Love Emerged (Love Surfaced #3)

by Michelle Lynn

“Unfortunately, I do. You have the gas. I’ll buy the meals.” She walks away from me and over to the booth, but she turns around at the last minute. “However, I’ll let you carry our food.”

  She hands me the pager, and if I wasn’t amused by her, I’d show her that I’m not her servant and what being an independent woman is all about.

  “You take my drink then.” I hand it to her.

  A smile tickles at the corners of her lips. “Fine.”

  She twists around again, and I watch her ass in those tight jeans walk away, and I adjust my stance.

  The buzzer vibrates, and I pick-up her sandwich and my salad, finding her tucked away in a corner booth on her phone.

  “Who on earth do you text that much?”

  “I was just tagging us on Facebook. Did you see Tanner’s new commercial for protein bars? Piper just shared it.”

  “No, I didn’t. I’m sure he did a stellar job. He always does.”

  “Jealous?” She arches a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

  I don’t have hurt feelings regarding my brother’s success. One might think I’d be jealous of a brother on his track to the Olympics, but the truth is, Tanner and I have always been different. The only thing we had in common was we both wore our hearts on our sleeves. Never a tough guy who hides his feelings. I say wore because he’s solo on that now. Damn if everyone in this world doesn’t know how much he loves Piper.

  “No.”

  “Hmm . . . I don’t know.” She places her phone down on the table before picking up half of her sandwich.

  “I learned a long time ago that Tanner and I are different on multiple levels,” I clarify.

  “Except for those dimples and emerald-hued eyes.” She smiles.

  I laugh. “Yeah, I guess we look alike.”

  “It must be nice to have a sibling though?”

  I swallow down my bite of salad and wipe my mouth with a napkin. “You don’t have any?”

  “No. A few steps, but are they really steps after your mom divorces their fathers?” She studies the ceiling for a moment. “I don’t think so.”

  “If you’re close to them, they’re still your family.” I change her line of thinking.

  “Nope.”

  “So, may I ask about your dad?” I sip my drink, and her eyes focus down on her plate. “If you aren’t comfortable, I understand.” Hell, don’t ask me about Ava or my time in New York.

  “Did Tim tell you?” The loudness of her voice softens to a whisper.

  I regret broaching the subject. “No, I overheard you telling him your dad was sick.” There’s something about lying to Bea that seems wrong.

  She tilts her head again, those hazel eyes staring at me long and hard. Whatever she’s trying see, she either lets go or is waiting until later. “He has cirrhosis of the liver, which he’s kept from me until now, and he’s dying. There’s nothing else they can do for him.” She inhales a deep breath, placing her sandwich back on the plate.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know much about that illness.” An urge burns inside me, wishing I’d chosen medical school so that I could maybe give her a little hope.

  “He’s not really much of a father. I mean, he’s paid his money over the years, but as far as a true father role, no.” She picks up her sandwich. “But whatever. He’s my dad, so I’m abiding his last wishes for a weekend visit before he dies.”

  Her words are borderline cruel, but I don’t know what she’s endured over the years. If it were my dad, I’d be a bear to be around.

  “My parents separated two years after I was born, so you can imagine,” she says.

  Honestly, I can’t, but I’m not asking anymore questions. Judging from the amount she’s fidgeted in her seat the past few minutes, I don’t really care to dredge up her past if it disturbs her to this degree.

  “My parents are still married, but I can imagine you’d get pulled into different directions.” If I had to think about it, my parents would fight over my brother and me.

  “Try the opposite. I was more of an inconvenience to both of them.” She pushes her dish aside. “We should probably get back on the road.”

  I stand, picking up both of our plates. I’ve always sucked at the feelings shit, but I didn’t have to deal with much with Ava. Her parents were still married, too, and the only drama she endured was a mean girl at work. The girl quit a month later, so the problem was solved without my involvement. But Bea’s issues run deep, and I’ve never been good at solving those types of problems.

  “Hey”—I stop her at my car door minutes later—“I’m sorry about your parents.”

  “There’s that nice guy pouring out.” She reaches over and pinches my cheeks, as if I were a little kid. “Don’t sweat it.”

  She slides into my car and shuts the door before I have a chance to say more. Conversation’s over, I suppose.

  TWO HOURS LATER, WE’RE WALKING into the hotel. I’m surprised she’s staying at one with her family being here, but I’m not going to pry. If the conversation from lunch told me anything, Bea’s family is very different than my own.

  We check in, and once we’re in the elevator, we have to separate since she’s on the fourteenth, and I’m on the fifteenth floor. An impending doom buries inside me, and I wish it would go away.

  “So, I’m going over to my dad’s now, but maybe we could get together tonight?” She holds the doors open.

  I take one last look at her, as though I’m trying to memorize her. “Yeah, I’ll be up late. I’m just going to go work out and maybe walk around the city a little bit,” I say, like I’m not going to hole myself in my room to start a campaign idea before she returns. The habits of a workaholic.

  “Okay, I’ll call you when I return.”

  I nod, but she stands there, biting the inside of her cheek.

  “Okay then. Thanks for driving me, Dylan.”

  “You’re welcome. Thanks for letting me tag along, so we can finish.”

  The bell on the elevator buzzes because we’ve had the doors open too long, and Bea seems to awaken out of her daze.

  “Okay then. See you later,” she says. She back steps while the doors slowly close, parting us for the time being.

  If only my body wasn’t begging my mind to pull those doors apart, like some superhero, and escort her to her room . . .

  Platonic, Nike, platonic, Nike, I repeat over and over again until I safely land on floor fifteen.

  Surely, one floor between us should make it unproblematic to keep our distance. I’ll see her for limited hours over the next three days.

  I’m not even in my room when my phone buzzes in my pocket. A sly smile comes to my face as I assume it’s Bea. When I pull my phone out and see my brother Tanner’s name, my smile turns down. I guess I’m not as desirable as I think.

  I swipe the screen and pull it to my ear as I walk into my hotel room.

  “What’s up?” I ask.

  He laughs. “Where the hell are you? Brad said you went to Chicago. With Bea?”

  Oh, shit.

  I should have realized this. Bea is Piper’s, best friend. This would cause trouble. Not to mention, he already lectured me before he flew back to Colorado. If I hurt Bea, Piper is going to give him an earful. In turn, that means he would have to hurt me.

  “It’s business. Did you know she worked for Deacon?” I lie down on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, wishing I’d hit Ignore.

  “No, I knew she was in advertising but not at Deacon.”

  “You do know it’s the biggest firm in Detroit. You never thought to mention that to me?” I somehow blame him for my sleeping with her and for putting me in this awkward situation of wanting her again.

  “You fucking screwed her. Damn it, Dylan. What the hell am I supposed to tell Piper?”

  “I’m sorry. When did those words leave my mouth? I never said I screwed her.” I roll my eyes, cracking my neck back and forth from the drive.

  “Did you?”

  “Yeah.” I can’t stop the laugh
escaping me.

  He’s just too easy to rile up when it comes to Piper. Hopefully, once they’ve been together as a couple for a while, he’ll calm down.

  “Damn it.” Through his car’s Bluetooth, I hear his fist slam into the steering wheel.

  “I didn’t exactly expect to see her again,” I argue a nonexistent point.

  It does nothing to simmer his anger. I hear nothing else and assume he’s fuming with anger.

  “I’m sure Piper understands that her friend sought me out. I can’t fault Bea. I’m a hot piece of ass with only so much willpower.”

  Another long stream of breath rings through the phone, and I bite my tongue to stop myself from laughing any more. It would only make the situation worse.

  “Why are you in Chicago?”

  “I told you, work. I got Nike to agree to a pitch. Bea’s the most talented at Deacon, so I needed her. Hey, what has Piper told you about Bea’s parents?” I change the path of conversation. Maybe if I know about the issues beforehand, I can handle it better when she wants to talk.

  “Nothing. Call her. But my question is, why do you want to know about her parents?”

  He’s right. Caring about her past is a sign of more than a hook-up. It’s a sign that I actually care about her. Which can’t happen because I promised myself that I would never again become invested in another person.

  “Forget it. It’s not important. Anyway, she’s visiting her family, and I drove her, so we could brainstorm. Don’t worry. The first time was the last time.” I hold up two fingers with my scout’s honor. The Boy Scouts could shame me for lying like this, so I cross my fingers of my other hand.

  “It’d better be. I know Bea is, you know, easily distracted by the male species, so I’m sure she’s not going to be heartbroken.”

  “Are you calling her a slut?”

  “No,” he whispers. “I just meant, she was hitting on you pretty hard, like she used to with the guys in college.”

  “Bro, are you telling me that I wasn’t her first? Man, break my heart, why don’t you?”

  “Shut up. Speaking of broken hearts, you want to finally tell me about Ava?”

  My first mistake was opening my mouth on the way to the Ashby’s house. Tanner couldn’t stop talking about his anxiety over seeing Piper again after two years, so I distracted him with my fucked up version of a love life. Thinking back, I’m not sure how I thought that would have helped him.

  “She’s in New York, and I’m in Detroit now. We’re over. End of discussion.”

  “Listen, Dylan, I’m not trying to be a dick.”

  “Could have fooled me,” I interrupt.

  “But you have to see where I’m coming from. I recently got back with Piper, and if my little brother breaks her best friend’s heart—”

  “Do you really think she’ll leave you? You’re insecure then because she loves you just as much as you love her.”

  They both need to find some confidence in their relationship.

  “Just be careful. You’re fresh off a breakup, and Bea . . . she’s just not really into a steady thing.”

  This is the first hint I’ve gotten that he’s more worried about me than Bea.

  “You’re not worried that I’ll hurt Bea. You’re worried she’ll hurt me,” I call him out on the psychological bullshit he’s been spouting.

  “No, you’re a big boy. You can handle yourself. I know that.”

  “Big brother protecting little brother. I gotcha, bro. Thanks for caring, but I can handle this,” I assure him more than myself because I’m scared about the level of worry I already have for her.

  “All right. I’ve said my piece. I’ll let it go. I have to go back to practice. I’ll be home for the holidays, so make sure your ass is there.”

  “I will.”

  “Bye, Dylan.”

  “Bye.”

  We hang up, and I think about my relationship with my brother. I’m more fortunate than most. Following an older brother who’s going to be an Olympic swimmer hasn’t been easy, but he’s the one who makes it uncomplicated. Never throws it in my face or thinks he’s better.

  Look at just now. He pretends he’s worried I’ll hurt Bea when, in actuality, he’s scared that she’s going to break my heart. I contemplate that thought for a second and realize I’m in way over my head. I’m not built to only care about getting into someone’s pants. Already, I’ve been trying to dig up information on her horrific past to somehow ease her distress.

  Damn it. Nope. This time will be different, I’ll make sure of it.

  Bea

  I’M BACK IN THE ELEVATOR after dropping my bags off in my room. My stomach churns with the thought of what’s waiting for me in a limo downstairs. As I said good-bye to Dylan at the elevator, I almost asked him to come with me to my father’s. Somehow, he could be a buffer to the drama that will be waiting for me. But how do you ask someone that you’ve really only slept with, to hold your hand? I could barely tell him about my family without tears spilling down my face.

  The elevator doors open, and I step through the unimpressive lobby and out the doors to the streets of Chicago.

  “Cab, ma’am?” The doorman approaches me.

  I smile, waving him off. “No, thank you. That’s mine.” I point to the stretch limousine as dread washes over me.

  “Let me get your door.” He steps over, his gloved hand on the door handle.

  I dig into my coat pocket to tip him before I slide into the car. “Thank you,” I say.

  “My pleasure, ma’am.”

  The door shuts, and the pleasant exchange I had with the doorman ends with a bang.

  “Why the hell would you stay here? I told you I’d book you a room at The Drake.” My mom’s drink tips over the edge, spilling to the carpeted floor.

  “Nice to see you, too.” I shoot her a tight smile, not that she sees it with her hand reaching for the bottle already.

  “Hi, honey.” She gives me a fake smile and then concentrates on the glass in front of her.

  “I told you, I’m here with a coworker because I’m working on an important campaign. He suggested this hotel, so I agreed.”

  She acts like the Hilton is a shabby motel with vibrating beds.

  “Oh, that’s right, my so, so busy daughter.” She leans back, crossing her legs, and I realize they’re bare.

  My eyes drift up, and I find she’s dressed in a red dress with black heels. Her makeup has been professionally done as well as her curled hair.

  Oh God, she’s trying to impress my father. The twisting in my stomach worsens.

  “Well, I do have a career I’m striving for,” I remark.

  She narrows her eyes at me.

  “You know, if you want Dad to notice you, then maybe you should refrain from drinking so much.”

  “I definitely don’t need your advice on men, Miss Spinster.”

  “I’m twenty-five, not fifty,” I come back at her insult. “Just because I’m more interested in my career doesn’t mean I don’t have boyfriends.”

  “Who is your man then? I introduced you to William’s son, and you gave him a bloody nose. Something about distance,” she continues.

  I’m thinking about paying Dylan to portray my boyfriend for the rest of this weekend. At least then, she’d leave this subject matter alone.

  “First of all, I don’t have a man right now. Second, Cory, William’s son, tried to lead me into the coatroom to have sex. I refused, and he got angry.”

  I fail to disclose that he was actually forcing himself on me. She doesn’t need to know that, especially since she’s divorcing William.

  “That’s no reason to punch him.”

  With my blood boiling in my veins, I sit back and stare out the window, hoping she sees that I’m not in the mood for this conversation.

  Luckily, she can still read my moods with the nonverbal signs and sits there, drinking her half bottle of vodka. Within minutes, we’re outside my dad’s condo building. This is one of seven ho
uses he has, most being in tropical settings that people dream to visit, let alone live. I’ve only ever seen this house and his LA one, not that I hold it against him in any way.

  His doorman opens the door for my mom and me. We step out, and my mom waits for him to walk back to the door before going in. Like her hands are unusable. If they can lift a fifth of vodka, they can open a door.

  “Please,” I sigh, reaching across her to open it up.

  The door handle is in my hand when the doorman approaches.

  “I’ll get that, ma’am.”

  I step away, and my mother walks in as soon as the door is opened. She breezes to the elevator, as though she’s a resident.

  “May I ask who you are here to see?” a lady behind the desk asks.

  My mother continues to face the elevator doors. So indignant to be asked.

  “Mom,” I say.

  She turns to me and rolls her eyes. “Tell them, Beatrice.”

  I walk over to the reception desk. The girl’s doe eyes look up at me. If I wasn’t here, I’m not sure anyone would have stopped my mother.

  “Hi, I’m Beatrice Zanders, and I’m here to see Hugh Vitron in the penthouse.” My fingers tap on the counter as I wait for her to check the list of visitors.

  “Great. I have you.” She writes something down. “And this is?” She points to my mom.

  “Caroline Vitron,” my mother answers, still facing the doors.

  I shoot the girl a tight smile. She’s lying. Call her out on it.

  “I need to ring up because you aren’t on the list.”

  Maybe I was wrong about this girl. My lips curl into a smile.

  “Do what you must.” My mother waves her hand in the air.

  The elevator doors open, and the man smiles at my mother, ushering her in.

  The receptionist holds her hand up in the air while the phone is lodged in her neck, and the bellman halts my mother to a stop, both showing my mother that she’s not all she believes she is. I’m liking this place more and more.

  “Hi, Gretchen. This is Kyleigh downstairs. There’s a Caroline Vitron here with Bea Zanders to see Mr. Vitron.”

  There’s a long enough pause for me to think about who Gretchen is. Is this some surprise who will slide in and marry my dad before he kicks the bucket? Probably some chick younger than me.