“Then why don’t you?” I ask, imagining that if things could work out for John and I, then anything is possible.
“He’d probably laugh in my face,” she says, taking my hand and eyeing the ring again. “And you and John are still good after the talk you had with him?”
I nod, remaining optimistic about his reaction to my secret, a secret that I only partially divulged to him. “He says he understands, and he’s asked me more questions about it. He doesn’t seem to think I’m like a super skank or anything, so that’s good.”
“Yeah, you definitely don’t want to be pegged as a super skank.” Her laughter transfers to me, and pretty soon I’m trying to make sure I don’t blow coffee out of my nose.
“He’s meeting my dad for the first time tonight,” I say after I’ve recovered, “which is kind of weird because I’m just really getting reacquainted with him myself.”
“But it’s good though, right? Father’s are supposed to give their blessings to proposals, or at least they like to in the movies.”
“Yeah,” I say, laughing softly. “And I don’t see how he couldn’t love John as much as I do.”
“And what about John’s parents?” she questions. “Any movement with that?”
The memory of Mr. and Mrs. Mercer’s very cold reception to me on Labor Day is still with me. “John says they’ve been busy, but I know they don’t approve.”
My friend’s expression is plaintive before she offers a soothing smile. “They’ll get over themselves eventually I’m sure. Is it because of the case?”
I shake my head. “They don’t even know about Mr. Thatcher as far as I’m aware. If they did, well…” I sigh, “I just don’t know. And then of course there’s that other thing.”
Jennifer tilts her head, as if she’s confused momentarily, then says, “Oh, yes… that. You’ve kept it from John, haven’t you?”
I nod, and Jennifer grimaces.
I take a deep breath and clear my head. I don’t want to think about anything at all that could ruin things for he and I.
“As long as John loves you, then it’s all going to work out,” Jennifer says with a smile that doesn’t look as sure as she’s trying to portray it.
“I hope so.” I really, really do.
JOHN
“You’re not nervous about meeting my dad, are you?” Emma asks from the passenger seat of my SUV.
She’s looking gorgeous, as usual, in a dress she’d call cute. I’d call it sexy, but then Emma could be in a T-shirt and shorts, and I’d think it was sexy. Then she’s got her hair pulled up into a thick ponytail, revealing that slim neck of hers I just love to kiss.
“If I’m being honest, then yeah,” I say, though seeing her out of the corner of my eye reminds me why it’s so important to meet Emma’s dad and make sure he, and anyone else important to her, knows that I’m damn serious about this girl.
“There’s nothing to be nervous about.” She rests her hand on my shoulder. “He’s going to love you.”
“I guess I’m not exactly nervous, just a little worried he might take offense I didn’t ask permission before I proposed. I’d hate to get off on the wrong foot with the guy.”
Her expression is admonishing. “That’s really kind of antiquated, you know?”
“Yeah, I know,” I chuckle, “but that’s how I was raised, and if I’d asked Madison—”
Crap. Madison’s name, or anything at all about her, was the last thing I’d wanted to come out of my mouth.
“But you didn’t ask her,” Emma says with no trace of worry, offering the save without judgment.
“No, I didn’t.” I turn, smiling at Emma, so thankful for her and the ease with which she forgives me saying really stupid things.
The restaurant is almost all the way in Lake City in Northeast Seattle, in Emma’s dad’s neck of the woods. We walk in, and it looks like a place that serves a lot of comfort food. Emma nudges me when she spots Mr. Chambers sitting in a booth by himself.
Standing up when he sees us, he’s tall, a little rough around the edges, the kind of guy who probably doesn’t put up with a lot of bullshit, and I’m definitely not planning on offering any.
“Emma,” he says, nodding toward his daughter instead of hugging her.
“Hey, Dad.” She appears nonplussed by the lack of intimacy. “This is John. John, this is my dad Scott.”
I reach my hand out and firmly shake his. He’s got a grip that could crush a rock to bits, and I’m pretty sure he’s displaying it for my benefit.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Chambers,” I say with a mouth that is suddenly a little dry.
“Call me Scott,” he orders, lifting his lips into a brief smile.
“Okay, Scott,” I return.
In the next moment, he slides into one side of the booth while Emma and I take the other.
“I hope this is okay with you both,” he says, looking around the restaurant and sliding a few menus over that were stacked in the middle of the table. “It’s an easy place for Liz and I to bring the kids, but it’s nothing fancy.”
“It’s good with me, Mr. Cham—I mean, Scott. There’s a place like this near school I grab lunch at sometimes.”
He folds his hands on the table and looks directly at me. “You’re in school to be a lawyer—is that right?”
Emma holds my hand beneath the table, offers me a brief smile and then squeezes.
“Yes. I graduated pre-law last June, and now the real fun begins.”
“And how much longer will you be in school if you don’t mind me asking?” His expression is just as rigid as my father’s can be when he wants to get down to business.
The waitress comes around and drops off waters before scurrying away, and I’m grateful as I take a hearty gulp before answering. “Three years.”
“And then?”
“Well, my family runs a corporate law firm, but I’m hoping to practice in public service law.”
“Hmm…” He nods thoughtfully. “Sounds like you’ve planned this all out, but three years without a paycheck is an awful long time, especially when you plan on getting married. Are you expecting Emma to support you?”
“Dad!” Emma looks absolutely mortified.
But I’d considered this very question. While this wouldn’t be an issue in the circle of friends and family I’d grown up with where money isn’t much of a concern as long as you have future earning potential, I can understand where Mr. Chambers is coming from.
“My late grandfather set me up with a trust for as long as I’m in school. It pays for everything related to my education as well as living expenses, and yes, it would be enough to support Emma until I graduate and get a job. I might not be able to buy a house for her right away, but I’ll be able to take care of her.”
Emma looks at the table, perhaps embarrassed at the idea of being taken care of. I’d told her she could quit Patrice’s and go to school full time, but so far, she’s dismissed the idea.
“I see,” her father says. “Well, I’m an electrician, John. Didn’t take me seven years of school, and I was able to provide pretty decently for my family, and I’m not sure I want Emma to feel like she’s a kept woman.”
“No, of course not,” I say, not wanting to be misunderstood.
“Dad, he’s only offering, but I’m going to keep my job, okay?”
“I think that’s best.” He sends a look Emma’s way that displays an understanding between them. “I just want my girl to have something of her own, a way to make a living without depending on a man.”
“That’s exactly what I’d want for her too,” I shoot back, eager for him to see we’re on the same page.
“You do know about what she went through when she was sixteen, don’t you?” Mr. Chambers asks this through a stiff jaw, clenched teeth and an all around agony on his face that makes it apparent this isn’t a subject he wanted to have to bring up but deemed necessary.
“Dad… why?” Emma lets go of my hand, closes her eye
s and sinks down into her seat.
“She told me,” I say firmly, wanting Emma to know I don’t judge her for it. “And I can understand why you feel protective of her. I’d like to be the exact opposite of the guys that came before me.”
Mr. Chambers nods slightly. “That’s good to hear, John.”
Emma eventually regains whatever confidence she might have lost in the past having been brought up, and the three of us go on to have a decent meal and a conversation that is at times limited but also allows me to see the relationship between Emma and her Dad. I can see he loves his daughter, but he doesn’t seem to be the type that is able to always express it in the way I think a daughter might want.
When our meal is finished, Mr. Chambers insists on paying the bill. In the parking lot, he offers his firm handshake and a pat on my back. “You seem like a good man, John. Just take care of my daughter, okay?”
“Yes, of course,” I reply with a burst of excitement and relief in winning him over. If only my own parents would be that easy.
Emma doesn’t say a whole lot on the ride back to the house, and when we get home and walk in, we both say a quick hello to Denny who is studying in the dining room before we head upstairs.
“What’s got you so quiet?” I ask, watching her peel the beautiful dress she’d worn tonight off, wishing I could just focus on her soon to be naked body but knowing something is wrong.
She shakes her head. “I don’t know. I was just thinking about my dad’s wife.”
“You mean because she wasn’t there?” I unbutton my dress shirt and am having difficulty controlling a certain physical reaction when Emma bends over to slip her heels off.
“More than that,” she says.
Once Emma loses the dress and the shoes, she’s down to a pink lace bra and panty set that makes it really hard to concentrate. But if there’s something on her mind, I won’t be able to relax until I know what’s going on.
“How so?” I ask, sitting on the bed, shirtless. I pat the space next to me.
“She just doesn’t approve of me,” Emma says, sitting down, her expression gracious, yet sad, the scent of something sweet lingering on her. “I understand why, but it makes it difficult to see the kids.”
“Oh, the half-siblings?”
“Yeah.” She pauses and looks down into her lap. “Morgan and Chad.”
“Well, that’s her problem.” I place my hand on her soft, delicate back and rub semi-circles over her smooth skin. “Maybe your dad can intervene?”
She sighs, smiles slightly and looks at me with those sweet green eyes of hers. “Yeah, maybe, but John, I just want you to be sure about us. I’ve made some really bad mistakes, and you just seem to trust I won’t make them again.”
“We all make mistakes,” I say, wrapping my hand around her shoulder and pulling her closer to me. “I’ve made my fair share.”
She opens her mouth, as if to say something. After taking in another breath, she says, “I’m sure they’re nothing compared to mine.”
“You give me too much credit.” I shouldn’t be embarrassed to share more of my past when she’d been brave enough to tell me something she feared would end our relationship.
“Do you want to tell me about them then?” She’s looking at me with what I think might be a hope that whatever I have to say will equalize our relationship.
“I do want to tell you, but only because I want you to know I have a past too. I’m not exactly proud of it.”
She nods and puts her hand on my bare chest. I could get lost in that touch if I let myself, but she needs answers.
“When I was fifteen, I got caught up in what most parents would call the wrong crowd.”
“Oh?” Emma’s eyebrows lift.
“Definitely. Until then, I’d been the golden boy of the family, played baseball, had my friends over, did above the board things like swim and water ski, toss the football around… you know, whatever else teenagers do that isn’t illicit.”
Emma smiles. “I’m mentally preparing myself to imagine you’d actually do something truly illicit.”
She relaxes me, even if that’s not her plan, making me feel as though whatever I tell her won’t be met with judgment.
“Well, just imagine,” I say with what feels like a crooked grin. “I guess I got bored, and I met a girl. Her name was Alicia… Alicia Dowenger.”
Emma stiffens slightly against my arm.
“Her family had moved here from New York, and she was pretty much the exact opposite of those of us who were born and bred here.”
“She sounds alluring,” Emma says with a hint of jealousy in her voice that I kind of like.
“Not anywhere near as alluring as you,” I offer truthfully. “But when I was fifteen, she was kind of it as far as I was concerned. And Alicia liked her drugs, and pretty soon I liked them too. Mom and Dad threatened to ship me off to a military school unless I got my act together, but I was too far gone for that to scare me.” I pause, not sure I’ll be able to tell the rest of the story without feeling an overwhelming sense of guilt.
“What finally scared you?” Emma prods after a few beats of silence.
I shake my head lightly, hanging my head down in a kind of shame I hadn’t felt for years. “I’m not sure I’m ready to say. I’m not sure how you’d see me if I told you.”
She pulls back from me a couple of inches. “John, I’ve told you some pretty damning things about me. And yet you didn’t judge me. You should know that I’d return the favor.”
“Yeah, I know.” I take in a deep breath, about to man up and do my best to explain it.
“But you don’t have to tell me,” she says before I can get a word out. “If it’s something you’re not proud of, and you don’t feel this unbearable desire to get it off of your chest, then I don’t need to know… not now… maybe not ever.”
Given this reprieve, I’m not sure what to do.
“I’m being serious, John. I don’t need to know. The guy you are now, right in front of me, is the only one I’m concerned about.”
I let out a short breath, grateful. “How did I ever get so lucky to meet someone like you?”
“I could ask the same.” She smiles before dragging her fingers down my chest and to the button of my pants. “We’ve had an eventful day. I think we both deserve a little enjoyment, don’t you?”
“I won’t argue,” I reply, leaning back as she unbuttons and then unzips me.
I’d not expected Emma to bring her lips down over my hardness the way she did, but I hadn’t the control to stop her and perhaps try to please her first. I want to see her face, but that’s a little difficult given our positioning, so I close my eyes, relax and enjoy what she’s doing for me. Eventually, she moves upward, dropping kisses up toward my navel, over my chest and finally to my lips. I’m grateful to see her eyes again and feel a desperate need to finish myself off inside of her.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I say, easing out of my pants and the already pulled down boxers, then kicking my shoes off. I tug at the sides of Emma’s panties, pulling them down and getting even more turned on by the glistening wetness between her legs.
“I want you, John,” she says in a soft, seductive voice that I simply can’t resist.
“Oh… not near as much as I want you.” I slip her body beneath mine and bring my mouth to her heavy breasts, pulling the edge of her bra down and sucking on her sweet, pebbled nipples.
Her moans are elixir to my soul and only increase my excitement. The edges of her fingernails rake against my skin, sending shivers through my body, and I eagerly unclasp her bra, then position myself above her and guide my thickness into her, the sense of relief at entering her strong and immediate.
Moving into a steady thrusting motion, I keep my eyes on hers, eyes that I don’t ever not want to see, a body beneath my own that I don’t ever not want to feel, a girl that I don’t ever not want to have in my life.
There is such an easiness to the way her body moves
and conforms to mine, an easiness that is punctuated with pleasure that still sends me into an alternate sense of reality that extends for a long while before Emma finally stiffens and relaxes, crying out in orgasmic relief that is soon followed by my own.
“I want to put a baby in you,” I say in a burst of excitement once the most intimate parts of our bodies have separated and I’m holding her back against my chest, my chin on her neck, my lips at her ear.
She’s quiet for a few beats too long before she says, “Someday,” bringing her hand around and placing it on mine. “Someday we’ll have our own family, but not now… not yet… we’re way too young for that.”
“Okay, but with you, I just want everything now. I can’t explain it.”
She turns her body so that she’s facing me, her long chestnut hair falling back over her chest. “I understand because I feel the same way, but I’m not going anywhere. We have all the time in the world.”
She says it with such conviction, but part of me wonders if that conviction is put on. Does she really believe we’ll make it the long haul? I want to, more than anything, but a part of me still worries about how controlled my life is. Maybe the idea of a kid is just a way to keep her anchored to me, to keep my family at bay. I still have a fear that Emma could be taken out of my life, that she could be removed.
It’s what my parents had done to Alicia.
And I hadn’t done a thing to stop them.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
EMMA
“You’re overworking yourself,” Mom says. We’re sitting together on the couch at the condo, watching an episode of Ellen on the DVR.
It’s a Friday night, and I’d promised Mom I’d pop over for a few hours after work.
“I’m fine,” I say, unable to stifle the yawn that comes over me. “It’s just school has taken a lot of effort lately.”
“Your plate is too full with work and school and everything,” Mom says, fidgeting with her fingers. “I just don’t want to see you fall over the edge.”
“Mom, I’m okay,” I reiterate, making sure to look her square in the eyes.
And I am okay, but there is some truth to Mom’s worries. I’d never felt the pressure of school as much as I had now. If I thought taking design classes was going to be a walk in the park, or that I’d just pick up using the sewing machine like I’d never stopped, I’d have been very wrong. And if I’d imagined being prepared for one of my instructors to pick apart some of my designs and basically tell me to start all over again, I’d have been wrong on that count too.
Broken by Love (The Basin Lake Series Book 2) Page 18
