by Jordyn White
Maybe. Maybe not. I have a few questions of my own, ones I’ll ask as soon as I get Aaron alone.
We get Aaron home and Pierce gets him settled in bed while I pour some orange juice and get a slice of wheat bread. When Aaron sees what I have for him, he tries complaining, saying he wants to follow Sergei’s instructions for sugar-free vitamin water.
“Sergei can go fuck himself,” I say. “I’ll go to the store and get something with electrolytes in a minute, but I want you to get this in your body first.”
I only get him to eat half the bread, but he does at least drink the juice. Pierce goes into the kitchen for more, and I take my opportunity to find out what I want to know. “Are you purging?”
He shakes his head, still looking clammy and weak.
“Laxatives? Tea?” There’s a special tea some people use to get things moving through their system before they can absorb too many calories. That shit is dangerous sometimes, too. He shakes his head again.
“Are you lying to me?”
“No, Emma. Fuck. I just didn’t drink enough today, all right? Sergei was pushing us hard and it was hot as a fucking sauna in there. I can’t eat anymore though. I feel too sick. I just want to sleep.”
I know he could be lying to me, but since heat exhaustion actually is plausible, I’m hoping that’s all this is. Aaron doesn’t exactly have a healthy relationship with food and he needs to eat more than he does, but I’ve never seen any signs that he’s gone beyond that either.
“All right. Get some rest.”
Finally starting to calm down, I go back into the kitchen. Pierce looks shaken. I rub his broad shoulder. “He’ll be okay.” He’s leaning on the counter, bracing himself with both hands.
“I heard you.”
My stomach drops and my hand freezes. “I was only making sure.”
He looks at me. “Do you believe him?”
I lift one shoulder. “I think so.”
“He doesn’t eat enough.”
“I know.”
“I’ve talked to him about it. It doesn’t help. If anything, it seems to make things worse.”
I nod. “I know.”
“I feel so helpless. I just want to knock some sense into him sometimes.”
“It could be worse. A lot worse. And it’ll probably be different when he retires.”
Pierce gives a humorless laugh. “Yeah, years from now.”
“It was just heat exhaustion. He’ll be okay.” I might be trying to comfort myself as much as Pierce.
He doesn’t seem comforted at all. Pierce isn’t stupid. Even if it was just heat exhaustion today, that doesn’t change everything else.
I shrug again. “Look, it’s not something we can control.”
He pops off the counter, and starts marching back toward the studio. “You’re right. I can’t stop him from hurting himself and I can’t stop you from hurting yourself either.”
“Hey!” Well that sure as hell came out of left field. I hustle out of the kitchen, following Pierce and lowering my voice. “It’s not the same thing.”
He gives me a firm look. “It’s exactly the same thing. You’re both hell-bent on destroying yourselves. What the fuck am I supposed to do about that?”
“I’m not. I just...” I sweep my arm around me, “Look where I’m living. I have nothing. A few boxes full of crap and a suitcase. I need the fucking money.”
He shakes his head and says softer, but still firmly. “Not as much as you think you do.”
Easy for him to say.
He goes to my purse that’s sitting on the table, and opens it.
“What are you doing?”
He retrieves my phone and holds it out to me. “You have a place to stay and food to eat. And friends willing to help you until you can provide those things for yourself. That’s more than some people have.”
I look at my phone. I know what he wants me to do. But even after what happened yesterday, the thought of quitting makes me physically ill to my stomach, and not just because giving up a week’s worth of pay hurts. In spite of everything, walking away from Rayce feels... wrong.
But that’s probably my messed up feelings throwing everything out of whack, right? As an outside observer, Pierce has to see this situation with more clarity than I do. This is just... me making the same mistake all over again.
So why does it feel so different?
“Tell him you quit.”
I open my mouth to protest.
“Give me one fucking victory today, will you?”
I press my lips together. After what happened yesterday, I should’ve quit already. Maybe I really am like Aaron, hell-bent on my own self-destruction. Pierce is right. He has to be.
I take my phone and pull up Rayce’s number.
Chapter 20
Rayce
I can’t work for you anymore.
That’s what her text says. I fucked this up all the way around. Not only have I pushed her away, I’ve cost her a job.
Me: You don’t have to do that. I’m sorry.
Emma: I can’t see you again.
Me: Then I’ll stay away.
Emma: You won’t.
I can’t blame her for thinking that. I’m not even sure she’s wrong. I toss my phone next to me on the couch. I’m in the game room but the TV isn’t on. After I put Emma’s lasagna in the oven, I came down here as an escape but it’s not working. I’m too turned around to think about anything else. Normally, I look forward to dinner with my siblings and my cousin. But right now, all I want to do is sleep.
Me: You shouldn’t lose income over this. I’ll stay away. Really.
But I don’t hear back. I manage to avoid responding for seven whole minutes. You’re doing such a good job. This isn’t your fault. I’ll let you work in peace.
Still no reply. I don’t know if she’s thinking about it, or just ignoring me because she’s made up her mind. I still can’t believe I screwed this up so badly.
I lie down on my side, exhausted from too little sleep and too much stress. I consider half a dozen different texts I could send her, but even though I want to, I don’t send any of them.
It feels too much like begging, and I don’t beg.
A light pat, pat, pat on my cheek wakes me up. I open my eyes to find Little Max, Lizzy’s future stepson, blinking at me, maybe a foot away from my face. He’s probably the sweetest six-year-old boy I’ve ever met. Not that I’ve met many.
“Uncle Rayce?” he whispers loudly. “Are you sleeping?”
Not anymore.
“No.”
“Daddy said I have to be quiet so I don’t wake you.”
“You’re being very quiet.”
He grins, proud of himself. His grin widens as I sit up and rub my eyes. I can guess what he’s thinking.
“Can I have a piggyback ride?”
I must have really crashed out, because I come up into the living room to discover everybody’s already here. Lizzy with her fiancé Brett, Connor with his wife Whitney, and my cousin Corrine with her boyfriend Mason.
Everyone’s paired up and happy. And for the first time ever, I resent it.
This is not like me. All the people I love most in the world are in my living room, and it’s made me happy to see my siblings and cousin find people who love them so well. I’ve been accused of being overly protective, and as the oldest brother, that’s probably true. But someone has to look after them, and if that means watching for signs that anything is amiss, well then that’s what I’m going to do. No one gets to hurt my family.
But all I see is the spark in Lizzy’s eyes when she looks at Brett, the sense of wholeness and well-being Whitney has brought to Connor, and the way Corrine snuggles into Mason like he’s the living incarnation of safety and peace.
This is the kind of stuff I look for, because these little clues are the kind of things you can’t fake. They’re the kind of things that reassure me that their happiness is real and there isn’t trouble brewing behind closed do
ors.
It truly makes me happy.
So never before have I been with them and cared at all that I was the only one who’s still single. I’ve never resented it. I’ve just been happy for them.
But today?
Today it hurts. Because there’s only one woman I’ve ever wanted by my side in such an intimate, family setting, and I may have broken things between us forever.
I let little Max off my shoulders. He spots Corrine’s new puppy in the dining room and runs off to play with him.
“There he is,” Corrine says. She looks like a delicate sprite of a thing, thanks to two battles with cancer, but she’s a pretty tough cookie. Even though she’s a cousin, she feels more like another sibling because we were all raised so close together. “We were wondering if we should call an ambulance,” she teases. “It’s not like you to sleep in the middle of the day.”
“I didn’t sleep well last night.”
“Everything okay?” Lizzy asks.
“Fine.”
“I don’t know,” Connor says in his teasing voice. “Things are pretty weird around here. Did you know you have an actual meal cooking in your oven?”
“Ha ha.” I sink into a chair. Normally I enjoy our monthly sibling dinners, but I’m in no mood for this today. Smelling Emma’s lasagna cooking is not helping matters. Why didn’t I just order pizza?
“Is that something your personal chef prepared for you?” Whitney asks.
I nod.
“What’s her name again?”
“Emma.” My heart tightens as her name passes over my lips.
“What do you think of Alice’s little experiment?” Connor asks.
“I think I can prepare my own damn meals.”
Light laughter skitters around the group. I’m feeling prickly, but apparently that’s not coming across. It’s just as well. This isn’t their fault.
“Texting Guido does not count as preparing a meal,” Connor says.
I don’t respond to this.
“So are you going to tell Alice you’ve tried it and didn’t like it?” Lizzy asks.
“Not so fast,” Connor says easily, his arm on the back of the couch and his fingers absently playing with the ends of Whitney’s dark hair. “Let’s see how her lasagna tastes first. If it’s good enough, I say we take a vote and overrule Mr. Pizza over there.”
Whitney gives Connor a gentle jab with her elbow. “Stop picking on him. Look how tired he is.”
“I’m fine.”
But Whitney’s comment seems to have kicked in Lizzy’s radar. My sister cocks her head at me, a more serious expression on her face. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Fine. I just couldn’t sleep last night, for some reason.” Time to redirect the conversation to a safer topic. “How’s the wedding planning coming?”
This does the trick. My sister’s face lights up. “Really well. In fact, yesterday Renée and I got the flowers picked out.” Renee is the resort’s Events Manager, and is helping Lizzy put things together. I have no doubt it will be a grand affair.
She turns her attention to the women in the room. “You have to see the bouquet.” She grabs her phone, which has been sitting on the coffee table. “Here, I have a picture.” The girls shuffle around and gather next to Lizzy while she shows them the various pictures on her phone.
Things are moving on and I’m happy to fade into the background and take on the role of overseer. Mason asks if anybody wants a drink and gets up to retrieve some beers. Brett goes into the dining room to check on Little Max and the dog.
I think I’m safe from uncomfortable topics, when Lizzy hits me with this. “Oh, Rayce. You’re not allowed to keep changing your mind about who you’re bringing to the wedding, like you did with Connor. I’m not getting table placards printed three different times.”
“They didn’t even have table placards.” They got married too quickly for that.
“Still. I know you,” she says with a teasing glint in her eye. “I should lock you down right now. Who are you bringing?”
I want to say, It’s still two months away and I’m not bringing anybody anyway, so stop asking.
No, strike that. What I really want to say is, The woman I’m bringing is Emma Swanson and you’ll more than like her, you’ll love her, because she’s the most remarkable woman I’ve ever encountered.
“I’ll figure it out later.”
“I think you should bring Sarah,” Lizzy says. “I like her.”
It doesn’t surprise me that that’s who Lizzy would suggest. I mean, sure. Of all the girls on the roster, if there was a ‘front runner’ it was probably Sarah. We make the most sense, on paper anyway. Her family has been in Swan Pointe for three generations and owns more prime California real estate than anyone I know personally. She knows what it’s like to grow up with certain expectations and understands how to handle being in the public eye.
If it weren’t for her tendency to fall into gossip, I’d tolerate her a lot better. She’s fine. Really fine. But any time I’ve thought of a long-term future with her, it’s felt more like a business deal than a matter of the heart.
I suspect she feels the same about me. She once said we’d make a ‘fine match’ with the same tone she’d comment on a nice paring of wine and cheese. I’d only nodded. I understood what she was saying.
This was all before Emma.
I couldn’t care less what Emma and I would look like on paper. What little time I had with her was magic. And I ruined the whole thing.
“I don’t know yet,” I say in answer to my sister’s suggestion.
Connor laughs. “And you won’t know any better by the time it gets here.”
I give him a look and he grins. We both know he’s right.
“I’m just saying, this is exactly the kind of thing you’re going to overthink. But if you pick someone tonight, the decision’s done and Lizzy isn’t stressing about it.”
“I say we make him call whoever it is tonight so he can’t get out of it,” Corrine says, joining in on their game.
I could put a stop to this at any time. Or I could get it fucking over with like Connor says, because he’s right. What difference does it make who I take?
“Fine.”
“Really?” Lizzy asks.
“Why not. One less thing to worry about.”
She does a little fist pump and silently mouths “score” to Whitney. Maybe she really has been worrying about it. Even though I only kept changing my mind for Connor’s because they got married down in fucking Mexico and that was a whole lot of time to commit to spend with the same woman.
I begin my usual pick-a-date routine. Aside from Sarah, there’s Kim. She’s very sweet and probably the right kind of person to have at a family function, but her personality is so bland that she’s best endured in small doses. Her father is William Morris, but she inherited none of his charisma. Lynda is fun because she’s energetic, both in her public persona and in bed, so several hours with her wouldn’t be so bad—though I’ve lost all interest in sleeping with her. But she’s high-maintenance and a bit of a snob.
Of course, the thing that counts against all of them is the same thing. They aren’t Emma.
“Where are you going?” Lizzy asks as I get off the couch.
“Getting a drink.”
I head toward my office, and hear her call after me in a playful voice, “Don’t think you’re getting out of this tonight.”
I take my time. In fact, I pour three fingers, drink half of it, then re-top off my glass before heading back out there. Corrine and Whitney have migrated to the kitchen island and started Corrine’s favorite game, gin.
Lizzy looks at me expectantly. “Well?”
I don’t know what answer to give her any better now than I did before. The only person I can think about is Emma. I don’t want to take anybody else.
But regardless of what I want, I may as well suck it up and make a decision.
I’m tempted to tell Connor to p
ick a number between one and three and settle things that way, but if I’m going to be an asshole about it, I’d rather keep that to myself.
Corrine lays down an eight of spades.
All right. The next card she lays down makes the decision. Diamonds for Lynda, Clubs for Kim, and Spades for Sarah. I’ll just go with whatever the cards decide. Connor’s right. It’s one fucking night. Who the hell cares?
Corrine slaps down another card.
The queen of hearts.
“Well, fuck,” I say aloud.
Chapter 21
Emma
It’s been two weeks since Rayce kissed me.
I put in the last week and a half of my contract, and he stayed away as promised. We did no more than communicate via text, and that was only to minimally coordinate our schedules. I’m back in banquet, though Alice thought sure the chef job would become permanent so she was only able to give me a few hours this week. Starting next week, I’ll be full-time again. I’ve been working inside his resort for the past two days, and haven’t seen him once.
I think it really is over. I think if he were going to try anything, he would have done it by now. But instead he’s staying away, just like I told him to.
It’s been two weeks, so it should be easier now. But it isn’t. I’d like to say that I’ve moved on and am feeling better about things, but I don’t. Each day that passes is more difficult than the last.
Alice hand delivered my check from the chef job, and I used that money to pay back Aaron and Pierce, over their many protests. I had just enough left to put down a deposit on a cheaply-furnished apartment. Next Friday, I’ll be able to move in with the few belongings I have left. The apartment’s on a bus line, which will be my new form of transportation until I have enough money to get something else.
I should be happy. I got out of what was an improper situation, I paid off my debt to my friends, and in less than a week I’ll have a place to live that’s my own.
In fact, I should be nothing but happy.
But I’m not. I’m torn up with wanting him.
Yesterday, I helped Pierce and Aaron load up a U-Haul with paintings and display panels and all the other stuff Pierce needed for an outdoor show he has in Northern California this weekend. Aaron’s going along to help. They’ll be gone until Sunday night.