by S. J. Bishop
Suddenly, my head snapped up. My eyes opened. "Shit!" That was probably it. She was still pissed about the way I'd practically shoved her out my door the first time we were together. To think that I'd almost blown things with that fuck-head move. Offering her money like that? Emma was way too classy for money. She’d probably left in such a rush today because she didn't want to wait for me to kick her out again. Goddammit! I had to show her that she wasn't just another one-night stand. Not anymore.
"Hey, Jackson, you're all set," Louis said, tossing me my keys.
"Thanks, man," I said, rising from the chair.
"How'd you break that window anyway? Someone throwing stones at you after you missed a pass?" He grinned and rang me up.
"Not quite." I pulled some cash from my wallet and saw the flash of his wedding ring as he handed me back my change. "How long have you been married now?" I asked. Not too many guys on the team were married.
"Fifteen years next Tuesday."
"Fifteen! Shit, that's great. Hey, can I ask you something? Hypothetically speaking."
Louis raised an eyebrow. "Shoot."
"Well, say you and your wife had a fight. What would you do to patch things up? Flowers? Are roses any good?"
Louis grinned at me. "Depends on how deep into the dog house you are," he said.
"Oh, I'd say about yea high," I replied, holding my hand in the air a foot over my head.
"In that case," Louis said. "You need to get yourself to a jewelry store, quick."
"Jewelry, huh? Anything specific?"
"You know her birthstone?" I thought about it a second and shook my head. "No idea," I said.
"In that case, go with diamonds. You can afford it. A nice set of diamond earrings, and you'll be out of that dog house in no time."
Louis' advice made sense to me. After all, diamonds were a girl's best friend, right? I got into my newly fixed car and headed toward the only jewelry shop I knew of off the top of my head. Regalia. I made the left onto Post Street and entered the flashy store, not even caring that everything in it was bound to be overpriced. It would be worth it if it fixed things with Emma. A concierge asked me what I was looking for, and when I said diamonds, he directed me up the red spiral staircase to the second floor.
Case after case filled the walls and aisles. Rubies, emeralds, sapphires. It was like walking through a magnificent maze of bling. A man in his forties with salt and pepper hair came out from behind a counter. He wore a fancy suit and tie. "May I help you?" he asked. I saw the recognition in his eyes. He was a sports fan.
"Thanks. I'm looking for diamonds."
He smiled. If they worked on commission here, I'd probably just made his day.
"Right this way, Sir."
I followed him to a section of the store that glittered like a thousand twinkle lights contained in glass cases. He stepped behind a counter and pulled open a drawer, removing a tray.
"Now, here we have a lovely assortment of diamonds set in platinum. These lean toward the less traditional, but we have others if you prefer something a little more conventional. Frequently, it depends on the girl it's meant for."
My heart stopped beating. I stared at the diamonds in front of me, trying not to freak out.
"Those are engagement rings," I murmured.
"Yes, Sir," the clerk said. He looked closer at me and frowned. "You said you were looking for diamonds, did you not?"
"Yes, but I meant some earrings. Maybe a matching bracelet."
"Oh," the clerk said, setting the tray down. "I do apologize. I'll just put these away, and then I'll be glad to show you something else."
"Wait," I said. The clerk paused with the tray in his hand. One little diamond ring caught my eye. It was a misshapen oval that looked remarkably like a football. "Let me see that one."
27
Emma
My phone rang, and I reached for it without opening my eyes. I'd called Sara and left her a message. I'd decided to tell her everything. I needed someone to help me figure this out.
"Hi," I said, relieved that she'd called me back so soon.
"Hi," Jackson said. My eyes shot open, and I looked at the number. Fuck me. Why had I assumed it was Sara?
"Oh, Jackson," I said. I'd spent the rest of the afternoon debating with myself about what to do. I didn't want to stop seeing him, but I didn't want to lose my job, either. And my father... the look he'd given me before he'd left my apartment had ripped a hole in my heart. I couldn't bear to see him look at me that way again. I wondered if my mother would really have been disappointed with me as he'd said. I thought, somehow, that she would have understood. She'd always been a romantic.
"What's up?" I asked, trying to sound casual. My heart raced in my chest. I started twirling my hair like a kid.
"I'm calling because I realized something important after you left this morning."
"Oh?" My breath grew erratic. I felt like I was on the verge of hyperventilating. Could Jackson have figured out my secret?
"Yeah, and I just wanted to say that I'm sorry. I'm a total idiot for not seeing it before."
"You are?" Just breathe.
"Yeah."
I waited on the edge of my seat for Jackson to call me out on everything. I was ready to confess it all just to hear his husky voice say my name one more time.
"I've never asked you out on a proper date."
"What?" If I'd had a mirror, I was sure my eyes would have had a crazy, bewildered expression in them.
"Are you free this evening for dinner? I thought we could go to Dorian's. Only this time, we'll do it right. No pretenses. I don't want to talk shop and neither do you. We're going there because we enjoy each other's company."
The raw honesty of his words escalated the moisture already growing between my legs at the thought of seeing Jackson again. I hungered for his touch. Thirsted for his lips. Without him, every part of me felt dry.
"I can't," I said. My face crumpled. I fought back the tears but didn't know how long I could keep them at bay this time. It was getting easier and easier to cry every time something went wrong in my life, and this was a big thing to go wrong. I had to find the perfect way to tell Jackson that I was pregnant or forget about ever seeing him again. If he found out I was carrying Bryant's baby from someone else, it would be over between us in a heartbeat.
"Why not?" Jackson asked, sounding crushed. I hated the hurt I heard in his voice, yet part of me was thrilled to know that hurt was because of me. That I could make him feel so much pain or joy was a mind-blowing realization.
I didn't answer because I was afraid I might confess everything right now and ruin the one chance I had to get it right. But was there really a way to tell him that wouldn't go bad? How do you tell the guy you love that you're carrying another man's baby?
Oh shit. Did I just say I loved him?
"Emma?" Jackson said. He was waiting for me to answer him. "Is it Bryant?" he asked, his voice darkening.
"Yes," I spurted, then realized how that must have sounded. "But not like that. Not like what you're thinking. I hate Bryant. I wish I never had to see him again."
"Good," Jackson said, sounding relieved. "Then I'll see you in an hour."
"What? No, I can't."
There was dead silence. "Jackson...? Jackson...?"
Shit. He'd hung up and was coming over. I didn't have time to think anymore. I washed my face and redid my make-up. My heart fluttered like a bird's wings as I ran around my apartment, trying to get ready. I slipped into a tight little dress that hugged my hips, and I put on my six-inch stilettos. I wasn't sure whether they would scare him or give him a good laugh.
An hour later, there was a knock on my door. I opened it to find Jackson standing outside with a bouquet of roses.
"Thank you," I stammered, burying my nose into their silky soft petals. Their scent was light and perfumey.
"I'm sorry I didn't do this sooner," he said, closing the door behind him.
Panic was setting in again, making
my heart flip and flop in all the wrong directions. I put the roses in some water, and when I turned back around, Jackson took my hand.
"You're so cold," he said, holding my hand to his mouth and breathing against it to warm me. Each exhale was like a soft painter's brush caressing my skin. My stomach churned, and suddenly the painter's brush turned sharp as guilt overwhelmed me.
"Is everything okay?" Jackson asked. "You look so pale. Are you still feeling sick?"
I shook my head. "No. I'm not sick." I took a deep breath and blew it back out. "Jackson, there's something I need to tell you."
He wrapped his powerful hands around my waist and drew me to him, kissing me. His candy-coated lips sunk against me like a diver going into deeper waters. Our tongues twirled together. The suffocating feeling I'd been having all afternoon lifted, and suddenly, I could breathe again. Fresh, crisp air rushed into my lungs, energizing me. A tingling sensation zipped and zapped up and down my spine, making my toes curl in my shoes. Jackson's hands pressed against the small of my back, digging into me like I was an excavation site. I dug back, my fingers sinking into his tight, sun-kissed skin. He purred like a lion as I massaged his backside, stroking him with my fingertips. Finally, he pulled away from me. His eyes fixed on me like a hawk.
"Now," he said softly, holding my hand to his chest so I could feel his heartbeat. "What was it you wanted to say?"
"What?" I asked. My head felt weightless. His breath scorched my neck, making me blister. "Oh, that," I said, never taking my eyes from his. "It was nothing important."
28
Jackson
Dorian's was packed. Of course they were. It was the best restaurant in San Francisco. I pulled out Emma's chair, trying not to let on how nervous I was. My stomach was in knots, but I refused to let it stop me from doing what I'd come here to do.
"I'm glad you could make it," I said.
She laughed. It was light and lyrical, like a bird’s song in the predawn hours. "You didn't give me much choice," she said.
"Are you sorry you came?" I asked.
"No," she said coyly. A rosy glow flared in her cheeks, and I thought she was even more beautiful now than when she was angry. Our waiter came by, and I ordered a bottle of Dom Perignon.
"Oh," Emma said. "I'm not really feeling up for drinking tonight. Do you mind if we just keep it virgin?"
I couldn't help the chuckle that escaped my lips. "Virgin is one thing I'm pretty sure we're not."
She blushed again, and I reached across the table, taking her hand. It was hot and moist, sweltering like a tropical storm. "Are you nervous?" I asked. She averted her eyes.
"No," she said, and I suddenly understood something.
"You're pussyfooting around something, aren't you? What is it? Is it the contract? Fine, let's get it out of the way. I'll stay in San Francisco."
Her eyes lit up. "You will?"
"Yes. On one condition."
"What?" she asked apprehensively.
I gulped. My heart suddenly exploded in my chest as I reached into my coat pocket. "I want—"
"Oh my GOD!" a shrill voice rose from a table near us. "It's Jackson fucking Vega!" A woman stood up, running toward us, and flung herself on me before I could stop her. Her lips were hard and dry, and she was using them to suffocate me.
"What the hell!" a man shouted. "Allison! Get off him!" A man in jeans and a Polo pulled her off me, looking embarrassed. "Sorry," he said to me. He turned back to the brunette who was still looking at me like I was the dinner she'd ordered. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he asked her. "We're on a date, for God's sake."
She looked at him, and I felt bad for the guy because she was never gonna look at him the same way she'd looked at me. Emma sat fuming across from me.
"Beat it, bitch," she said, her voice harsh and violent sounding. The brunette recoiled, casting one quick glance back at me before returning to her table with her date. The maître d' came quickly to our table, a frenzied look on his face.
"Mr. Vega," he began, "I apologize for that outburst. I will have that couple expelled from the restaurant immediately." He snapped his fingers, and several waiters rushed toward him.
"No, it's fine," I said. Emma glared at me. Shit. It felt like this whole evening was being ruined by some crazy fan. I wanted things to be perfect. "Let's just get out of here," I said. "We can pick up a pizza and go back to my place. What do you think?"
She beamed at me. "I think that sounds way better than snails and bird's nests. Double pepperoni?"
"Anything you want. And I downloaded a collection of John Wayne movies."
"I'd say you have a deal," she said, throwing down her napkin and rising from the table. The maître d' looked crestfallen that we were leaving. I'm sure having a superstar athlete dine at their restaurant was a real coup; it probably hurt to watch us go. I paid for our drinks and took Emma's hand in mine, heading for the door.
It was just bad luck that at that exact moment, Carter and Bryant stumbled through the door, drunk. They looked surprised when they saw us.
"See! I told you he'd be here," Bryant said. "It's his favorite goddamn restaurant. He brings all his dates here."
Carter didn't waste time. He stepped forward with his fists raised. I let go of Emma's hand, pushing her out of harm's way. Carter's fist collided with my jaw, and I fell to the ground.
"Carter!" Emma screamed, jumping between us.
"Emma, move," I cried, afraid she'd get hurt, but Carter stopped. I had to give him credit—he might be an idiot, but he'd never hit a woman.
"This doesn't concern you, Emma," Carter said. "You should just leave. Jackson's no good for you anyway. He fucked my sister after Zach's party last night and posted naked pictures of her all over the internet. He deserves what I'm gonna give him."
"Carter!" Emma screamed. "Stop being so goddamn stupid. Jackson was with me last night. All night. He couldn't have fucked your sister."
Carter hesitated. Slowly, he dropped his hands. I stood back up, grabbing hold of Emma. Carter looked so confused that I almost felt bad for him.
"That can't be," he murmured. "If it wasn't you, then who?"
I glowered at Bryant. Carter caught the look and turned his head, his eyes widening. Bryant quickly tried to divert his attention.
"I'd be careful with this slut," Bryant said to me. "Emma gets around, in case you didn't know. She's looking for some guy to pin her baby on. If you're not careful, she's gonna say you knocked her up next."
I couldn't listen to anymore of his shit. I jumped forward and punched his fucking nose.
29
Emma
I slid into the seat next to Jackson. His Porsche suddenly seemed much smaller than I remembered. I couldn't breathe. I opened a window to get some air. Jackson turned the car back off and looked at me.
"I'm sorry things got so fucked up tonight," he said. "I wanted everything to be perfect."
My heart was vibrating hard in my chest. It felt like someone was shoving it through a meat grinder.
"Let's just get out of here," I said, but Jackson seemed lost in his thoughts.
"Imagine the nerve of that guy. Talking about you like that. I should go back in there and kill him."
"No!" I screamed. "Let's just go. Please."
"Emma, he said you were pregnant and looking for some guy to blame! He deserves whatever he gets. When I tell Coach about this, he's gonna flip. One thing he hates more than fighting is liars."
"Jackson," I said. It came out in a squeak. My throat was dusty. I kissed him, hoping to calm him down. He smiled softly at me when I pulled away.
"I'm sorry," he said, and I relaxed a little. His face was calming down. The heat in his eyes was subsiding. "You know what... fuck it. I'm not gonna let Bryant ruin this evening. I came here to do something, and by God, I'm gonna do it."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a red velvet box. He opened it, and a brilliant diamond ring shone up at me. My eyes nearly blasted out of my head.
"It's true," I whispered. I felt like I was gonna be sick. I couldn't stop the world around me from spinning.
Jackson paused. "What?" It felt like everything was happening in slow motion.
"I'm pregnant." I gasped for air. My heart felt like it was going to explode.
"You can't be serious."
"I am," I said, tears running over my cheeks. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I just... I didn't know how."
He was quiet a moment. I think he was trying to do some math. "Do you know whose it is?" he finally asked.
I nodded. I could taste the salt from my tears on my tongue, drowning me. "Bryant's."
His eyes glazed over, and I knew I'd lost him.
"Get out," he said.
"Jackson, please, don't." I touched his hand, and he pulled away from me as if I'd burned him.
"I said get out," he growled. He sounded like a rabid dog about to attack.
"Can't you try to understand? I didn't mean for any of this to happen."
His head snapped toward me. His eyes were dangerous. "Understand what? That you lied to me? That you're a slut just like Bryant said you were?"
A loud cry rose from my throat, deep and painful. The grief invading me now was just as cruel as when my mother had died. "Get the fuck out of my car, Emma!" Jackson screamed again.
My head exploded in a barrage of sensations, all of them agonizing. I couldn't take it anymore. I opened his car and stepped outside. I never even saw the other car coming until it hit me. Then I was flying through the air, and everything went black.
30
Jackson
"Where is she?" Keith shouted. I looked up from the chair I had glued myself to and tried to focus.
