking away. “Sure.”
“Do you not like them, Blake?” she asked.
“Long story,” I said, glancing up at the rear view mirror and then back at the road in front of me. “I’ll explain later.”
When we arrived at my parents’ house, the driveway was empty, but cars lined the street. When we got out and began to unload the food and beer from the back of the truck, Brian and his friends came rushing out the front door and swept it all inside without a word.
“That’s weird,” Emily said, watching the posse of guys move back into the house.
“C’mon, let’s go around back and see what my dad’s cooked up,” I said, as I reached out and took her hand.
We walked around the side of the house, and as I flipped open the side gate, I could hear voices chattering excitedly. I held tight to Emily’s hand as we rounded the corner. She gasped when she saw the crowd of people standing around my parents’ backyard, sipping cocktails and looking around expectantly.
“Blake, what’s going on?” Emily asked, looking up at me and then back at the crowd. “Why are all of these — Mother? Daddy? Becca? KO? What are you doing here?”
“Ellie and Alan came to see us and asked us to come to the barbecue,” my mother said in a stilted voice. “We knew you might not want to see us, but we wanted to make an effort to see you.”
“But why here? Why now?” Emily asked.
“I think Blake can explain better than we can,” her father stepped forward and hugged her quickly before backing away again.
“Blake, what’s going on?” Emily asked, obviously confused by the entire scene. I nodded at my brother and when he hit play on his phone the first lines of Elvis singing one of the greatest love songs ever filtered through the patio speakers.
“Wise men say, only fools rush in, but I can’t help…falling in love with you.”
“Emily, I wanted everyone here today because I wanted the to hear me say how much I love you,” I said, as I faced her and took both her hands. “I’ve known you were someone special from the first time I laid eyes on you.”
“You mean when I lectured you about how you needed to help Nina improve her grades or the time I burned my house down and you rescued me?” Emily said with a wry grin, and the crowd laughed.
“I mean when you could have collapsed, and you didn’t; you took care of Howard, and you found a way to push forward despite losing everything,” I said, looking into her eyes. “You are strong and smart, and you inspire me to be a better person.”
“Shall I stay? Would it be a sin? For I can’t help…falling in love with you.”
“I love you, too, Blake,” Emily said, smiling warmly up at me.
“So, I thought it would be a good idea to have everyone we love here today,” I said, taking a deep breath.
“Take my hand, take my whole life too. For I can’t help falling in love with you.”
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the small blue box I’d been carrying for months as I dropped to one knee and said, “Emily Fowler, will you do me the great honor of agreeing to be my wife?”
I flipped the box open to reveal a simple round diamond set in a platinum band. Emily gasped and covered her mouth with her hands as she looked at the ring and then back at me in utter shock. I plucked the ring out of the box and held it out as an offering as I waited for her reply.
There were tears in her eyes as she nodded, and then she held out her hand so that I could put the ring on her finger. As I slid the ring on her finger, she whispered, “Oh Blake, yes. Yes, I’ll marry you!”
The entire crowd burst into applause and cheers as I quickly hopped to my feet and wrapped my arms around her waist to pull her in for a big kiss. Emily wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me back. When she pulled back to look at me, I could see her eyes shining as she smiled up at me.
We turned and faced the crowd of people who had gathered to celebrate our engagement, and together we raised our linked hands in a sign of victory. Nina stepped forward out of the crowd and wrapped her arms around both of us, then turned and yelled, “She said yes!”
The music burst forth from the stereo, and the party began in earnest as everyone surged forward to congratulate us on our engagement. It was heartening to see Emily’s parents genuinely happy for us, and I hoped that in the coming months, we’d be able to build some bridges that would enable us to keep them in our lives, but if not, then I knew we’d be fine.
“I’m proud of you, son,” my dad said, as he put an arm around me and looked over at Emily, who was now laughing with Nina and my mother as they flipped burgers on the grill together. “She’s a good woman, and she’ll be a great addition to this family.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I said, as I smiled and accepted a beer from my brother.
“Yeah, maybe she’ll like you enough to add another little Gaston to the mix,” Brian said, slugging my shoulder.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here,” I laughed. “We’ve got a teenager in the house now, and I’m not sure Emily is going to want to start over.”
“Not want to start over what?” Emily asked, as she joined us and took my hand. I raised it to my lips and kissed it before I replied.
“Start a whole new family after raising a teenager,” I said, smiling at her.
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” she grinned, then leaned in and whispered, “But we’ve got plenty of time to practice.”
“I love you, Emily,” I said, as I leaned down and kissed her.
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BREATHLESS BOX SET
By Claire Adams
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2016 Claire Adams
BREATHLESS #1
Chapter One
Every minute as we got closer and closer to the campus, I got more and more excited. My mom and dad in the front seat were talking quietly to each other, but I wasn’t paying any attention to them at all. I was too busy staring out the window, my heart pounding in my chest. I was moving into the dorms that day, starting my first year at college; it was the college of my choice—not my parents’ choice. I was more than ready to unload all of my stuff f
rom the car and let my parents go back home. I wanted to start making friends right away. The only doubt I had was whether my roommates would be any good. I hadn’t known anyone who was going to the same school as me, so when it came time for room assignments, I hadn’t had anyone to put on my list of preferred roommates.
All of my friends had gone for big-name colleges. Of course, my parents had insisted on sending me to a top-tier private high school, so it wasn’t any surprise to me when my friends started getting their acceptance letters from Harvard, Duke, and Yale. I had never wanted to go to any of those huge schools; I had applied to Brown because my parents wouldn’t let me get away with only applying to small, regional colleges. I had chosen one upstate—far enough away from my parents to avoid having to see them constantly, enough to feel like I was getting away from home, but not so far away that if I ran into trouble, I wouldn’t be able to get in touch with anyone or go home easily.
As we pulled onto campus, I caught sight of my mom making a displeased face. “I don’t know why you didn’t take the acceptance to Brown,” she said, looking over the back of the seat at me. “I think you would be so much happier there, Becky.” Mom gestured to the campus all around us.
“I like this school,” I told her firmly. It was an argument that we’d had more than a few times since I’d gotten my acceptance letter. “It’s small, I won’t be overwhelmed by a million people all around me… besides, it has a really good English program.” My dad shifted in his seat, his hands moving on the wheel.
“I don’t know how I feel about you making up your mind already; I think you should take a few classes and make up your mind only when you absolutely have to.” Dad glanced at me through the rearview mirror. I grinned.
“Well, if I change my mind, I have plenty of time to make good,” I said. I didn’t want to have to argue with either of my parents again, not while we were moving in, not while I was so excited to be starting my new life.
My dad found his way across the campus from the entrance closest to the Interstate, following the brightly-colored signs that were obviously not permanent. I drank it all in, ready to love my new home-away-from-home. I was going to college; I wouldn’t have a stupid uniform anymore, I would be able to choose who I hung out with and who I dated—it was freedom. Pure, unadulterated freedom. I was eighteen, which wasn’t old enough to drink, but considering what I had heard about college, that didn’t matter—and it hadn’t even mattered when I had been under eighteen. There had been plenty of parties at the high school I’d gone to and plenty of parents who were happy to look the other way when their darling children wanted to get smashed with their friends, as long as no one tried to drive afterwards.
“Becky, sweetie, are you really sure this is where you want to go?” I turned to look at my mom, who was staring out through the passenger side window with a look of distaste on her face. Glancing in the direction she was looking at, I saw a group of girls, all of them in bright white tee shirts, drenched to the skin, being chased by a bunch of boys with water guns. They were laughing, throwing water balloons blindly over their shoulders at the oncoming boys.
“Lighten up, Mom,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Wet t-shirt contests happen at every college and it doesn’t even look like this is a contest…even Brown has them, I’m sure.” Dad laughed,, and I thought to myself that at least for the moment I had him on my side.
He pulled into the loop next to the dorm building I was going to be in; it was packed with cars, absolutely crawling with freshmen and their parents, unloading boxes and crates. I had absolutely pored over the list of recommended and required supplies when it came with my orientation packet a few weeks after I sent my acceptance back to the college. One good thing about my parents’ wealth was that they were absolutely insistent that everything I had be new, including the computer that I would be working with. My parents had gotten everything for my dorm room, and I had thought to myself more than once that I would probably be the most relentlessly accessorized freshman in the dorm.
Earlier that day, the housekeeper, my parents, and I—with some help from the landscapers—loaded up the car with everything my parents thought I would need to have. Mom had bought me just about everything that could possibly make an extra-long twin bed comfortable: a heated mattress pad, a thick, comfy down alternative comforter, huge pillows, a duvet, a few sets of sheets and pillow cases that I picked out to go with what she had decided was my “color palette.” She had also purchased prints of all the paintings I loved and all kinds of decorative touches. I knew my mom wanted my room to look “civilized,” and I went along with it—it was nice, and I knew my room would be comfortable, but it seemed a bit much, particularly when I knew that most of the other kids in the dorms with me would be making furniture out of cinder blocks and shipping pallets.
Dad parked the car and shut off the engine, and I threw myself out of the backseat, barely managing to get the seatbelt off before I shoved the door open and thrust my legs out of it. One of the staff—obvious in his color-coded t-shirt and khakis—came over and greeted my parents. “Welcome, welcome! Did you guys have a decent drive here?” He got my name from Dad as Mom and I went to the trunk to get it open.
The RA shook Dad’s hand and came over to me. “Here is your room key, Becky. Just as a heads up, the dorms are going to be open for today and tomorrow—the day after that you should have your ID card, and you’ll have to use the card reader like everyone else.” I nodded that I understood and took my dorm and room keys from the guy; I barely even noticed his name.
“How are the dorms set up?” Mom was looking around and I saw what I recognized as her “suspicious face.” Oh God, she’s going to start an argument with someone else. “I mean, I’m an old fashioned woman; I want to make sure that my daughter is going to be safe.” The RA laughed.
“Of course, absolutely. I totally get where you’re coming from.” I picked up a basket full of stuff and gestured for Dad to follow me into the dorm building while the RA talked to Mom about the format of the dorms. I honestly didn’t care how the dorms were set up; obviously they wouldn’t have me rooming with a guy—which I knew was Mom’s fear. Whether I got along with my roommates or not, they would all be girls. I knew, too, that the rules for the freshman dorms were way stricter than the rules for the upperclassman dorms and also the rules for the various frats and sororities on campus. I had my itinerary; I knew there was going to be an orientation meeting with the RA for my floor later on where they’d give me not only the rules of the dorm itself, but also the rules for my floor.
“This doesn’t look too shabby,” Dad told me as we walked through the double doors from the courtyard. The college had been around for a while, and the dorm building we were heading into was one of the oldest ones on campus. The brick exterior was cozy-looking and warm, while the interior had apparently been gutted and refurbished at some point in the last twenty years; there was a lingering fresh paint smell in the lobby and the floors were linoleum, but at least a nice enough pattern that it didn’t look cheap. The chairs and couch in the lobby looked like refurbished old pieces—good enough for the kind of wear and tear that a bunch of rowdy teenagers would put on it.
We carried our loads up to the fifth floor where my room was. The hallways were carpet instead of linoleum, much quieter than the lobby. People were streaming in and out constantly, moving like heavy traffic, and I smiled at everyone who greeted me—especially as we got closer and closer to my room. These were the people I would probably be spending all my time with, and I wanted to make a good impression. I wanted to make friends as quickly as possible.
My parents had had the option, when I signed up for the school, to pay a little bit more for this dorm versus the other Girls Freshman dorm. The benefit to that was that I had a tiny little bedroom to myself, with a common area that I shared, along with a split bathroom. One of the other Girls Freshman dorms was a more classic design—with two shared bedrooms complete with bunks, a floor shower, and half-bathro
om. I was glad my parents had at least acted fast enough for me to get into the better dorm, even if they didn’t agree with my choice of college. While I was all about having the college experience, having at least a little bit of space to myself was definitely a good idea.
The common area of the dorm room had some basic furniture in it: a couch, a couple of chairs, a solid-looking coffee table and an entertainment center. The floors were tough, but the carpet was still fairly soft—and I could see that it was the kind that was designed to be easy to clean. Everything was absolutely clean, and neat, and I looked around with a happy smile. My key fit into one of the two doors in the room just fine—the orientation paperwork had said that it was possible that I’d have trouble with the tight locks, but the key turned and the next thing I knew, I was looking into a small, empty room. “Why don’t we get everything up here in a nice, neat pile, and then you and your mom can start sort out what goes where?” I laughed at Dad and nodded my agreement. We both knew that he meant Mom was going to set everything up the way she thought was best—and I’d let her do it.
Mom caught up with us finally, and we started the process of getting all of my brand-new stuff up to my room while she chatted with Dad about her overall much better impressions of the college after talking to the RA. I was surprised that we were able to get everything up to my room in only a few trips—especially considering how much Mom had decided was “absolutely necessary” for my survival. I rolled my eyes to myself, carefully turned away from both of my parents, as Mom started ordering Dad and I around, telling us where to put things, how to hang the window treatments, and where the art prints should be.
Fortunately for me, just as I was beginning to lose my patience, my new roommate arrived. “Oh! You must be Becky!” she said, coming into the room. She was a short, curvy brunette, with big, green eyes I couldn’t help but envy.
