by M. A. Foster
I blink in confusion as I pull the phone from my ear and look down at the screen. Emerson. Bringing the phone back to my ear, I say, “Jayla?”
“Hi, Cam,” she chirps. “Mom’s getting dressed for her party.”
“What party?”
“Some dinner party some of her old friends are throwing for her at Oceanside Grill.”
“Oh.” I wonder if Chris is one of those old friends.
“Hey, I was at your house today with Zach. We went to the beach. And while I think your house is beautiful, it looks like a squatter has taken up residence.”
I bark out a laugh. Smartass. “It’s not that bad. It has everything I need.”
“Your godmother is a decorator. Why haven’t you let her go to town in there? She did a fantastic job on our house.”
True. “I haven’t had time to think about it.” Also true.
Jay whistles into the phone. “Damn, woman. If I weren’t your daughter, or a female, and was into the whole cougar thing, I’d totally hit on you.”
I throw my head back and laugh, prompting my teammates to look over at me.
“So this outfit is a yes?” I hear Emerson ask in the background.
“It’s a hell yes,” Jay replies, and a surge of jealousy shoots through my veins. “Talk to you later, Cam. Here’s Mom.”
Jay says something in the background and then Emerson gets on the phone. “Hi,” she breathes. The sound of her voice tugs at my heart.
“Hey, you’re going out?”
“Just dinner with some old friends at Oceanside Grill. How was the game? Did you win?”
“We did. We’re on our way back now.”
“Congrats on the win. I need to finish getting ready. But you know where I’ll be if you want to come by.”
“I might just do that. See you later, Em.”
“Bye, Cam.”
Emerson
“What are your thoughts on anal sex?”
I choke on the wine halfway down my throat. I have no choice but to spit it back into the glass or it’ll end up all over my top.
Melissa Freye is a fellow classmate and cheerleader who was definitely born without a filter. Sometimes I wonder if maybe she and I were switched at birth—she’s foulmouthed and blunt, just like my mother.
“I have none,” I reply with a smirk.
“Oh come on. You were married to a rock star. I bet that man fucked you six ways to Sunday. You could probably write a book just on your sex life.”
I probably could.
I huff out a laugh, feeling the blush of embarrassment spread across my chest and up my neck to my cheeks.
“I’m sorry, Em.” Melissa slaps a hand over her chest. “I didn’t mean—”
“It’s okay.” I wave her off. “Excuse me.” I push back from the table and stand. “I’m gonna run to the restroom.”
The truth is Marcus had a very healthy sexual appetite. The second he put a ring on my finger and made me his wife, he couldn’t keep his hands off me. Depending on our schedules, we had sex often and at least once a day. Marcus always made time for it. But when the cancer took over, our sex life became nonexistent. Marcus apologized daily and it broke my heart. I didn’t need him to validate his love for me with sex. Our marriage wasn’t based on it. What we had was a beautiful, yet busy life together and a deep, passionate love for each other.
Do I miss sex? Yes.
I’m standing at the counter washing my hands when the bathroom door swings open and Lisa walks in. “You okay?” she asks as she leans against the counter with her arms crossed.
I smile as I reach for a paper towel. “I’m fine.”
“Ignore Melissa.” She flicks her wrist. “You know that girl has never had a filter.”
I shake my head. “It wasn’t what she said. I mean it was, but not about Marcus. Just sex in general.”
“What do you mean?”
I clear my throat as I turn away from the mirror to face her. “Lisa, I haven’t had sex in over two years.”
She raises her brows, then opens her arms to pull me into a hug. “I’m sorry, Emerson. If anyone understands, it’s me.”
“I know.” I sigh as I step out of her embrace. “I miss sex. But you know what I miss the most? Intimacy. I miss feeling the weight of a man lying on top of me. I miss the heat of his naked skin pressed against mine.”
“Damn, girl.” Lisa fans herself.
I snort as I edge toward the door, and Lisa follows me. Bass is leaning against the wall, wearing a concerned expression. “I’m fine, B. I just needed a minute.”
The three of us make our way back to the table and I notice a familiar head of wavy brown hair. “Hey,” I say as I plop down in the chair beside Cam. “What are you doing here?”
“You invited me.” I did. “You’re finally out of the house, and I wanted to make sure you were having a good time.” He smiles. Gah.
Lisa leans into my ear and says, “You should let him get on top of you.”
I snicker. She’s crazy. Cam is like a brother to me.
I turn my head to see him leaning with his forearms crossed and resting on the table, his blue eyes locked on me. God, he’s beautiful.
Desire stirs in my lower belly at the thought of Cam’s athletic body naked and sweaty on top of mine. Clearing my throat, I stifle a moan as I squeeze my thighs together, soothing away the throbbing between my legs and pushing the ridiculous thoughts from my brain. I’m blaming the alcohol and sex talk for the fact that I’m suddenly attracted to Cam.
A wave of guilt washes over me.
“I’m glad you came.” I raise my hand to get our server’s attention. “What are you drinking?” I ask him.
“Just water.” He smiles and my gaze drops to his mouth. His bottom lip is slightly fuller than the top, and I wonder what it would feel like to have those lips all over my body.
Damn you, Lisa.
The drinks continue to flow as my friends and I play catch-up.
“Oh my God! Remember Stacey Crawford?” Melissa shrieks.
I cover my face in embarrassment because I know exactly what’s coming next.
“What was it you called her?”
I drop my hands from my face and laugh. “Black-&-Decker-pecker-wrecker.”
Cam throws his head back and laughs.
“Yes!” Melissa points before she throws her head back and laughs. “You always made me laugh, Em.”
“Why did you call her that?”
“She wore braces, and this one time she gave Max a blow job.” I giggle. “Let’s just say every time Max heard her name, he would cringe and cover his dick.”
“Ouch,” Cam says with a laugh.
“All right, ladies.” I push my chair back and attempt to stand. Cam grabs my elbow to steady me and I shoot him a wink. “It’s been great catching up. We need to do this again soon.”
Cam
Emerson is buzzed and fucking adorable. It’s been years since I’ve seen her like this—relaxed, smiling and carefree, without the weight of the world on her shoulders. It reminds me of the nights Liam and I would hang out at her house keeping her company while Marcus was busy in the studio.
She curls her arm around mine and leans into me as we walk to my truck. “That was fun.” She smiles.
“It was. Your friends are funny,” I tell her as I open the door and help her into the passenger seat before rounding the back and climbing into the driver seat.
Emerson reaches over and places her hand on my thigh. I look over at her and she gives me a sullen look. “They’re not my friends, Cam. Not my real friends, anyway. It took me a long time to learn the difference between a friend and an acquaintance.” She waves me off. “Ignore me. I think I’m drunk. They’re good people.”
I chuckle. “Trust me, I get it. I have teammates but they’re not my friends.”
She snaps her fingers and points at me. “Exactly.”
The ride to Emerson’s is silent. I glance over at her to see if she’s passe
d out, but I’m surprised to see she’s awake, leaning her head against the window. She looks lost in thought.
“What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking”—she looks over at me—“that I’m lucky that I have you in my life.” She reaches over and intertwines her fingers with mine. “You are the definition of a real friend.”
That makes me smile. I love that she’s always so open and honest with me. She never holds back from being herself, and it makes me feel like she’s truly comfortable with me.
Emerson
I’m sitting at the counter with my pounding head in my hands as Grace slides a cup of coffee under my nose. “I take it you had a good time?” she asks.
I move my hand and flick my wrist. “I can’t remember the last time I had a hangover.”
“Six years ago,” she reminds me. “Grammys after-party.”
“Oh my God. That was the worst hangover of my life.”
“Nope,” Grace adds with a laugh. “2002 MTV Music Awards.”
“Oh jeez. That was pretty bad.”
“Pretty bad?” Grace tilts her head back and laughs. Okay, it was really bad. Marcus had to get a doctor to come to the house and administer an IV because I couldn’t move. I literally thought I was going to die that day.
I snort a laugh. “You’d think I would’ve learned my lesson after that.”
“Well, no one can ever accuse you of being dull. You sure know how to have a good time.”
Bass is whistling as he enters through the garage door and saunters into the kitchen. He stops short and raises his brows. “Holy shit, woman.” He chuckles. “You look like hell.”
“Thanks.” I flip him off.
“Where’s Princess? I didn’t see her car in the garage.”
I frown but Grace says, “She went to get coffee.”
“We have coffee here,” I argue, and Grace shrugs. “I’m gonna go hop in the shower. B, will you call Jay and see what she’s up to today?”
“I’ll make you something to eat,” Grace calls out.
We’re just finishing up breakfast when Jay walks into the kitchen and drops her purse down on the island.
“Hi there,” I greet her. “Where ya been?”
She leans across the counter and snatches a piece of bacon from the tray. “I went to this little breakfast place a few doors down from Starbucks,” she tells me, not meeting my eyes. Instead, she focuses on the plate of bacon in the center of the island. “Their lattes are pretty good. Then I went by Mac’s to see Alex.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I had an idea for the Project Mayhem class, and I wanted to run it by him to see what he thinks. I met his mom.”
“Sophia,” I say, realizing my mistake too late.
Jay doesn’t miss it either. Her brows dip in confusion. “You know Alex’s mom?”
I shake my head. “No. I just remember he mentioned his mother’s name was Sophia. It’s a pretty name.”
“She’s a pretty lady. She’s got blonde hair. I pictured his mom to have black hair like his.”
I shrug. “Both Mimi and Aunt Jessica have blonde hair,” I remind her.
She nods slowly, staring off in the distance. “That’s true.”
“So what’s the idea?”
Her eyes flick to me. “Huh?”
I raise my brows. What the hell is going on with her? “The idea you had,” I prompt.
“Oh. I was thinking if the students in the class are serious about performing, then they need to learn to perform in front of people other than just our classmates.”
Color me impressed. She’s thinking like her father. “That’s a great idea, Jay.”
“That’s what Alex said. He said he’s happy to see that I’m taking the Project Mayhem class seriously and hopes I’ll get more involved after the tour.”
“Will you?” I ask, hopeful. This is what Marcus really wants for her.
“I really like it, Mom. No offense to you and Daddy, but I don’t want to spend my life living on a tour bus.”
“Jay, after this tour, you can do whatever you want. If you want to take over the Mayhem Foundation, I’ll help you. Or you can just run Project Mayhem. It’s your choice. Mimi is good with running charities. She can teach you everything you need to know.”
Jay nod. “I’d like that.”
She pushes herself up and off the counter. “I’m gonna go check out my music room.”
Turning in my seat, I call out to her retreating back, “Are you gonna play?”
“Maybe.”
Grace smiles at me and does a little happy clap. Jay hasn’t written a song or touched an instrument in over a year. Elated doesn’t even begin to describe how I’m feeling right now.
Grabbing my phone, I hop off the stool and hurry down the hall after her, finding her standing in the hall connecting her office to the music room. Pictures from Marcus’s office line the walls, and I see she’s focused on something in particular.
I move to stand beside her to see what has her transfixed. A framed sheet of paper with black squiggly lines scribbled across the page in crayon.
The sound of Jay singing echoed down the hall as Marcus and I crept up the stairs. Huddled outside her open bedroom door, we peeked inside and had to stifle our laughter.
Bass was kicked back on Jay’s pink couch, wearing an amused smile as six-year-old Jay stood before him holding a sparkly plastic microphone. She was dressed in a Royal Mayhem T-shirt, leopard leggings, a hot pink tutu around her waist, a matching hot pink boa around her neck, lime green heart-shaped plastic sunglasses, and hot pink plastic heels. It was the cutest thing I’d ever seen.
I pulled out my phone and pressed Record.
“Are you getting this, Em?” Marcus whispered as he stepped into Jay’s bedroom. “Baby girl, what are you singing?” he asked, scooping her up from the floor before settling her in his lap and peppering kisses all over her face.
“It’s my song, Daddy.” She preened. “I wrote it.” She squirmed out of his hold and off his lap, then skipped over to her little white desk and picked up a piece of paper.
“She did,” Bass confirmed with a nod. “Princess is a genius.”
“See, Daddy?” She pushed the paper into his hands and bounced excitedly on the balls of her feet. “Want me to sing it again?”
“Yes.” Marcus smiled proudly. “But wait for Mommy.” Marcus looked over at me with a grin. “Em, come here.”
Jay turned her attention to the doorway where I was standing. “Mommy!” she squealed. “Come here.”
I walked into the room and sat beside Marcus.
“Jaybird wrote her first song today, and she wants to sing it for us.”
“You did?” I asked, pretending to be surprised. My little girl was truly a genius. Nothing she did surprised me. “I can’t wait to hear it.” I held my phone steady. “Okay, baby. Let’s hear it.”
She sang her six-year-old heart out. The song was about sunshine and the sky. It made no sense, but she was so freaking cute. When she finished the song, Marcus got to his feet, scooped her up in his arms, and spun her around.
“That was beautiful. What’s the name of your song?” I asked.
“‘Zach’!”
That reminds me. “How was your date with Zach last night?”
“I’ll tell you what I just told Alex. Our date was perfect, but I don’t think it’s going to work out.” She turns on her heels and continues down the hall to her music room. I’ve only been in this room once, when Max was showing me around. I didn’t even bring Cam this far during his tour.
“That’s not what you said the other night,” I remind her as I slide next to her on the piano bench. “What happened?”
“I feel like every time things are going perfectly, there’s always something or someone trying to pull us apart. I don’t want to get hurt.”
“Jay.” I reach up and push her ponytail over her shoulder. “If you think Zach has the ability to break your heart, then he might be
worth fighting for.”
She sighs as she fixes her fingers over the piano keys. “I don’t know if I have any fight left in me, to be honest.” She presses down on the keys, and within the first three notes, I know without a doubt she’s playing the first song she ever learned to play, which is one of my favorites.
“Who’s your favorite band?” Marcus asked.
“Will you be offended if I say Journey?”
“No.” He smiled. “I’d say you have great taste in music. Journey is one of my all-time favorite bands.” He grabbed me by the hand and led me over to the piano. “Have a seat.” He gestured to the piano bench before scooting beside me. He fixed his hands over the black and white keys, his fingers floating gracefully over them. I instantly recognized the familiar melody of “Faithfully.” My favorite song.
I didn’t think anyone could sing a love ballad like Steve Perry. Then Marcus King came along. And when the lyrics fell from his mouth, I knew I was in trouble.
I was in love.
Before I have the chance to question her, my phone buzzes with a notification that someone is at the front gate.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell her as I hurry out of the room, stopping at the end of the hall. I stifle a laugh when I see Bass standing at the front door with his phone pressed to his ear, looking through the glass panel.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know anyone by that name,” Bass says. “This is where the princess lives.” There’s a pause, and then he says, “You tell me. Can you?” Another pause. “Enter at your own risk.” He laughs as he pulls his phone from his ear and presses a button.
I stay standing at the edge of the hall and watch in amusement as Bass peeks through the glass panel, chuckling like an excited kid. He swings the door open and I can see the shit-eating grin on his face as he says, “To what do we owe the pleasure, Romeo?” He’s getting too much pleasure out of giving Zach a hard time. Jay would kick his ass.
“Quit messing with him, Bass,” I warn as I walk into the foyer. “She’s in a mood today. Don’t make it worse.”
I jerk my head toward the hallway. “Come on in, Zach.”
He steps inside and brushes his hands down the front of his shorts nervously. Turning, I lead him down the hall. “She’s in here.” Twisting the knob, I push open one of the two doors and Zach follows me inside. “This is her office.”
