by C. C. Piper
Nella was his housekeeper, but I thought of her more as a cleaning lady extraordinaire. She stopped by once a week and made his home so fresh and shiny it put my own housekeeping skills to shame. It must be nice to be able to hire a professional to do such things.
I thought about the state of my apartment since my brother was there alone and shuddered. I needed to go by personally and check on him, not only to see how he was doing, but to make certain he hadn’t allowed our living space to morph into a pigsty.
For now, texts and calls would have to do. I’d wrapped up one project only to have two more hit at once. I’d been rising early and staying up late in order to manage the workload.
Still, I’d never had to deal with being unfairly accused of a heinous crime like James had. It made me consider him with different eyes.
For a long minute, I stood in the shadows, watching him putting things in his dishwasher. James Carter was a good man and he deserved so much better.
The alarm on my phone beeped again. I grabbed my wayward attention and refocused it on Evan.
You awake, I texted my brother as a precursor to calling him up. I hated to wake him if I could avoid it.
Yes.
I called him then, getting annoyed when he didn’t instantly pick up. He’d just said he was awake. It rang four times before I heard Evan’s familiar voice.
“You okay?” I said by way of greeting, though it came out as more of a demand.
“Jesus, yes, I’m okay. Why do you always assume I’m not?”
“Because you didn’t answer.”
“Can’t a man hit the head without the third fucking degree?”
Well, fine. Still, I couldn’t stop parenting him. He sounded normal if a bit hoarse. But working as a card dealer meant speaking incessantly. It was the most likely reason his voice sounded like he’d been swallowing sandpaper. I hated that he worked in an environment not conducive to kicking his addictions, but he insisted it was the only thing he was good at.
“How’s work?”
“Same old, same old.”
“You’ll contact me if you need anything?”
“Yeah.” He sounded distracted now.
“Evan?”
“Jesus, Em.” I’d well and truly aggravated my brother now, but I didn’t care. I needed a straight answer. “I’ll contact you if I need anything. Chillax, will ya? Gotta go.”
Then, he disconnected before I could say anything more.
Frustrated by my brother and unsettled by James’ story about his ex, I padded through my room and into the area set up as my office. Pushing through the slatted wood doors, I stepped out into the still night air. Evan and I hadn’t grown up in a religious home, but sometimes, when I didn’t know what else to do, I prayed for guidance.
Now, as my brain churned itself into a tumultuous goo, I prayed that my brother would find his way. I prayed for forgiveness and for easier decisions in the future. And though it might seem ironic or even counterintuitive given our unique circumstances, I prayed that James would find a woman worthy of him.
13
James
As I watched Emma go up the stairs and back to her room, I forced myself to reevaluate my overall plan. I’d convinced her into staying with me to get to know her better while letting her believe it was about repaying her debt. I had thought maybe I could reach out to her, help her, become her friend. But now, I had to admit to myself that none of that was enough.
I wanted more. Yet, I might not be able to get it.
It’d been a week and a half since I’d kissed her. Since I’d felt her pressed up against me so appealingly. I’d thought we’d made some real progress that night, that she’d let her walls down with me after that, but she hadn’t.
If anything, she seemed to become more careful with what she shared about herself. And more annoyingly, she’d gleaned more information—some pretty heavy stuff, too—out of me.
While I knew about her parents and about her struggles in that regard, I still didn’t have specifics about why she’d felt the need to steal fifty grand from me. I knew it had something to do with her brother being in trouble, but every time I broached the subject, she dodged it somehow.
Suddenly, she would need to go back to work and make a call. Or, she’d cunningly flip the script on me to make me talk about myself. I let her the first few times, thinking she’d be more likely to do the same, but tonight she’d siphoned things out of me that I’d rather forget.
I hadn’t been prepared to tell her about Sofia of all people. The woman had not only ripped my heart out and dropped it into a live blender, she’d also been the one who’d done everything she possibly could to ruin me all because I dared to break up with her.
What was about Emma Morris that caused me to bare my soul?
Was it because I’d become so addicted to observing her? I banned myself from peeping at her on my security app anymore since it made me feel like a stalker, but once I’d caught her cooking downstairs with wet hair. I knew she must’ve taken many showers while I was home, but somehow seeing those damp tendrils of golden brown sent my imagination into overdrive.
I could visualize her here in my home, shampoo bubbling through her long tresses, soapy water sluicing along her bare breasts, past her tiny waist and down her mile-long legs. The thought of all that wet skin made me rise to the occasion so quickly and prominently that I’d felt grateful for being able to hide my condition beneath the dining room table.
Every single time I took my own shower after that, I’d had to wrap a hand around myself and release some of my pent-up sexual frustration. But even this didn’t help. I’d grow hard each time she waltzed into my presence.
I felt like a horny teenage boy. I’d always prided myself on my ability to gain the upper hand in any business negotiation, to wrangle for control and keep it throughout the duration. Yet with Emma, all my control had been shot to hell.
And my time with her was drawing to a close far too swiftly for my liking. In less than three weeks, she’d go back to her life, likely without ever interacting with me once we signed those annulment forms.
I didn’t want to sign them. As irrational as it might sound, I wanted Emma to stay my wife not just on paper but in spirit as well. Although she would never admit to needing any kind of assistance, I knew she led a challenging existence.
I could help her if she’d just let me.
I felt things for her I wasn’t quite ready to define. All I knew for sure was that I didn’t want her to walk out of my life.
The following morning, I stood outside watching the sunrise. As usual, I’d slept only five hours last night before rolling off my mattress. I required less rest than most ever since I could remember and it often gave me an edge.
While dealing with the whole Sofia catastrophe, however, I’d experienced a raging case of insomnia that once kept me up for seven days straight. At one point, I even began to hallucinate. Mauricio caught me conducting a study group for people who weren’t even there. It’d been scary, and though I detested taking medication of any kind, I’d finally surrendered and taken a mild over the counter sedative.
It knocked me out for eighteen hours, but I quit holding imaginary get-togethers.
I tried not to think of those stressful days. That time when so many people had viewed me with disgust and hatred in their eyes. I’d felt like a criminal. Like I’d done something repulsive. Had it not been for Mauricio, Richard, and especially my mom and dad, I’m not certain I would’ve made it through.
Now that I was alone again, I glanced at my watch. It was nearing midnight, but I could trust that even at this hour, it wouldn’t be too late.
Taking out my phone, I hit the landline number still labeled “Home.” I should probably change it, but right then, it felt right to consider the place where I’d been raised as my home. I’d spent a lot more time there than I had at this villa, after all.
“Jamesy,” my mother said from the other end, using the nickname only s
he was allowed to use. My shoulders relaxed just at the sound of it. “How are you, sweetie?”
“Good.”
“You don’t sound good. John, grab that other line, something’s up with James.”
Damn, how did she know? She always knew. Was it because I was an only child? Or was I simply too transparent? I’d never been able to determine how she saw right through my bullshit no matter what. She’d known something was up after my breakup with Sofia too.
When I was a kid, I remembered reading Harry Potter and wondering if she was part witch. It made sense to me at the time. A part of me still wondered now.
“What is it, son?” Dad asked.
I smiled. I really did have the best parents in the world.
“Nothing, honestly. I just needed to…” To what? I couldn’t tell them about Emma. Not the full truth, anyway. Especially not the marriage part. Maybe I’d leave out some of the gorier details. “I met a woman.”
“Uh huh,” Mom encouraged with her tone, prompting me to say more without being too pushy about it.
“But it’s uh… complicated.” Understatement, much?
“Do you like her?” Dad asked.
I pictured the way she’d laughed with me at dinner that night. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”
“Then, what’s so complicated?”
“Well, she’s got a bunch of stuff on her plate right now.”
“What does she do?” Mom inquired.
“She’s a graphic designer. Freelance.”
“Oh, how exciting!” That was Mom. She always saw the good in everyone. Yet, she’d had reservations she’d voiced about Sofia when I started dating her. I should’ve fucking listened.
“She lost both her parents in an accident six years ago and she has a little brother she feels responsible for.”
“That is a bunch of stuff for one young woman’s plate,” Mom commented. I could tell she was reserving judgment.
Emma is also gorgeous, smart, tough as nails, and sexier than any woman I’ve ever seen. Wasn’t going to say that, though. Couldn’t say anything about her divesting me of fifty thousand, either. I took a deep breath.
“I probably want more from her than she’s willing to give.” Truth.
“How long have you been dating her?” Dad questioned me.
“A few weeks.”
“Maybe it’s a little early for… more,” Dad suggested. “She may just need some time.”
“Time is one thing I don’t have much of where she’s involved.”
“Ooh, that does sound complicated,” Mom put in, but she didn’t ask me to elaborate. My parents always seemed to know which lines to cross and which lines not to. “Well, without knowing specifics, I’ll just say this: get out of your own way.”
I ran a hand down my closely trimmed beard. I needed to take the clippers to it later. “Care to explain that?”
“You’re an overthinker, Jamesy. Always have been. You’ll think about things until you’re doing nothing but going in circles with no way out. If you shut off your mind a bit, you’ll know what to do concerning this lady friend of yours. Quiet your mind. Meditate on it. Allow the answers to come, and they will.”
“You’re sharp, son,” Dad added. “And not just book smart, you have good instincts as well. But only when you slow down and let them guide you.”
I chuckled into my cell. Their advice not only soothed me, but I knew it would work because it’d never failed me yet. “Thanks, Mom and Dad. I love you.”
“We love you, too,” they said in stereo before disconnecting.
See, that’s what I wanted. My parents were soulmates. So far, they’d shared four decades of happiness together. They weren’t perfect since no one was, but they seldom fought and communicated frequently without holding back their opinions. They laughed at the same kinds of jokes, thoroughly and genuinely enjoying one another’s company. They were affectionate with each other too, even after all those years.
I wanted that so much. I wanted it with every fiber of my being.
And though I wasn’t certain why, I felt like if I could just get her to open up with me, I could have it with Emma. So I followed my parents’ advice.
I changed into my swim trunks and dove into the nine-foot end of my kidney-shaped pool. I did a series of laps until the endorphins bounced throughout my body. After a while, I turned onto my back and simply laid there on the surface, floating.
With my ears under the water, all I could hear was the sound of my own heartbeat. Its steadiness put me in a state of calm. I slowed my breathing, did my best to turn off my brain, and just let myself be.
I don’t know how long I remained out there, floating in the reflection of the stars in the dark, but by the time I came back inside, I didn’t feel confused or worried anymore.
I rinsed off in my shower, then climbed into bed, for once not feeling frustrated or horny at all. I closed my eyes and let sleep take me, knowing the answers would come.
14
Emma
As if I’d summoned him from the ether with my prayer, James appeared out on his patio. Without hesitation, he dove into the deep end of his pool, doing a breaststroke as his powerful physique moved fluidly down the middle of the enclosure.
I held my hand over my mouth to stifle my gasp. I’d never seen him like this, and James Carter in a pair of swim trunks was quite a sight to behold. I’d known he must be in decent shape, just based on how he looked in a suit and tie, but having a front row seat to all that exposed skin made me feel hot even as I shivered.
Before meeting James, the phrase “sex on a stick” never would’ve occurred to me if I were to think about chefs and restaurant owners. But as I ogled this Adonis of a man slicing his way through the clear blue water below me, sex on a stick was the most accurate description I could come up with.
My God, he was breathtaking.
His skin appeared smooth and golden under the illumination of his patio lights, the muscles of his arms, legs, and torso defined and working as he swam with flawless grace up and down the length of the pool. His biceps and triceps bunched in unison as he glided through the water, his glistening pecs and washboard abs visible once he stopped his momentum and lay prone on the surface.
I stepped back so he wouldn’t see me from where I stood, my eyes still taking him in. On his chest was a light dusting of hair that shot downwards in a line underneath his navel and vanished into his swimsuit.
He seemed incredibly placid as he floated there, his body effortlessly holding itself just right. The stress that I’d witnessed in his face earlier when he’d told me about his evil ex had disappeared, leaving nothing but unmarred skin.
He had an athletic build that made me want to spring off this balcony and wrap myself around him like a scarf. If I’d realized that the man I’d married had been concealing all this masculine beauty that night, I might’ve made any annulment impossible. I was pretty damn sure I wouldn’t have been able to resist James Carter in the buff.
Not that he was totally in the buff at the moment, but still. Holy. Fucking. Moly.
What would it be like to run my fingers through that chest hair and follow it south? What would it be like to watch his tall frame hovering over me? Or to feel the weight of him between my legs as he sank his body into mine?
It’d been a long time for me when it came to any kind of sexual gratification. On occasion, I dug my vibrator out of my underwear drawer, but I hadn’t done even that in forever. The more I discovered about this man, the more difficult it became to come up with reasons not to indulge myself and give in to him. I already knew his scorching kisses could curl my toes. What could he do for me if I allowed things to progress along their natural course?
Something amazing, no doubt.
Right then, I was sorely tempted to find out precisely how good that progression would be.
During my misspent youth, I’d been rather reckless and sexually adventurous, but then one wayward member of the local wildlife had ended my pa
rent’s lives and irrevocably altered mine. From that point on, my world had shrunken to Evan and the freelancing business I’d used to support us. I had to basically grow the hell up overnight, and I did. Not that there was anything noble about that. I hadn’t had a choice.
Maybe that was why leering at James right now was making me crazy. My panties had grown damp and he wasn’t even aware of my presence staring at him from the shadows.
For a second, I allowed my imagination to run rampant with me. What if my life was different? What if I didn’t have the responsibility of caring for my brother and financially supporting us over my head? Would I still have been in that bar trying to seduce some old dude so I could casually rip him off, or would I have been there looking for a real date?
What if I’d met James under more traditional circumstances? What if we’d had a whirlwind romance and marriage, but instead of it being a mistake, we just went with it? What if we’d consummated that marriage and decided to do our best to make it work? What if we’d eventually grown to care about each other, maybe even love each other over time?
What if?
It made for a beautiful fantasy. It really did.
But my life wasn’t about what I wanted. It hadn’t been for a long time.
Every action I took had far-reaching consequences, some of which could make my brother and I homeless or even lead to true peril.
I gazed down at James again, memorizing everything I could make out about him from my current vantage. Though I didn’t normally let myself go down useless rabbit trails, I was willing to admit that I wanted him. For the night and maybe for even more.
But I couldn’t have him.
I stared at him for one more minute, then slipped back inside, knowing my only safe decision would be to stay alone.
That night I dreamed not of James’ hunk of a body, but of the story he’d shared with me about the girlfriend who had so cruelly attempted to ruin him. The dreams weren’t pleasant. I dreamt that everyone he’d known had turned on him with everything devolving into a witch hunt as a mob went after him with torches and pitchforks.
