AWalk90: I’ll tell you about my relationship status when you show me a picture of yourself or you allow me to google you.
JSpear84: You can google whatever you want because you won’t find me, I don’t have a cyber print.
AWalk90: I’ve heard people pay a lot of money to do that. Who did you pay? I might need someone like that for my clients?
JSpear84: If you ever need someone, let me know I’ll hook you up with them, but I’ll keep the information to myself for now.
AWalk90: Are you ever going to tell me what happened to you, why you hide?
JSpear84: Why do you assume I’m hiding something?
AWalk90: People don’t close themselves to the outside just because they decided one day it was easier to be in their own world. There’s always a reason. And I’m curious by nature.
JSpear84: I have a feeling that it takes one to know one. What are you hiding, Amy?
AWalk90: Maybe I’m a hired assassin, and I’m planning your execution. Or I can also be someone else hiding from everyone because life became too complicated. Maybe I lost myself, and I can’t bring who I was back.
JSpear84: Let me know if you need any help finding yourself. I’m great at searching. I aced Where’s Waldo.
AWalk90: You’ll be the first one I contact if I decide to do it. Do I have to buy a red and white striped sweater?
JSpear84: Ha!
AWalk90: Time for me to go back to work. I hate to burst your bubble, but you’re not my only client.
JSpear84: One last thing, I need date night ideas.
AWalk90: In Denver?
AWalk90: I sent you a few links, not sure what you want to do but you can start there. Who are you dating?
JSpear84: You’re not helping me much.
AWalk90: I’m your virtual, not personal assistant. Virtually, I gave you a big hand.
AWalk90: Who are you dating?
JSpear84: I forget you think you’re funny.
AWalk90: My best trait.
Chapter Fifteen
Jack
Saturday, April 30th, 8:27 a.m.
I never thought about having a favorite sound. I like music. Not as much as my assistant. Still, I enjoy a good tune. But today I realized there’s one sound I love more, and I can listen to for eternity. It’s a sexy voice, not too gravely but not shriek either. It’s just different from everything I’ve ever heard before.
It’s a sound that I like to hear over the phone every time I call her, and so far, I’ve called her seven times this past week. Six of them I was sent to voicemail. The seventh was the last time I was going to try her before I gave up on us. A man can only take so much rejection. That’s when she finally answered apologizing for not calling me back and explaining how busy she’d been at work.
“Sorry, it was a long week,” she said with a soft, sleepy voice.
I understood. I felt just the same. My week had been long and tiresome. There were too many emergencies and not enough time to solve everything by myself. I’m just thankful Amy was able to move around her schedule to concentrate on my company. I owe her a lot and when I say I owe her a lot, I mean financially. She sent me the bill. I’m paying her a freaking fortune.
I hope they pay her at least half of what they charged me for all the hours she worked this month. Or that she at least gets a nice bonus by the end of the year.
“Have you ever driven up to Aspen in the fall?” Emmeline asks, and I feel like shit for thinking about Amy while I’m with my date.
“Thank you for giving me a second chance. A voice message canceling our plans was an asshole move, but I was swamped,” I say. I’m trying to focus on the road even though I’m dying to look at her.
“Seriously, you shouldn’t worry about it,” she says lightly. “Like you, my week was hellish. One of my biggest clients was in deep trouble.”
“So, you saved the day.”
“Yeah, but I’m sure he wouldn’t recognize it as such. He has trouble accepting help or recognizing that he can’t do stuff by himself. Once everything was under control, he just said, “you did a good job, make sure to bill me all your hours.”
What a fucker? I think but say, “He didn’t thank you or give you some kind of recognition. For going above and beyond?”
“A thank you is all I get from him most of the time. At least now I get a heartfelt thank you,” she says and sighs. “If I sleep for a couple of weeks, I might recover.”
Knowing she isn’t treated well by some asshole, I continue asking her questions. “Just like that, he wouldn’t acknowledge that you just saved his ass?
“A couple of months ago I’d have told you he’s just an ungrateful asshole who thinks everyone should serve him. Now, I think he has a hard time asking for help and trusting others.”
Which I’m guessing is something Emmeline doesn’t understand. She must live in a world where the magic happens, and everyone is friendly with her. You can’t just trust everyone. Though, Amy makes me wonder if I’m doing it wrong. She mentioned early this week that I was lucky to have a great team to lean on. It was the first time I looked closely at my people and saw them as assets and not just employees.
“Do you always go above and beyond for your clients?”
“Sometimes,” she answers absently. “It all depends on the project.”
“What do you do?”
She sighs. “I own a company; it’s complicated to explain what I do.”.
“Legal advice?” I guess.
“I’m not a lawyer. Though, I can technically go through contracts and understand them since I interned for my parent’s legal firm from the age of sixteen,” she explains vividly. “When I was that age, I hated it, but now I see the benefits. At least when I receive a contract for review, I don’t only proof the typos, but I also can give input about the clauses.”
“Sounds like you’ve done it a few times.”
“It’s one of my trades,” she says. “Are you going to tell me what you do for a living?”
“It’s boring, I work for a software company,” I say vaguely. Is it lying not telling her that I own it, run it, and I acquire technology and patents by merging with smaller companies?
“What do you do for them?”
“Programming, but during my free time, I’m trying to create things for the future that will help us.”
“Like Artificial Intelligence?” she asks, a little annoyed.
“Not at all. But if anyone asked me, I’d say yes because it’s too complicated to explain.”
“No wonder your parents support you, you’re super smart and trying to build a better tomorrow. Maybe I should’ve chosen a profession like that. Not that my parents would care any one way or the other.”
I’m not sure what to do with that comment. It doesn’t sound bitter, just sad.
“Do you see them often?”
“My parents?” she asks, and I nod keeping my eyes on the road. “No, I haven’t seen them in years.”
“How about your brothers and sisters?” I ask her because I can’t imagine not seeing my family for that long.
There’s no answer when I glance her way, I see her staring out the window. I’m confused as to what to do. Break the silence or wait for her to continue.
“I don’t talk about my family much,” she says as we are about to arrive. “It’s a lot more complicated to explain my family dynamic than it is the world’s economy. One day I might tell you if you really want to be a part of my messy world.”
The last sentence isn’t long, but the meaning behind it scares me. There’s more to Emmeline than her soft exterior. A messy world where I might not be able to fit. I already know how things end when you try to mold yourself into a space you don’t belong. She has secrets I want to know, but then again, I hide my past too.
I laugh as I park right in front of my favorite pub in Aspen. Later, we’ll come back and have dinner here.
“Did I say something funny?” she asks, her tone miffed.
�
��We’re quite the pair,” I explain, brushing back the strands of dark hair around her beautiful face, wondering if this is the right time to kiss her. “There’s so much I would like to share with you, but I’m not ready.”
Her eyes brighten just as the corner of her lips pull into a big smile.
“It’s a good thing we met,” she says looking at my hand which is cupping her face. “We could keep each other company while we’re trying to sift our messy lives.”
Her words strike the right place in my heart. It’s as if she understands me without even trying. Clearly, we’re comfortable with each other but we both have so much going on and can’t open up until we trust ourselves.
I like that she doesn’t pressure me to share about myself. She’s interested in me, which is why I won’t be telling her that I’m Jackson Spearman the CEO of EMC technologies.
Is that all I want from her, just company?
At the moment, I can’t see myself offering much more. A relationship sounds like a lifetime commitment, even if it’s something that can finish at any given moment. My soul tells me I want more than a conversation. Though, I definitely want to kiss her, act on our intense attraction.
Could I keep it as simple as casual conversation, good company, and great sex?
Though, I feel like she could offer so much more. Taking it would be playing with fire. I can’t go there anymore.
I’ve been burned once.
The flames burnt me to ashes, and I don’t think I’ve ever recovered. I’m not a phoenix. This has to stay casual and light. I like her company, but I won’t ever be ready to fall again.
This moment feels crucial and yet, I don’t feel as if we should fill it with words. What can I say?
“I’m sorry I’m such a mess that you might not get more out of me than dates and good sex?”
Would she understand that I just can’t let anyone into my life? I still taste the past. More times than not, I choked on it, wishing I had done things differently. Today I feel the weight of the present pushing me back to a hole. Why didn’t I find her before …? If this were a book, I’d love to turn the pages and see what’s at the end of this chapter. Would it be worth it for either one of us to continue fooling ourselves when we already know that maybe this could become just another failed relationship? I can’t let myself be vulnerable, and she can’t fix whatever she believes is broken in her mind.
“Penny for your thoughts, beautiful Emmeline?”
“Solve?” She rests the weight of her head on my hand and closes her eyes.
There’s a need inside me to hold her and assure her that I am great at solving problems. That two heads are better than one and we could—what? I might run away the moment I feel like she’s invading my perfect, well-organized life.
“I’m trying to find a new me,” she explains opening her eyes. “See once there was this girl who tried to make everyone else happy, she could balance her own happiness all along. She was selfish when I decided I came in first. But as I grow older, I think it wasn’t selfishness, I was just young.”
Her big brown eyes stare at me. “I guess that’s what you do when you’re young.”
“What exactly are you talking about?”
“You live your life and try to be happy—without thinking about how you affect others.”
“A friend of mine would call you smart, not selfish. She’d support you and remind you to be yourself above anything else.”
Thinking of Amy gives me the answer to why I decided to ask this woman out when I saw her in the bookstore. I can’t lie that a part of me had hoped she was Amy. I mean who else would spend her evening searching for a treasure?
“Yeah, that’s why I’m taking this step,” I say out loud and then press my lips together regretting my words because I’m thinking about Amy and my past.
Focus on your present, Amy would say. In the end, everything will work out.
“I’m a step?” she asks curiously.
“I don’t mean it in a bad way,” I clarify. “More like—”
“Hey, don’t fix it actually, I’m honored. Something about me made you take a step out of your comfort zone.”
She moves closer to me until our faces are inches apart. “Do you want to know a secret?”
“You’re the first real person I’ve opened up to in years. That makes us each other’s steps.”
I reach for her hand and squeeze it lightly. “Thank you,” I say. I relax, and my chest loosens up because I don’t feel alone.
This moment is precious. It might not be our first kiss but it’s the foundation of whatever we become. Maybe later we will confess to each other how we came to be, but for now, I take what she can give me because she’s willing to wait for me.
Chapter Sixteen
Jack
Saturday, April 30th, 9:32 a.m.
I moved to Colorado six years ago. During which time, I’ve lived under the assumption that everyone who resided in this state skis. That was, until now, as we stand outside the rental store and Emmeline’s eyes are wide open and her mouth pressed tightly. She’s either thinking I’m an idiot or wondering how to tell me that this isn’t for her.
“Do you ski?” I dare to ask, almost sure about her answer.
“Do I whiskey?” She smiles coyly or maybe with slight embarrassment.
“You think you’re funny,”
“That’s one of my best talents Jack, and I’m a woman of many, but skiing isn’t one of them.”
“You’re a comedian who can’t ski,” I conclude.
“Exactly.” She gives me a sharp nod. “The only winter sport I ever tried was figure skating. Mom decided I’d be great at it since I practiced ballet and gymnastics.”
“You win any medals?” I ask trying to remember any famous figure skaters.
“None. I sucked. I wasn’t graceful. Honestly, I wasn’t a graceful ballerina either, but I guess if you don’t have blades threatening to cut you because you’re one of the clumsiest people in the world, you can fake being a good dancer.”
“Your mom expected a lot from you, didn’t she?”
She chuckles shaking her head. “You don’t know the half of it. Thankfully it was my trainer who said “You can’t bring her again. Get her out of my rink.””
She laughs, and it’s such a happy and contagious sound that I join her. Emmeline puzzles me, she can change moods so quickly, and I like that she’s usually in a good one.
“Based on the fake accent I’m guessing he was Russian,” I ask once we calm down.
“I think he was Romanian, but I can’t be sure since I never asked. The point of this conversation, is that you won’t see me on a snowboard or a pair of skis.”
She nods once, straightening her shoulders and raising her chin. “Ask me to do a downward facing dog or any yoga pose, I won’t even need to warm up.”
I drop my gaze to her lips and move my gaze to her beautiful wide hips. Big mistake. My brain goes haywire. All I want is to see her on all fours, ass up in the air and—fuck get your head out of your ass—or her ass.
Fine, let’s not go skiing, why don’t you show me those poses—naked.
I don’t want to come on strong. She’s killing me though with all those images of her being bendy and stretchy. Alex once dated a yoga instructor and said it was the best sex of his life. There’s an incentive to make this work. And now I sound like a perverted lunatic.
“Would you like to go shopping then?”
I feel like this date is a bust. She scrunches up her nose as if I just slapped her. That’s when it occurs to me that I should take out my phone and check for used book stores. There should be something around that we can do that doesn’t include winter sports. Google maps only lists the library. Fuck. I tap the VAES app and message Amy. She can get me out of this mess.
“What are we doing?”
“Sending a message to a friend,” I explain.
“Okay?” she sounds a little miffed.
“Not to worry,
she knows the area pretty well and can get us out of a bind.”
Is it a lie? I have no idea if Amy knows the area or not, but she always comes through with answers. I’m hoping that if I ask her, she’ll find something for me to do. Those lists on what to do in Denver seemed helpful. Unfortunately I chose Aspen. What a fucking idiot. The app says she’s offline. A second later, an email notification pops up. I open it and groan.
* * *
Amy Walker, I can’t believe you failed me.
I pinch the bridge of my nose while I try to make a quick decision. There’s an antique store not far away from where we stand. It might not be a bookstore, but this could work. It’s a risk I have to take. It’s better than driving back home.
“Sorry for messing up your date plans,” she apologizes.
“Please, do not apologize. I’m sorry for not considering you might not ski. I should’ve asked what you like to do during the winter,” I say and then rephrase because it’s already May. “Or when you drive up to the mountains.”
“I like cozying up next to the fireplace with a book and watch the snow fall,” she says.
“Walking around while it’s snowing isn’t really my thing unless,” I say. “I’m reading it and the author writes some hot scenes where the hero does an off the charts crazy gesture. Or at least, he describes how these two people walk holding hands feeling as if they’re inside a snow globe and the magic of their love is all they need to keep them warm.”
I look around. It’s not snowing, and there’s no snow on the ground, though there’s plenty of powder on the slopes.
“These authors have never been in Colorado,” I state.
“You’re missing the point. It’s the symbolism behind it, how the person you love is enough to make you forget everything around you.”
I hang my head, trying not to laugh. This woman analyzes books in minute detail. Who really thinks about the symbolism of holding hands during a fucking blizzard? Not once in my life have I ever thought about warm skin, holding hands, or cozying up by the fire.
Vivian, my ex-wife, would have rather cozied up next to a designer faux fur, and her entourage, than me. We lived in a fucking snow globe where it was always cold. I married her because we looked perfect on paper. She was one of those women who always looks poised and ready for the next photo op. After all these years, I’ve come to realize that neither one of us looked too much to each other for intimacy. At twenty-five, I never thought about the future, until it was too late, and I was already drowning in the hell she had dragged me into.
Maybe Later Page 10