by Lila Younger
“Crap! My phone!” I quickly pick it up, but it’s truly submerged. I hurry to the side and the Jeep drive flips me off as he heads to the drive-thru, but whatever, I have more important things to think about. I try to dry my phone, rubbing it against my coat. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do next. Power it off? I push the button, but when I try to power it off, the touchscreen doesn’t respond. My heart sinks like a stone. I’ve never backed up any of my stuff because it was too expensive to do cloud storage. Nate’s number is lost, this time for good.
The universe just gave me its answer.
Nate
“You’re acting like an asshole,” my secretary informs me. She’s been with me for almost ten years, so I guess she has earned the right to talk to me this way. “People come back from vacations relaxed and happy, but you’re worse than before. Whatever’s going on in your life, you can’t take it out on me.”
With that she slaps down the contract and stalks out of my office. She’s right though. Damn if she isn’t right.
When Emilia first left, I thought that I’d be a little hung up on it, but that would be that. I mean, it was just sex. We’re compatible, that part is undeniable, but our situation is a whole other story. I thought we could never work out. After all, Emilia is still a student with her whole life ahead of her. I’m at the point in my life where I’ve already established my life, I know where it’s going and I’m not about to take my time on things that matter. It would be unfair to do that to Emilia. And so I decided the best thing was to let her go.
Now I’m finding out that I can’t live with it. It’s been two weeks of hell. The only thing in my thoughts is Emilia, her sweet face, her bubbly laugh. It taunts me in my sleep, reminding me of all that I held in my hands and then stupidly let go. My heart feels strange, like it’s trapped in a vice, and nothing I can do seems to shake it off. The feelings I’ve developed for Emilia are stronger, far stronger than I thought, and I can’t be without her. I just don’t see a future there. She’d somehow come into my heart, my soul without me knowing, and now she’s taken it with her.
And now my misery is spreading, affecting my work, my employees, and if I’m not careful, it’s going to reach to my clients. Everything I built up burned in a flash. Well, I didn’t care anyways. They were no longer important, they were no longer the center which my life revolved around. Still, this had to stop. I might not care, but I know that my employees have families to raise, children to send to college, parents to support in old age. If I threw everything away, they were the ones who would suffer, not me. So I have to get my shit together.
The only hangup I had was the fact that I gave Emilia my number and she hasn’t called. On the last day of spring break, I did something I never thought I’d do: I went to work. I couldn’t face the thought of her leaving, so I didn’t. If I had stayed, I might not have been able to let her go. Maybe it’s because of that that she hasn’t called.
But now, a week later, I discover that I can’t just give her space to come around, not if it means I’ll lose her. Not if it means she never knows what I feel for her.
There’s nothing left to it. I have to go see her. I have to look in her eyes, and lay it on the line. And if that means that she says no, then at least I’ll have my answer. At least I’ll be able to say: I did my best.
My decision made, I get up, grab my jacket and stride out of my office.
“Cancel whatever’s on the rest of my day,” I tell her.
“Are you taking care of whatever’s shoved that stick up your ass?” she says, raising her eyebrow.
“Something like that.”
“Good. Consider your schedule clean. Don’t come back until everything’s fixed.”
“About Shenzhen-”
“It’s fine. I can take care of it,” she says, waving me off. Her voice softens. “Take care of what you need to do.”
I nod and head out.
The drive to Emilia’s college is a few hours, but because it’s not rush hour, I’m able to make it in record time. Or maybe it just feels that way because I’m finally doing what I should have done all along. I know that Renee and Emilia are roommates. She tells me that she doesn’t mind because she likes to be with her friend, but now I’m cursing the fact. I don’t want to run into my daughter, not before I know how Emilia feels. So I pull up the app that lets me find her phone. It’s a holdover from the days when she’d sneak out on us every night. I don’t need to check it these days, but I’m glad that the program is still connected.
Surprisingly, her phone says she’s in New York.
I’d be pissed, but this means that she’s not going to be there.
A half hour later, I coast through the wrought iron gates of the college. Students are milling on the grounds, studying or chatting in clumps on the grass. I pass several old buildings, using my memory of moving Renee in to help me figure out where to go. The campus is sprawling, and I’m tapping impatiently on the wheel as students keep crossing the streets. Finally I pull up to a stately old brick building, covered in ivy with black shutters on the windows. My BMW sticks out like a sore thumb in the parking lot.
One of the students is smoking by the side door, and I slip through easily. No need to explain to the front porter what’s going on, another thing I’m thankful for. Everything’s lining up for me, and I take it as a sign. I take the stairs two at a time up, until I’m on the third floor. The hallway is empty of students, which makes sense since it’s class time.
I stop short. Could she be in class?
It never occurred to me that she wouldn’t be there. I falter in my steps, but I’m already almost there. She has to be here.
The two of them are in room 332, and I knock hard, my ears straining for some kind of sound on the other side. My hearts pounding in my ears, and I knock again. Suddenly the door opens. Emilia’s standing in the doorway, hair piled high on her head, wearing a black flowing maxi dress that flows over her curves. Somehow I’d forgotten what she did to me, how she could melt me with just a bat of her eyes. She looks effortlessly sexy, and I can’t help it, I cup her face in my hands and I kiss her. I kiss her with fucking everything I have for her. Her lips open for me, her mouth warm and delicious, and we step back into her room.
“Wh-what are you doing here?” she asks finally. “Renee’s not-”
“I came here to see you,” I tell her.
“I don’t, I don’t understand.”
I close the door firmly, and she goes to sit on her bed. The room is cramped, with two beds pushed on either wall and a window between them. Even if Emilia hadn’t sat down, I would have known exactly which side is hers. There’s an invisible line down the middle of the room. Renee’s side is a whirlwind of snacks and clothes and everything else. Emilia’s side is neat and tidy, her books stacked on her desk, her laptop perfectly in the center. Nothing out of place.
It takes only two steps for me to stride across the room to her. I sit down, taking her hand. It’s warm and soft and small, and I feel a surge of emotion deep inside of me.
“I came to tell you that I missed you,” I say gruffly. “That I can’t be without you Emilia. That I want you to be mine.”
It doesn’t get plainer than that. I watch as pink suffuses her cheeks, her eyes as wide as saucers. Hope stirred in them, and it gave me the encouragement to continue.
“I let you walk straight out of my life without a goodbye because I knew that you meant more to me after one week than any woman ever has. It was supposed to be for a week, and our circumstances were so different that I thought that it was best to say goodbye. Now I realize that I’ve been a colossal idiot, so I’m here. I’m laying it all on the line. I’m a father to your best friend, I’m a workaholic who until I was with you, never had a vacation, and we’re on completely different stages of life. But I don’t care about any of that. I love you Emilia, and if you can look past the differences and love me too, then I want to make you mine. Forever.”
Tears gather in h
er eyes, and for a tense moment, I wonder if she’s about to cry. Shit, did I go wrong there somewhere? She uses the back of her hand to wipe at her eyes, and when she looks up at me, she’s smiling.
“I thought that when I lost your phone number, that that was it,” she says, sniffling a little. “I was sure of it. I-I’ve been so unhappy. I haven’t even been able to study. And now here you are, you’re proposing to me? I can hardly believe it/”
She gives a laugh, one so lovely that I just know I can’t live without the rest of my life.
“So your answer is yes?” I ask her, just to be sure. The feeling in my chest is tighter than ever.
“Yes!” she says, throwing her arms around me. “Yes yes yes!”
And I feel that tightness in my heart letting go, releasing its grip on me at last, because she’s mine. Emilia is all mine, and I’m all hers. I’ll be here to provide for her, take care of her, she’ll never want or need a thing. Will our families, friends, and everyone around us whisper and judge? Sure, but with Emilia by my side, none of that shit will matter. All of those obstacles can be overcome, will be overcome. We had the luckiest beginnings, somehow in a city of eight million, we happened to meet that night, and we were both somehow in the right place at the right time.
“I love you Emilia,” I tell her. “I’m the luckiest man in the world.”
“I love you too Nate,” she whispers, pressing those beautiful breasts against me, her soft curvy body pressed against mine again. “I never want us to be apart again.”
Epilogue
Emilia
Two months later…
“Sorry,” I tell my lab partner. “I’m going to be sick.”
Before she can say anything, I’m tearing out of the room, running as fast as I can to the bathrooms. I barely just make it, throwing open the door to the stall and bending over as I give up the oatmeal I had this morning. I don’t know why the formaldehyde is getting to me these days. It never used to. Well, it’s more than just the formaldehyde. Almost everything makes me nauseous. At first I chalked it up to being worn out, but I have a niggling thought in the back of my head that tells me it’s something more.
I unravel some toilet paper to wipe my mouth, the diamond on my finger glinting in the harsh fluorescent lighting. What would Nate think if he knew?
My mind flashes back to when I said yes to Nate’s proposal. He’d immediately drove me over to the pitiful mall we have in town to pick out a ring. Even though he pointed out a bunch of flashy ones, I settled on a simple square diamond in a platinum band. I know that Nate comes from money, but that’s not why I married him, and a smaller diamond doesn’t mean he loves me any less. He agreed, but only on the condition that he would get to pick our wedding rings.
As soon as we came back, he wanted to tell Renee. I knew that it was coming, and heck, I felt terrible too for not revealing the truth to her from the beginning. We decided the best way to do it was together, so we sat and waited for her. It didn’t take more than two seconds for her to piece together the fact that her dad was here, my ring, everything. She stormed out of the room, and I haven’t seen her since. From what I hear, she’s rented a house for herself off campus.
As for Nate and I, he’s rented a place too, in order for him to be able to set up an office to work here during the weekdays. On weekends, we go to New York together and spend our time there. He took my wish seriously about never being apart again, and it makes me so happy. He never forgets these sort of details, and I honestly wake up every day feeling so happy and lucky to have him.
The only thing is that Renee refuses to talk to us. I feel sad for the loss of our friendship, but more than that, I’m sad for Nate. I know that he takes his job parenting seriously, especially since he’s trying to make up for those years when he was too busy on his job to make room for Renee. Every day I see that it guts him to have his only child cut off contact. I wish there’s something I can do, but every time I see her, she turns around and walks the other way. At this point, I feel that it would only be worse if I do say something to her.
I close my eyes, feeling lightheaded. After a moment, I heave again. Nope, not finished.
Once I’m able to lift my head again, I try and think how long it’s been since my period. You should have gotten Plan B, I scold myself. But I’d been too wrapped up to even think of going. Of course, I’m on birth control now, but it’s no good if I wasn’t that second night we spent together. Or the next. Or the next.
I wobble out of the bathroom stall and head to the paper towels. I rip off a long sheet and put it under the cool water. I’m feeling awful, and I should probably go get a test or something. The girl in the other stall flushes, and when she comes out, I see it’s Renee. She looks stylish and gorgeous as always, in a white turtleneck crop top and red leather skirt. As she washes her hands, we make eye contact in the mirror.
“You look like crap,” she says, matter-of-factly.
“Losing a best friend will do that to a person,” I say weakly.
“I thought you wouldn’t notice since you’re so busy fucking my dad,” she retorts.
I’m feeling pretty drained, but I muster the last of my strength. This might be my only chance to talk to her.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” I say to her. “I should have from the start. But remember our conversation in the car? About your dad dating?”
She blinks hard.
“How are you and Sebastian doing?”
She looks down, shaking her head. I pause for a moment. It looks like she’s hesitating on the brink of something, so I give one last push.
“We’re happy, truly happy,” I say, using her own words. “I just hope you can see that.”
Her head shoots up, and she bites her lip.
“I did say that, didn’t I?”
“You know, I’m never going to replace you Renee,” I tell her gently. “Your dad loves you a lot, and I do too. That’s still true, even if we also love each other.”
She looks at me, and she holds out her arms. I hold out mine too, and together we hug.
“I’ve missed you Em,” she tells me. “It sucks living on my own.”
“Nobody to steal Oreos from, huh?” I say, laughing and tearing up.
“Something like that,” Renee replies. “Whoa. Those pregnancy hormones are no joke huh?”
I freeze.
“Wait, you know? How could you know? I just found out!” I say, pulling back. She’s smiling at me, which is a huge relief, because we just made up and I know that a new sibling can be a really upsetting thing. Plus, it sort of really makes real the fact that her dad and I are doing the deed.
“Because you’re never sick. You’ve never been sick, not even after eating my cooking, and it usually takes everyone down. I mean, there’s a reason why I don’t even have a microwave.”
She claps and jumps, the enthusiastic Renee I know and love.
“I’m going to be an older sister!” she says, giving me another hug. “I’ve got so much to teach her!”
“And what if it’s a boy?” I ask her. “And don’t tell your dad, I don’t even know if he’ll be thrilled.”
Renee takes my hand.
“Of course he’ll be thrilled. I know he will,” she says. “You must be so excited.”
I nod at her, but then I shake my head.
“I’m more excited to have my best friend back,” I tell her.
Well, almost. I’m actually pretty damn excited to be pregnant too, now that I think about it, but having Renee back just makes things perfect. I can’t wait to tell Nate, to see his eyes widen in surprise and happiness. We’ll have to be extra careful now when we have sex, but I already know he’s going to be a great dad. I give my best friend another hug.
Yes. Everything is perfect now.
*****
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Other books by Lila Younger
What Her Dad Doesn’t Know
Boss of Me
Her Virgin Secret
Filthy Professor
Yes Sir
Bossing the Virgin
His Virgin Babysitter
Taking his Virgin
Buying his Virgin
His Virgin Ward
Enjoy the first chapter of my book His Virgin Ward!
Isabelle
Today just might be the most miserable day of my life.
Not the worst day, because that belongs to the day we lost mom, but it certainly is the most miserable. Chantal, and her friends poured a whole bottle of perfume onto my clothes during P.E and forced me to wear my gym clothes so I smelled like sweat all day. Then I got tripped while handing in my math test, and the whole class including the teacher died laughing. I mean, isn’t there a rule that teachers can’t do that sort of thing? There should be. And now it’s raining on my walk home. It just had to hold off another ten minutes, but nope, life decided that I really needed to have it today. I’ve got a hole in my sneaker, so of course, I’ve now got wet feet.
Ugh. I’m used to the other stuff, since I’m always the new kid, but I really hate having wet feet. At least I remembered to bring my umbrella this morning. I try and hurry home, where I’ll finally be safe from the run of bad luck I’ve been having. I’ve just made it into my apartment building when thing’s take another turn for the worse.
“Isabelle,” a wheezy smoker’s voice says to me.
I turn slowly and yep, it’s Ronald, our super. He’s a nice guy, with crinkled eyes from smiling so much and a cloudy wisp of hair. He’s always fixing up stuff here and there on the old place. He really likes to read, and we’ve had some good discussions for my English class. He says I remind him of his granddaughter. You really can’t ask for more than that, especially since our apartment building is crappy. But today I’m filled with dread because we’re late on rent again. Really late.
