by Lexi Ryan
“Why didn’t it work out?”
I lift my eyes to meet hers and think, Because I wasn’t good enough. Because my heart already belonged to another woman I couldn’t have, and Olivia knew it. But it’s too good of a day to ruin with a ride on the self-pity train, and I like the way she’s looked at me today, as if I’m some sort of Greek god who can do anything. It’s the way she looked at me when we first met and I bought her an ice cream cone. “It just didn’t work out.”
“Would you want to be with her if you could?”
I exhale heavily. “I don’t think it’ll ever be that simple, but yeah, I’d bend over backwards if I thought I could make it work with Olivia. Jazzy deserves to have a family.”
“She does,” she says, and her smile makes warmth bloom in my chest. “It might not look like what you’d imagined, but you’ve given her a family, and she’s a lucky little girl.”
“You should come to Seaside sometime and meet her.” The words are out of my mouth before I think better of it, and when she flinches and looks away, I regret them.
When she turns back to me, stress has taken away her easy smile. “I never thought I’d see you again.”
The words don’t seem out of context or take me by surprise, because I know exactly what she means. Two days ago, I thought Emma’s only place in my life was in my past, and now we’re talking about the future.
Chapter Eight
Emma
The group insists that I share a ride with them back to the hotel in the limo-bus they rented for the weekend. I’ve been in more than my share of limos, but never anything like this. Colorful lights race around the ceiling, and the seats curve around the interior in a big oval so they all face each other.
Everyone seems to be glowing from the time in the sun and maybe from the booze, and the ride back is relaxing and quiet. Mason plugs his phone into the sound system and plays some mellow tunes that make me wonder if he’s consciously or unconsciously serenading Bailey.
It’s such a relaxing ride that I’m almost sorry when we arrive at the hotel and I know it’s time to leave the group.
“Em has decided to join us tonight,” Keegan informs Mia when we all file into the hotel.
“That’s great,” Mia says. “I hope you don’t mind if the show’s a little risqué. It’s just that I’ve never done Vegas before and we thought it’d be fun to do something a little different.”
“I’ve never been to a show like that. I’m excited.” I look to Keegan. “I’m going to take a shower. Should I meet you guys at the show?”
“No, you should come to dinner with us too. Let’s just meet in the lounge,” Mia says before Keegan can reply. She looks around the group, all circled around us in the lobby. “Will two hours be long enough for everyone to chill for a minute and get ready?”
Chris and Grace grin at each other before nodding their agreement. “Two hours should be good,” Chris says.
“I’ll meet you down here later,” I say to Keegan, and he nods as he looks me over.
It feels so good to have his eyes on me again. I’ve never believed I was particularly beautiful. Intellectually, I know my weight doesn’t make me less beautiful. I can look at plus-size models and believe they’re gorgeous, but when it comes to me, I struggle with getting past the number on the scale and the size on my clothing tags.
When you’ve had an ideal body image hammered into your head your whole life, it’s hard to let that go in order to embrace something else. But during my summer with Keegan, I felt lucky to have this body. He looks at my curves like they’re the most beautiful composition of flesh, bone, fat, and muscle he’s ever seen. I’d forgotten that little flutter I get in my belly every time he puts his eyes on me. I’ve missed that—the thrill it sends through my blood and the confidence it gives me.
“See you later,” he says when he brings his gaze back up to mine.
“Later.” I wave goodbye, reluctant to walk away.
When I get to my room, I grab my phone from my purse to call Becky. She picks up after one ring. “Is this an okay time?”
“It’s perfect. Whitney’s napping.”
“How’s she doing?”
“Okay. It was scary for a minute, but Keegan was right. She’s where she needs to be. They think we might even get to go home tomorrow.” I hear her yawn. “How about you? Did you have a good day?”
“Actually, yes,” I admit. “I ended up spending it with Keegan after all.”
“Do tell,” she says. “A hot day in bed or…”
“Shut up. We’re just friends and we agreed to spend time together as that and nothing more.” I look around my suite, realizing how lonely it feels up here without the background noise of all of Keegan’s crew. “The people he’s here with are really nice. We just spent the day at the pool, and tonight we’re going to go to dinner and a show. Maybe somewhere else after?”
She sighs and sounds relieved. “I’m so glad you’re having a good time. For all my razzing, that’s all I really want.”
I bite my lip. “I haven’t told him, Becky.”
I can feel her hesitation across the line. “Do you think you should?”
“I’m afraid if I do, he’ll ask questions.” And I’m afraid if I lie, he’ll see through me and guess what no one else can know. “I’m having a good time, and I don’t want to ruin it. I’m not doing anything wrong.”
“You could just tell him the truth. You can trust him, right? Maybe then he’d give you the wild weekend you really deserve.”
I sigh. God, that sounds amazing. After spending the day next to Keegan, I love the idea of spending my night with him too—and not just dinner and a show. “Becky, you know it’s complicated. The fewer people who know the truth, the better.”
“I know,” she says. “I like Keegan, though. I might have only talked to him for, like, two minutes, but he seems like a good guy. I’ve known you for four years, and in that time, every time he came up in conversation, you’d get that dreamy look in your eye. I can’t help but want that for you.”
“He is a good guy. But what we have here is nice. We get to be friends again. That’s more than I ever dreamed, and I’m gonna take it.” Something tugs in my chest at those words. Maybe even five years later, my heart hasn’t given up on the possibility of being something more.
“Whatever you decide, just have fun tonight. You deserve it. You have to see the Motherbeast this week.”
“Don’t remind me.”
“I still think you should switch her protein powder out with that weight-gain stuff. At least then the torture wouldn’t be a total loss.”
I laugh. “You’re awful and I love you. I need to get in the shower. Give Whitney a kiss for me.”
“I will tell her Auntie Emma sends her love,” she says. “And you give Keegan a kiss for me.”
“You wish. I’ll see you in a few days, okay?” We end the call, and I strip out of my clothes and climb into the shower. I pay more attention to my body as I wash and shave, and take extra time moisturizing my skin after. I tell myself it’s only because I want to feel confident tonight. It has nothing to do with wanting Keegan to look at me just so, or with wishing he could be more than my friend.
Chapter Nine
Emma
Five Years Ago…
The café is bustling at lunchtime, and I’m immediately overwhelmed with the cacophony of silverware scraping plates, people talking, and servers rushing around packed tables. I scan the dining area and don’t see Keegan. My heart sinks, and I swallow hard, feeling foolish.
I liked him, and I wanted him to show up today. That’s a first for me. He’s not the only guy who’s ever shown interest in me physically, but it’s not common for guys who don’t know who I am to give me any attention. Guys like my hair and they like my curves, but I don’t fit a typical standard of beauty. My waist is too thick, my hips too wide, my breasts so full that if I’m not very careful in what clothing I choose, they can make me look even heavier than
I am. I take that whole curvy thing over the top.
Big girls like to use Marilyn Monroe as evidence that bigger women can be sexy, but the truth is that Marilyn probably never had a thick waist. Even though everyone likes to cite that she wore a size fourteen, that’d probably be a heck of a lot smaller in today’s sizes. Don’t get me wrong. I think she was gorgeous, and it is nice to see a woman who isn’t a waif admired for her figure. I just don’t think she actually gives curvy girls hope for their chance of being someone’s ideal body type.
“Can I help you?” the man behind the host stand asks.
Keegan stood me up.
“Um, no thank you.” I lift my chin and brace myself to walk out of the restaurant. I’m a grown woman. I’m successful and beautiful, and I don’t need to feel foolish about this.
I spin on my heel and step toward the door, and that’s when I see him. He’s standing in the waiting area watching me, his hands tucked into the pockets, his jeans hanging low on his hips. He’s wearing a white, lightweight button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows, exposing thick forearms that are tan from the summer sun.
“Why do you look so surprised to see me?” he asks.
“I thought you stood me up.”
He arches a brow. “Then clearly you must think I’m an idiot.”
All the worry and nerves tangle with this new warmth that’s gathering in my belly.
“I got us a table outside because it’s just a gorgeous day. I thought the fresh air might be nice, but if that’s not okay, I can talk to the host.”
I shake my head. “Fresh air sounds great.”
His lips quirk and his nostrils flare as he runs his eyes over me. I took a chance on this outfit, and now I’m glad I did. The pink sundress shows my arms, though I usually cover them. It fits tight around my chest but loose around my waist and hips. I paired it with strappy sandals and a floppy-brimmed hat and let my red curls hang wild down my back.
“Your necklace is pretty.” When his fingers brush the sapphire resting at the base of my neck, a warm buzz zips through me.
“Thanks. My father gave it to me before he died. It belonged to his mother. It was her something blue at her wedding, and he wanted it to be mine.” Our eyes lock for a long beat, and my heart pounds with nervous energy. “Not that I’m planning on getting married anytime soon,” I stammer. “I guess that’s why I wear it sometimes. Seems a shame to hide it away until a day that may or may not come.”
“Whenever you do get married, you’ll look beautiful. It’s easy to imagine you in white lace with that sapphire resting on your neck. But it’s hard to imagine you looking any more beautiful than you do today.”
My cheeks heat, and suddenly this morning’s wardrobe angst seems worth every piece of discarded clothing scattered across my closet floor. “You didn’t think I was going to show up in yoga pants and a tank top I was wearing yesterday, did you?”
“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with yoga pants. In fact, you’re welcome to wear them anytime you’re around me.”
Laughter bubbles through my lips and I shake my head. “You’re something else.”
He winks and steps past me to say something to the host, who leads us through the restaurant and outside. We’re seated on the patio that overlooks the sandy beach and rolling waves beyond. The weather is perfect.
“Order anything you want,” Keegan says when he leaves. “It’s on me. We’re celebrating.”
“What are we celebrating?” I ask.
“Our anniversary.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re joking, right?”
“Not at all. In five years, today will be the fifth anniversary of our first date. You’ll be giving me a sweet set of boudoir photos—and seriously, you shouldn’t be so nervous about that, I’m going to cherish them, but it’s okay because I’m going to be just as nervous about the gift I’m giving you. Don’t you think such a special occasion is worth celebrating?”
I snort. “Are you always so over the top?”
His lips quirk up in a lopsided grin as his gaze drops to my mouth. “Nah. I just like seeing you smile.”
And I like smiling—real ones, not the kind you give the camera or paste on your face when you know people are watching. I like that he makes me want to smile when I haven’t wanted to in a long time.
Mom’s voice echoes in my mind. “You used to be such a happy girl. What happened to you?”
With a smile on my lips and this handsome guy across from me, I relax a little as I scan the menu.
Keegan tells me about how he just graduated from high school and came to Los Angeles to work as a stuntman for the summer and that he ended up getting on a film being shot here.
“So you’re a stuntman? Is that what you want to do for a career?”
“I like it. It’s fun. I’m not trained like most of these guys, so I can’t do any of the cool stuff. As far as I can tell, I’m mostly here to be a punching bag.”
“What about college? Are you—” I bite my tongue, embarrassed that the question came out so full of presumption. College isn’t an option for everyone. “Sorry. It’s not my business.”
“No, I don’t mind. I just haven’t decided yet. I thought I’d come out here and earn some money and then decide.”
“No rush, right?”
He shrugs. “I played football in high school and I’ve been offered a guaranteed walk-on spot at Blackhawk Hills University. I’m weighing the advantages of taking that opportunity with the difficulties that come along with making it happen.”
“I guess I have two questions, then.”
He holds up a finger. “Let me guess. Your questions are, when am I going to take you out again, and will I spend my evening with you? Because if so, my answers are as soon as possible and I’d love to.”
I laugh, but my insides shimmy at the thought of another date with him and the idea of spending an evening with his attention on me. I like it too much. “Close, but not quite. Where’s Blackhawk Hills University, and what’s a guaranteed walk-on?”
“BHU’s in Indiana. Middle of nowhere, really, but their team is up and coming, and it’s a good college. I went to school in Blackhawk Valley when I was a kid, and I guess I just love the idea of getting back there. We moved a lot when I was growing up, and it’s the only place that ever felt like home.”
“And the walk-on thing?”
“It means they’re not giving me any scholarship money but they’ll let me on the team. Honestly, it probably means that I’d be trading work as a punching bag here for time as a punching bag for no pay. But at least I’d get to play ball.”
“You like playing football?”
His eyes go wide. “Yeah. I love it. I played defensive end and offensive line in high school. Pretty much any position that requires you to be big and fast at the same time has been my forte. It’s a special niche because most big guys aren’t fast enough and most fast guys aren’t big enough.” His gaze drifts to the beach. “It might be the only thing I’ve ever done that I’m proud of.”
“Then you should do it.”
He grunts. “I wish it were that simple.”
He looks down at his menu, and I wait for him to explain. When he doesn’t, I prod. “What’s holding you back?”
He lifts his gaze to mine. “Tuition, I guess, but if I can find a way to pay for the first year, I might be able to land an athletic scholarship for the next three.” He waves a hand as if the subject is a waft of smoke he can fan away from the table. “What about you? Are you in college?”
“I start in the fall.” I bite my bottom lip. “I’m nervous but excited. I want to learn as much as I can and eventually run a not-for-profit organization.”
The waiter comes to our table and sets two glasses of ice water before us, but does a double take when he sees me. “Miss Rothschild? What a pleasure to serve you today. I’m a big fan!”
I try to cover my flinch with a smile. I guess my identity is going to be revealed sooner than I plan
ned, which would be fine, but I was looking forward to getting to know Keegan without my childhood acting career coloring his impression of me. “Thank you.”
“I loved Lucy Matters,” the waiter says, and I can tell by his tone that he means it—he’s not just some jerk blowing smoke to get in good with the most famous person in the room.
Keegan arches a brow at me in question but stays silent.
“Are you still acting?” the waiter asks.
I shake my head. “Not at the moment. I might go back someday if the opportunity is right.” That’s such bullshit. I don’t want anything to do with Hollywood.
“Well, it’s truly a pleasure to meet you. Please let me know if I can get you anything—anything at all. Your lunch is on us today.”
My cheeks are burning by the time he leaves the table, and I’m scared to look at Keegan, scared he’ll look at me differently now that he knows. But when I lift my eyes to his, he’s grinning at me.
“Did you know your cheeks turn bright red when you’re embarrassed?” he asks. “It’s the cutest damn thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Yeah. Been like that since I was a kid.”
“I guess I should have remembered that from your sitcom.” He shakes his head and rubs the back of his neck. “I thought I recognized you but I couldn’t place you. I kind of feel like a tool now, actually.”
“Please don’t. Don’t do that.”
“Listen…” He scans the faces on the patio before turning back to me. “I mean, should you really be having lunch with someone like me? Shouldn’t you be hanging out with some actors or something? Or maybe with someone who could afford to take you someplace nicer than this?”
“I love this place,” I blurt before taking a breath. He looks truly baffled, and I want to explain. “I guess I could be eating lunch with some actors. I know a few.”
