And then there is the drinking. She’d obviously had way too much the first night I met her, and I’d watched her take shots in the kitchen out of the corner of my eye tonight, tasted it on her lips even though she’d tried to hide it with breath mints or mouthwash. I’d chalk it up to being nineteen and liking to party, but Emma just doesn’t seem the partying type. Yes, she likes to dance, but she’s otherwise reserved, her intake of alcohol more about its effects I think and less a part of being social or loosening her up the way it seems to do to the rest of us. But it’s too soon to say something about it or even to know that it’s a problem. I don’t want her to think I’m judging her—the last thing I’d want is to scare her away.
When I get back to the house, things have quieted down. Stephen and Angela are likely upstairs while Denny, Court and Meg are spread across the living room. When I approach and sit down, they all get quiet and take long hearty gulps of the drinks they have in their hands.
“Sorry about earlier,” I say, deciding it’s better to hash out what happened before Emma and I left rather than ignore it and let it fester.
“I wasn’t trying to push any buttons,” Court says, looking slightly perturbed at me.
“I’m sure you weren’t,” I reply, “but Emma didn’t know that, and she doesn’t know us. She’s got an asshole of an ex-boyfriend that I don’t think she likes to talk about.”
“Well, shit, now I feel like an asshole myself,” Meg adds in.
“Don’t do this,” Denny says, cutting into the discussion.
“Do what?” I ask, returning the glare he’s giving me.
“Try to find something in this girl you think you’re missing in life and then end up going right back to Madison. We know your track record on that.”
I’m fairly stunned at the accusation I think he’s making, digging up something that happened years ago, before Madison and I had even been a couple.
“Denny.” Court says his name with an attached warning.
“Stop being a dick,” I say to him, getting up and out of the chair. “I never dumped anyone for Madison.”
He stands too, facing me. “I’m not trying to be a dick. I just don’t want to see Emma get hurt.”
“Oh, you don’t? Is that why you were pressuring her to answer that stupid question about her first love tonight?” I take a step forward, trying to remember the last time Denny and I had ever had the occasion to spar.
“Maybe I was trying to harden her up,” he says, matching me with a step of his own and coming closer. “So she won’t be heartbroken when you dump her.”
“Guys,” Meg says, pushing in between us, a palm on each of our chests. “This is stupid.”
“I don’t know what your problem is, man,” I say moving back to give Meg some room. “I realize you have some thing for Emma, but she’s made it clear she’s not interested, okay?”
Denny lets out a sharp breath. “You always get whatever you want, don’t you?” he says, clenching his jaw. “Always.”
I sigh. “I do? As if you weren’t born with a silver spoon in your mouth?”
“This isn’t about how much money or fucking opportunity you and I have. It’s just the one girl I tell you I’m interested in, and you go after her.”
Court is up off the couch now too, and, feeling like I’m living in some sort of Twilight Zone, I ask her, “Is that how you see it too? That I moved in on a girl Denny might have mentioned thinking was cute?”
She tilts her head to the side and looks at me ruefully. “John, you just broke up with Madison, and we were kind of thinking of Emma for Denny. I’m sorry—”
“Did any of you see her in the alley behind Rampage?” I say with an edge of anger.
“In the alley?” Meg asks.
“Yes, in the alley where that ex-boyfriend of hers was trying to do God only knows what.”
There is a sudden look of embarrassment on Denny’s face.
“That night we met her?” Court asks with a semi-horrified look on her face.
“Yeah,” I say. “The night you all seem to think I plucked Emma away from Denny. After Madison told me what an asshole I was, slapped me, then flipped me off for walking her to her car, I found Emma’s ex pushing her up against the wall behind Rampage.”
“That’s awful,” Meg says with quiet reserve.
“Sorry, man.” Denny backs up and sits down on the couch.
“Emma and I… connected,” I say, unsure of how else to explain what I feel for her. “It’s like you guys think I’m just fucking with her head or something… like she’s some sort of stand in while Madison and I are on a break… but that’s not true… not even close!”
“We’d never think that,” Court says, stepping forward and putting a hand on my shoulder. “You’re the last person to mess with anyone’s head. It’s just that you and Madison have been a staple in our lives for like ever, and Madison has her ways.”
I nod. That part is true. When Court drops her hand from my shoulder, I step back and sit down.
“I know I must look pathetic,” Denny says, his eyes still on the ground. “I just felt something amazing when I first spotted her. I realize she doesn’t feel the same way.”
“We were wrong to try and screw things up for you.” Meg is talking to me while putting her arm around Denny.
“You aren’t pathetic,” I say to Denny, “but whatever it is you guys think about me, you’re going to end up hurting her if you keep this up.”
“You’re totally right.” Court’s voice is cheery all of a sudden. “From now on, we’ll be team Jemma.”
“Jemma?” I ask.
“John and Emma. That can by your shipper name,” she replies with just as much enthusiasm.
“Ah, that’s right,” I say, remembering Court and Meg’s joy of coupling up two people and merging their names together.
“Are we cool?” Denny looks up at me, the expression on his face still a serious one.
“Yeah, as long as you back off of me and Emma.”
“I can do that,” he says, his lips turning up into a congenial smile.
And then we go back to being four good friends, just like that.
Hopefully the repair holds.
CHAPTER SIX
EMMA
“I’m starting to get a little annoyed with Stephen,” Angela says, sitting in a comfortable upholstered chair opposite me in the small coffee shop I agreed to meet her at after work.
“And why is that?” I say, taking a sip of my coffee, not sure I’m really interested in the trivialities I’m sure she’s going to impart.
“He’s starting to use my age against me,” she says, sitting up and leaning forward. “He flipped when he found out I was nineteen, and now he’s treating me like a kid.”
Oh, that.
“But at least he knows now, and he was bound to find out,” I say, glad I’d told John I wasn’t old enough to legally drink—except for across the border in Canada—before he could figure it out on his own.
“Sure, but now he’s going to places with those fucking friends of his and not even inviting me.”
“It’s the pitfalls of being under twenty-one,” I offer, having been embarrassed myself a couple of weeks ago when John and I had to leave the bar part of a restaurant after the server decided to card me.
“Yeah, well, it’s really starting to piss me off. If he thinks he can just fuck me after he goes out without me, then he’s got another thing coming.”
“Is that all your relationship is about?”
“Maybe to him,” she says before narrowing her eyes at me. “You and John still haven’t, huh?”
I bite my inner lip and fiddle with my phone before I tell her, “No. We haven’t.”
She crosses her arms and eases back into her chair. “This is kind of a first for you, huh? I mean, how long did it take for you and Ike to start fucking? A week?”
“I don’t want to talk about Ike.” I’m determined not to be reminded of him and annoyed she
’d even bring him up.
She backs down and sighs. “So, is John like actually interested in you? Do you know?”
“Not everything is about sex,” I snap back at her.
“Yeah, maybe you’re right, but—” Angela’s phone buzzes, and she picks it up from the table, staring at it for a good ten seconds or so. “Well, would you look at that? Stephen is actually inviting me to a Labor Day bash.”
“Oh?” I peer over the table, as if by habit, wanting to see what she’s reading.
“A formal affair at the Mercers,” Angela says and looks up at me before she continues reading. “Wear something nice and bring a bathing suit. Ha! Maybe I’ll tell him no and see how long it takes him to stop ditching me on his nights out.”
“Don’t play games,” I warn. “Guys hate that.”
“Do they?” She rolls her eyes at me. “I think it’s the opposite. They love games—the thrill is in the chase and all. Maybe I should make him work for this.” She pouts her lips, then eyes her own cleavage that is pushing out of her dress.
All I can do is shake my head. I’ve never liked games. I’m a firm believer in telling someone how you really feel about them and following that up with actions to show them you mean it. I’d done that with Ike early on before I’d seen all the bad, things he used against me in the long run.
“What are you thinking?” Angela asks me, a strange question coming from a girl who is so keyed into herself.
I shrug.
“You wondering why John hasn’t invited you yet to the party being thrown at his parents’ house?”
It hadn’t occurred to me to worry until just now. I figured John would get around to it.
“I’m sure he will,” I say, but damn if Angela’s prodding isn’t making me less sure. John isn’t like his friend, Stephen—he’s looking for something more than just sex, and maybe he’s getting the idea I’m too young or too aimless in my life. It’s almost September, and all I’m doing is working, not even looking into colleges or taking serious steps toward exploring what I really want in my future.
“Well, you deserve a good guy,” Angela says, as if John isn’t a good guy. “And if John’s not it, there are plenty of other fish in the sea, right?”
“Sure,” I say.
There are men everywhere you look, a bunch of them right here in this coffee shop, some of them classically handsome, others with that edge some women like, a few of them probably single and looking. But I couldn’t care less because the only guy I want is John.
JOHN
I’d waited a few days to ask Emma to my family’s annual party on Labor Day. I’d thought about just ditching it and asking her out on a picnic, but when she finally mentioned something about Stephen asking Angela to go, I decided it was time to bite the bullet and introduce my family to her.
“You understand why I was slow to ask you to this thing, right?” I say after picking her up from her condo, her beautiful form sitting next to me in my SUV.
She nods. “Yes, John. I get it.”
“Do you? I still haven’t met your mom, either.”
“That’s because my mom is an alcoholic,” she says with raw honesty. “Once she can be sober for more than a day, I’ll introduce you.”
I chuckle at that, even if it’s not meant to be funny. “Just please don’t judge me for my parents either. They can be fairly difficult.”
“So you’ve mentioned,” she says, and I catch her smiling at me. “But the longer we wait, the more nervous it makes me.”
“I’m sorry if I ever gave you the impression I’m not proud to do it, Emma. I just don’t want them to ruin what we have is all.”
“I know,” she says with a meek smile. “But I feel really good about us, and maybe they’ll see that too?”
Her hand is on my thigh, and I take it, latching our fingers together. The truth is that, with each passing day, the feelings I have for Emma have only grown in intensity, and I’ve made a determined effort to make my father understand. We’d had several more conversations about both my professional future and Emma since that first day we’d discussed her in his office, and I feel like he’s beginning to realize I’m not going to give up on her.
“At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter what they think,” I say, gripping her hand tighter. “I’m the one that gets to choose who I want to be with.”
“I just don’t want to see anyone get hurt,” she says with the compassionate sort of conviction that makes me love her so much. “I’d hate to be the reason for any difficulty with your family.”
“Well, let’s not worry about that today, okay?” I draw her hand up to my lips and kiss her smooth skin. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her smile again, a smile I hope is never taken away from me.
EMMA
I’d had two shots of vodka and brushed my teeth for at least five minutes to cover any lingering smell before John picked me up. I didn’t want to admit to him how nervous I was to not only be meeting his family but to be going to a party where there would be so many people I didn’t know, people who had money, the upper crust of the upper class, the kind of people I waited on at Patrice’s.
The alcohol had settled my nerves earlier but doesn’t seem to have any effect now as John turns his SUV into the long driveway of his parents’ house in Medina. It’s just about the wealthiest suburb on the east side of Lake Washington, and there are several valet drivers parking cars, Land Rovers, Mercedes, BMWs and Teslas. There isn’t a Ford or Honda in sight.
“You ready for this?” John asks, diverting his SUV around the valet and finding a parking spot along the driveway.
I nod and do my best to push the mini panic attack I’m having even further beneath my calm exterior.
He takes my hand, and we walk toward one of the largest houses I’ve ever seen in my life. Like the Wallingford house John lives in, his family home is architecturally modern with a grayish-white exterior and giant, floor to ceiling windows that must have amazing views of the water and perhaps Seattle itself. In size and opulence, this officially surpasses Angela’s house on the Seattle side of the lake that I had so often been wowed by.
There is an actual doorman standing out front, and all it takes is a short nod from John for him to open the door for us.
“Hey man,” Stephen says as soon as we’re inside the massive foyer, sunshine beaming through the clear windows, the sounds of people and music drifting in from the back.
“What’s up, man,” John asks back before doing that slight hug and handshake guys do.
Both men are dressed in light, slim fitting, belted khaki trousers, and crisp white button up shirts, the only difference in their outfits being the slight differences in the shades of the colors.
“It’s about time you guys got here.” Angela is standing next to Stephen in a short cotton black sundress and high heels, looking oddly star-struck by the surroundings. She and Stephen are the only other people in the foyer, everyone else having apparently made their way through to the back.
“We should have just carpooled,” I say. “Have you been here long?”
Angela shrugs. “I don’t know… maybe like five minutes. This place is insane, totally cray.”
“These are your people though, right?” Angela should feel right at home here.
She laughs. “Yeah, right. My parents are only slightly rich, but this is an entirely different level of bank account.”
“As if you’re both a couple of street urchins.” Stephen offers a genuine smile and some laughter. “You look great by the way, Emma.”
Stephen doesn’t often compliment me, but I don’t read anything into it the way Angela obviously does when she stares at her boyfriend and then at me, almost as if I’d grabbed him by his shirt collar and kissed him.
“Thanks,” I say, undeterred by Angela’s apparent need to be the sun in his universe.
I’d spent the better part of a week planning my outfit, which I didn’t think was any cuter than Angela’s, though definite
ly different. I’d gone with a white, classically styled cotton dress with a scoop neckline. There was a danger to wearing white, but I’d wanted to impress John’s parents, and only this morning did I wonder if I’d chosen the color to look virginal and not like some girl John had picked up in a club.
John slides his hand down to the small of my back, bends his lips to my ears and whispers, “You do look amazing, babe.”
His touch relaxes me while his warm breath makes me tingle. “You’ve said that like a hundred times already, but thank you.”
“Let’s go in,” Angela snaps, grabbing my hand and pulling me away from him.
We move out of the foyer and through a long, wide hallway that draws us further into the bowels of the house where more people are congregating, voices becoming louder as I begin to see the back of the house and the wall of sliding glass that leads outside. I turn to make sure John is following—he is, along with Stephen—but there is something in his eyes that I hadn’t seen earlier, something that tells me he’s growing more uncomfortable the closer we get to me being introduced to his family and his larger circle of acquaintances. I only hope I won’t disappoint him.
“Hey you guys!” Court yells once we enter the very large patio and yard that slopes down toward Lake Washington, a live band playing subdued instrumental music on a surprisingly large stage on one side of the yard.
Meg tags along with her, both of them in classic cover-ups with bathing suits underneath. I’d brought one along and left it in John’s SUV, but I hadn’t been sure I’d find myself relaxed enough to change into it and take a swim in the pool or the lake itself.
“Hi,” I say, having not seen either of them since that night we all played Secrets and Lies.
“So glad you made it,” Meg says, her hair in a perfect ponytail and her makeup light but flawless. “Welcome to the world of the Northwest’s rich and famous,” she adds with sarcasm.
Court rolls her eyes.
“Everything chill here?” John asks, looking around the many faces at the party.
Meg shrugs. “Madison is with her friends,” she says. “That’s what you want to know, isn’t it?”
Broken by Love (The Basin Lake Series Book 2) Page 8
