She wanted to watch the game on time. She needed this meeting to hurry up. She didn't even want to be here. Without thinking about it, she placed her hand over her stomach. She was here for her baby. She had to keep reminding herself this but when she did, she relaxed as much as she could.
She called her dad who called Justin to get the number. Emma was the one who called; her father all but forced her, citing the fact that she was an adult and needed to handle things on her own.
When her mother answered, she sounded like a stranger. There was a hesitant warmth in her voice that did absolutely nothing for Emma. She didn't feel guilty for hating her mother; she didn't feel a sense of longing at having missed so much with her mother. She felt... nothing at all. In a way, that was reassuring. The thing was, Emma was worried that when she saw her mother again, she would immediately forgive her and forget about the years they hadn't shared together. And that was the last thing Emma wanted. She didn't want to forget. She didn't want her mother in her life anymore, even if she needed her now.
"Don't immediately turn her down," her father insisted. "Just give her a chance to explain her side. If you don't agree with it, fine. But don't shut the door without really knowing."
She wanted to ignore her father's advice. She didn't want to give her mother any chance in hell to possibly come back to her life. But he made sense.
As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. Her mother was going to be her child's grandmother who wanted to be part of their lives. Why would Emma prevent that from happening? It wasn't her child's fault that her mother left, just like it wasn't Emma's.
"Emma."
Emma tensed when she heard the sound of the voice. Somehow, it was both familiar and strange at the same time. She recognized it but then she didn't. It was an odd sensation, like her past crept up behind her to be part of her present without her consent. She did not turn around to look at her mother; instead, she waited for the woman to walk over to her seat at the table. Which she did when she realized Emma would not turn and confirm her identity.
A flood of emotion went through Emma's body as she saw her mother for the first time in twenty-one years. Like her mother’s voice, she looked the same except a little aged. Her heart squeezed and she forced the tears that jumped into her eyes without her consent to be kept at bay. She didn't know why she felt this emotional over seeing this woman. This woman had left; if anything, she should be the one crying. She should be the one emotional.
And she was.
To a degree.
This woman, Clarise, her mother, had short blonde hair with slight grey streaks running through the tresses. She had wrinkles by her eyes, indicating that she smiled a lot. Which made sense, since Emma had heard she had had a family after Emma, a family she could handle, a family she actually wanted. She was dressed sharply for a woman her age - white pantsuit ironed so there were no wrinkles, and a black shirt underneath, offering a nice contrast. She had pink lip stick on her lips and her nails were pink and manicured. Her eyes, unlike Emma's, were blue instead of hazel. She had her father's eyes, a trait she liked. She loved her father's eyes. They were honest and open.
Her mother's right now we're wary but hopeful. Like she wasn't quite sure what to expect.
"Thank you," she said finally in that same strange, familiar voice. "For calling me. For meeting with me."
"I really didn't have a choice," Emma said before she could stop herself. That sounded harsh, even for her. She pressed her lips together and looked away. "Mom, I'm pregnant."
"Oh." Emma couldn't decipher that word so she didn't try. "Are congratulations in order?"
"Yes, they are," she snapped.
Her mother recoiled slightly. Emma clenched her jaw. She would not let this woman make her feel guilty, even if she did feel it squirm around in the pit of her stomach.
"It wasn't as though I made a mistake," Emma said through gritted teeth, her eyes narrowed as she looked at the woman who looked so much like her it was scary. And unnerving. "A mistake I planned to walk away from."
Her mother gritted her teeth and looked away, and for a second - just a quick second that vanished as quickly as it had come - Emma felt herself flinch internally at what she had just said. But why should she care if she offended her mother? Why should she care about doing anything that might potentially hurt her? What she did to you and to Dad was way worse than a few words aimed to hurt.
Even so, a voice pointed out softly, gently, almost as though it understood where Emma was coming from, but not enough to let her get away with it. That does not give you the right to be disrespectful. You cannot allow other people to dictate your own behavior. Then you become a victim. And that's the last thing you want to be.
Emma pressed her lips together. She could admit that the voice was probably correct but that didn't mean that Emma was going to apologize, either. She would just watch what she said from this point on.
"I called you here because I had my first appointment a couple of days ago," Emma began but Clarise jumped in.
"Really?" She seemed genuinely interested. "How did that go?"
Emma had to bite her lip to keep from sharing everything with her mother. She was surprised by the incessant desire to share, but maybe that was because she was excited now, to be a mother, and she wanted to share the news with everyone.
"The baby and I are healthy," Emma said with a nod. "Anyway, the doctor wanted a family history of both of my parents. I thought Dad's would be enough but since I have... access to you and since you can tell me, they insisted I reach out to you to get one. For the baby."
"Oh." Her mother's eyes dropped to the surface of the table. Emma refused to feel sorry for her. Who knew? There was a good chance she was being manipulated. Clarise was good at pretending to care when she obviously didn't. "So you didn't want to reach out yourself?"
"No." Emma did not flinch when she said the word. She did not look away. When her mother picked her eyes up, Emma continued. "You cannot possibly expect me to want to reach out to you when you walked out on me and Dad because it was too hard for you. We survived, Mom. Without you. You were supposed to be there." She immediately stopped herself. The tears sprung up unexpectedly, and she knew if she kept talking, they would fall.
"Oh, honey," she replied, reaching for her daughter's hands, but Emma yanked them away.
Emma wasn't going to allow this woman to touch her, to feel sorry for her. Not after what she did. She didn't want sympathy, she didn't want this woman to feel sorry for herself due to the decisions that she made.
"Please don't," Emma said, trying not to snap at her but wanting to be as firm as she could. Clarise might just see her as a child, as Her child, which meant she might assume that she could tell Emma what to do simply because it was her biological right to do so. The problem was, Emma did not believe biology dictated authority and she wasn't about to let her mom think that either. That might work for her new children, for her new family, but it wasn't going to work for her.
Emma took a breath and locked eyes with her mother. "I'm only here to get your medical history," she said. Then, in a softer voice, "I'm only here for the baby. I'm not here because I want to have a relationship with you."
Her mother's eyes filled with tears but she kept them at bay. She nodded her head, rubbing her lips together.
"I suppose that's a fair statement," she murmured. "What I did to you and your father -"
"I don't want an apology," Emma said, almost annoyed.
"I wasn't going to give one," she replied, pushing her brows up almost as though to challenge Emma. "What I did... it wasn't right. I'm not going to apologize for it because at the time, I did what I thought was the best thing for me. Does that make it the right thing? Absolutely not. I know that now. But I want to make it right."
"So," Emma said, furrowing her brow, trying to understand her mother through the confusion. "You know you did something wrong but you're not sorry for it?"
"I'm not sorry for anything I
do," she said. "That makes me selfish, I know. But it also makes me honest and present. You were... you ARE my first child. And having children after you makes me appreciate just how special the first child is. As I hope you'll realize without making the same mistake I did." She reached out and grabbed Emma's hand, clutching it in her fingers before Emma even had the chance to pull away. "Thank you for being willing to call me even after all I put you through. I am aware that you did so not because of me but because of your unborn child. I'm happy to give you any information you need but..." She paused, rubbing her lips together. "It would make me extremely happy if you would consider allowing me to be part of your life again."
Emma wanted to say no. But she stopped.
'The baby,' a voice pointed out. 'This is for the baby.'
It took everything out of her but she nodded her head. "Fine," she said. "I'll be open to it when that time comes."
Chapter 17
The Gulls won both away games and brought back the series to Newport tied. Playoff series were best four out of seven so each team had an opportunity to take the lead. Emma needed it to be Newport. Now that they had arrived at the playoffs, she didn't want them to get out so soon.
They deserved to be there. Kyle, especially, deserved to be there.
He had been on fire the last two games, managing to stay out of the penalty box for the most part, except during one instance where he hooked a Sun player after the guy chopped at his hands. Of course, the ref only picked up on the retaliation so Kyle got the box. This completely pissed off Emma because the Gulls announcers as well as the general announcers for NBC and the NHL Network all said Kyle Underwood had some of the best hands in the league. Every time Emma heard someone say this, she smirked, because he definitely had the best hands she was aware of. But he was a star player and it was the refs' job to call incidental contact on a skill player, especially from a fourth liner like Gobb, who was trying to get Kyle off the ice. Which he did. Kyle shouldn't have to defend himself, though he would without hesitation. Like Alec Schumacher - his line mate - Zachary Ryan, and James Negan, he could definitely handle himself on the ice, even though the Gulls had fighters to defend them.
Kyle was gone four days - two games up in Sacramento, and there was usually a day between games to give the players a rest.
Kyle came back the fourth day and Emma waited for him in the John Wayne Airport baggage pickup. When she saw him, she ran toward him, throwing her arms up and jumping into his arms. He laughed, pulling her close.
She was never like this. She didn't tend to miss him when he was gone, knowing he would come back. But this break, this time away, put things into perspective. He had a game tomorrow night, a game that was incredibly important. If they could win it, they could build confidence going into Game 6.
But for now, that game could wait. Everything else could wait. She wanted to be around him, to feel him touch her and kiss her. To feel him move inside her. To hear him laugh and to hear his stomach rumble with hunger. To hear him softly snore next to her.
"I didn't expect such an affectionate greeting," he murmured in her ear, pulling her close to him even more, somehow balancing his backpack and his luggage while carrying her.
"Should I refrain?" Emma murmured against his throat, her eyes sparkling. This felt nice. This felt good. She was never a big proponent of public displays of affection but Kyle made everything... different.
"Never," he told her and she felt her heart clench together with happiness.
They headed straight through the sliding doors without picking up any luggage - the benefits of flying on a private jet - and headed straight for the parking lot. Emma's father had dropped her off here with a backpack and nothing else, which meant Kyle was her ride.
"I probably should have told you before," Emma said with a grin as she let Kyle open the passenger door for her of his sleek silver Mercedes Benz. She slid into the leather seat and clicked on her seatbelt as Kyle sat in his chair. "I planned to spend the night tonight. If that's okay. I know you guys have a day off so I figured it was the perfect time to take advantage of you." She winked.
"I'm not complaining," he told her with a grin before placing his right hand on her thigh.
"I missed you," she told him, her tone genuine. "I'm really proud of how you played, Kyle. You really stepped up. You had the game winner in Game 3. You were on fire." From the corner of her eye, she saw Kyle flush red and didn't actually respond. He hated being complimented due to the discomfort he felt but he never told her not to do it. It did make him feel good after all, and that was her job as his girlfriend. To make him feel good.
"I really stepped up my training," he told her, throwing a glance at her over his shoulder.
"You can tell," she said, nodding with enthusiasm. "But that asshole who chopped your hands totally should have gotten a two-minute."
"You saw that?" he asked with a wry grin.
"Of course I did," she told him. "I know you're a pest but you don't go out of your way to retaliate unless someone did something first."
The drive to his home in a quiet gated community just before PCH was relaxed. The windows were rolled down and the Southern California breeze that seemed a permanent fixture in Newport Beach - especially close to the ocean - was tangling Emma's blonde hair. But she didn't care. It felt good. She was driving through her favorite place in the world with her favorite person in the world.
Well, two favorite people in the world.
When they pulled up to Kyle's modern town home - white paint and a dark roof - they got out of the car. Emma watched him pause in order to breathe in the familiar air and let out a huff of relief at being home. She smiled. She was glad he was home as well.
They walked through the attached garage and into the carpeted hallway that led either to his tiled kitchen on the right or to his living room on the left. Without warning, Kyle tossed Emma over his shoulder and headed left, passing the living room to head to the staircase that led up to the bedrooms.
She squealed, feeling the blood rush to her head as she clutched Kyle's shirt tightly between her fingers. She wasn't sure if it would make a difference, but at least it gave her something to hold onto. She laughed as he led her up the stairs and into his bedroom before placing her gently on the bed.
"I guess with you being pregnant, we don't have to use condoms anymore, do we?" he asked with a small grin on his face.
Emma's mouth dropped. "Did you just make a joke, Kyle Underwood?" she asked, not bothering to hide her surprise. There was a teasing flint in her eye as well, just so he understood she wasn't trying to make fun of him.
"What can I say?" he asked, slowly making his way over to Emma. He hunched down, hopping into the bed and positioning himself over her so he could look over her. Emma felt her heart start to race as she looked up at him with what could only be described as a feral smile. "I'm happy."
"Is that so?" she asked, slowly raising a brow, her lips curled up. "And what has made you happy?"
"You," he murmured before slowly easing his face down so his lips touched hers. "And this baby." Without warning, he slid down so he could place a gentle kiss on her abdomen. Emma didn't understand why but that single kiss set her body on fire.
It wasn't long before he slowly began to strip her free of the clothing she wore on her body. She bit her bottom lip, feeling her hazel eyes turn bronze at the way he was doing it. They had been together for nearly two years. She should be used to this; she should be used to him, but she wasn't. She didn't think she would ever be.
The air squeezed her skin together so goosebumps rippled across her bare skin. Her nipples hardened, especially when Kyle unclasped her bra and gently tugged the straps from her shoulders before tossing it over the side of the bed.
Instantly, his mouth found her nipple and her entire body seized up. She reached for her head, digging her fingers into his scalp to tug him closer to her skin. She loved when his mouth exploded her body, like he was Indiana Jones looking for the holy
grail. His hand grabbed hold of her cheek, tilting her head back as though to show that he was the one in charge right now, not her. She whimpered, not because she was pouting, but because she liked it. She could be so controlling in everyday life that when he decided to take charge and dominate her, she was keen to let him have his way with her.
When he finished with one, he moved to the other. He loved teasing her with his teeth, with his tongue, loved the feeling of her squirming underneath him. It was part of the reason why she wanted to take that away, to show he did not make her as weak as he did. But she couldn't help herself.
Without warning, and because she liked to remind him that even though he was on top, she was still in charge, she managed to flip him over so he was on his back and she straddled his hips. He let out a surprised but otherwise pleased grunt and immediately grabbed her hips like he owned them, like they were his. And they were. He helped position her over his cock and eased her over him, impaling him with his hardness.
Emma's eyes clenched shut and she threw her head back. Her mouth dropped open but no sound came out and she furrowed her brow, reveling in the feeling of Kyle stretching her to her core, demanding to be let in, pushing his way through all of her barriers.
When he was finally inside of her, she paused, not moving a muscle. He looked at her with slitted eyes, waiting for her to take charge. Waiting for her to let him know it was okay for him to move, to really feel her slickness coat him, armor him, drown his cock in her warmth. She felt him twitch in anticipation.
She slowly opened her eyes before looking at him, a feral smile slithering on her face. She could feel her eyes cloud over with lust, and she placed her hands flat on his chest, using him as a way to balance herself. And then, finally, she started to move.
He let out a groan, almost as though he was surprised how it felt, as though they had never had sex the past couple of years. It was a noise that caused her to get goosebumps all over her body and her nipples to harden. Kyle always grabbed them in his big hands, caressing them with his long fingers, almost as though he were trying to warm her up, to soften them, even though he loved looking at them when they were hard. He would see how he could stay away from them, like a dog waiting until his master told him to eat the treat sitting on his nose.
Positives & Penalties: A Slapshot Novel (Slapshot Series Book 4) Page 10
