Keeping the Pieces

by Brenda Lowder

  Derek straightened and tried to fist-bump her, but she didn’t raise her hand, and it turned into a light punch to her lower arm. “Ow.”

  “Sorry,” he said. “But thanks. This is going to be great. You’ll see. A whole weekend with them. Nights. Pools. Hot tubs.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

  “But it’s going to be so expensive!” She cringed at the whine in her voice. “You know wedding costs are non-refundable, right? They’re going to want deposits on all this stuff.”

  “On the cake, sure, but they’re going to break up before we get to any of the other stuff.”

  Emma just looked at him.

  “Okay, here, I’ll split the cake deposit with you today. Okay?”

  “Thank you,” Emma said. It was the least he could do. The fake wedding was half his, after all. Emma stepped away, but Derek put a hand on her arm.

  “Wait.” He glanced over her shoulder, back in the direction of their table. He pulled her against him and lowered his lips to hers. A thrill coursed through her core as Derek’s soft kiss molded her lips. When he pulled away, a slight smile lighting his eyes, Emma felt the blood rush to her cheeks.

  “What was that about?” she whispered, only now realizing she was still clutching his arm.

  “Our alibi.” He winked at her and strode back out to the table. She smoothed her hair and took a deep breath before following him.

  Cam and Honey stopped talking when Derek and Emma returned to the table. Emma guessed they were already regretting Honey’s impulsive invitation. Emma knew Cam, and he’d never go for it.

  “We’d love to join you both on the trip,” Derek told them. “Emma has just taken me aside to tell me that white-water rafting is a special talent of hers.”

  Honey and Cam both cast skeptical glances in Emma’s direction but didn’t comment on her rafting ability.

  “Sounds like fun,” Cam said, though to Emma’s well-trained-to-the-moods-of-Cam ear, he thought anything but.

  More cake samples arrived, but Emma didn’t find anything she liked more than that first chocolate one. And even though the samples were small, she was starting to feel full and more than a little sick from all the sugar and no protein.

  Glancing at her watch, she realized this had already taken longer than the lunch hour she hadn’t had time to take in the first place. When Trudy approached, carrying still another tray of samples, she said, “Trudy, these are fabulous, but I’ve decided which one I want.”

  “Well, come along, dear, and let’s get you ordered and scheduled.”

  Emma tore Derek from Honey’s side. Together they followed Trudy to the counter where Emma completed the necessary paperwork to order her favorite chocolate cake. Trudy logged their choice into a plastic binder. “That will be a hundred dollars for the deposit, please.”

  “Okay, can you put half on this card—” Emma pulled her Visa from her wallet. “And half on his?” She nudged Derek with her elbow and gestured for him to get his wallet out.

  A small cough sounded behind them. When Emma turned, Honey was looking at Derek with an expression of sympathy. She pivoted to Emma and, in a low voice, she said, “The bride’s family is supposed to pay for the cake. Why are you expecting Derek to split the deposit with you?” She furrowed her brow. It was clear that their monetary situation was foreign to her. Emma even thought that Honey was probably not trying to be offensive but rather trying to clue Emma in to the fact that the groom wasn’t supposed to pay for the cake.

  Cam cleared his throat and leaned into their conversation. “I think it’s very modern. Emma shouldn’t have to pay for everything herself. He should contribute.” Cam nodded his head toward Derek.

  Derek slapped his credit card on the counter, a muscle twitching near his jaw. “I do contribute,” he said. “I take good care of the people around me.” He glanced over his shoulder. “You should do the same.”

  Emma could see the self-control it took for Cam not to punch Derek. He leaned forward, and his arm muscles tightened as he fisted his hands at his sides. He glanced at Emma and, noticing her watching him, visibly relaxed with an effort.

  “I don’t know what you see in him.” Cam’s voice was a harsh whisper near her ear. He turned on his heel and went out the jangling door without another word.

  Honey glanced at the closing door with a look of alarm. Cam was already gone from view. She bit her lip and glanced from Derek to Emma. “What kind of cake did he want?”

  Emma smiled. She just might be winning after all.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  D erek was having what he’d call a good day at work.

  “That’s it. You’ve got it. Now just ease it up.”

  Derek smiled at the grimace on Emma’s face as she lifted the weight bar. He’d gotten her to sign up for a free trial day at Fitness Lifeline which included a complimentary introductory personal training session. She’d wanted to plan for the cabin weekend, and he thought if they were going to do more plotting they could at least do it at the gym where he’d be paid to be there. Emma was game and now that he was seeing what she could do, he wanted to recommend she begin a strength training program. There were no weights on the bars she struggled to lift.

  “Am I done?” Emma asked after ten reps. Derek stifled a laugh. “Two more sets of ten.” He counted them off. Her face was shiny with sweat when she laid the weight bar to rest, hands shaking.

  “Whew!” She wiped her forehead. “And you do this every day?”

  Derek laughed. “I work different muscle groups and switch up weights with cardio, but yeah. I’m in here working out every day.”

  Her eyes widened. “Amazing.” She took a long drink from her water bottle. “So are we going to discuss the impending weekend of doom?”

  He cocked his head at her. “Doom? I thought you wanted increased access. I thought you were all about the access.” He raised his eyebrows and smirked suggestively.

  “I did. I do. But I want it alone with Cam, not with his girlfriend breathing down my neck.”

  Derek glanced around at the two men working out next to them. He steered Emma to an ab machine a few feet away and lowered his voice. “With any luck, she’ll be breathing down my neck and not yours, remember?”

  “Gotcha.” She reached out a hand and spun the round vinyl-covered cushion around the metal handle. “What do I do on this one?”

  “Here, let me show you.” He moved around her and got on the machine, slowly demonstrating the correct form for an ab crunch. After a couple of reps, she said she understood, and they traded places.

  Emma started grunting after only three reps. “So what’s the plan? What’s the game? How do we approach this?”

  He tilted his head. “You’re asking me? I thought evil planning was your department.”

  She blinked and lifted her chin, giving him one of those arch looks of hers. “It’s not evil. And yes, it’s my plan. But I’m also interested in your opinions.”

  He crossed his arms and leaned on the machine behind him, smiling. “Are you now?”

  She grunted between crunches. “Of course.”

  “Well, thank you then.”

  She grunted again. “How many more of these?”

  “Fifteen. Now focus.”

  “You focus.” She gasped for air.

  He counted her down. She finished her reps but had lost the will to speak. He handed her the water bottle and waited while she drank.

  When she’d caught her breath, he said, “I think we just go with the flow. We pretend to be the loving couple we are and take our cues from them.”

  Emma rolled her eyes. “Ridiculous.”

  “What?”

  “So the whole plan for Friday night is to have no plan?”

  Derek shook his head. “Why did you even ask me?”

  She pushed her perspiration-soaked hair out of her eyes. “I thought you might have some good ideas.”

  There was a pause during which she stared at him, waiting.

  He
laughed. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

  She smiled. “It’s okay. Oh, how’s your brother Ryder doing—with his girlfriend situation?”

  Derek winced and leaned his arm against the side of the machine. “Fine. I mean delusional. But fine. I talked to him last night and he was shopping for a crib.”

  “That’s good, I guess.” Emma frowned.

  “Yeah. Till it’s not.” He glanced around the gym then flicked her shoulder. “You going to sit there all day?”

  “I was gathering my strength to get up.”

  “I think it’s gathered.”

  “Okay.” She struggled to get out of the machine.

  “Here.” He extended a hand and helped her to stand.

  “Ow!” She immediately buckled over at the waist, howling. “Derek, something’s wrong. Ow!”

  He crouched down beside her. “Are your stomach muscles cramping up?”

  “Yes! Arghh!” Her howl of pain became a scream.

  “It’s okay. It’s okay. Here, drink some more water.” He handed her the bottle again. “Breathe.”

  She breathed, but she only stopped yelling to swallow water. He ignored the curious looks they were getting. It would only be newbies looking, anyway. This happened often enough.

  “Derek!” Emma’s voice was panicked. She grabbed the front of his shirt and crumpled it in her fist. “It’s not getting any better.”

  He took her hand from his shirt and held it. “Lie on the floor.”

  She balked. “What?”

  “Lie on the floor. It will help your muscles relax. You can make a lot of things better by lying on the floor.”

  She lay on the floor as directed.

  “Is that better?” He stood over her, looking down.

  “No,” she whimpered, clutching her abdomen. “Maybe.” She blew out a breath then rolled to her side. She immediately started howling again.

  “Don’t try to move yet. Give it a minute. Maybe five. You were working muscles you haven’t used in a long time. They’re protesting.”

  “They’re not just protesting—they’ve gone on strike,” she got out through gritted teeth. “I’ve never used these muscles! And I will never, ever use them again. I promise.”

  “Oh, don’t say that. You’ll get past it. Honey can knock out twice the reps at three times the weight you just crunched.”

  “Of course she can.” Emma sat straight up and then screamed. Francine, an older woman who was doing a lat press across from them, startled and dropped the bar on her machine. The weights clanked down on the stack.

  Derek put his hand on her shoulder. “Lie back down. It’s okay. Give your body the time it needs.”

  Emma obeyed and whimpered some more. After a minute, she said, “No more comparisons to Honey.”

  He nodded. “Lesson learned. You’ll scream in my gym. My lips are sealed.”

  “Except for Honey.”

  “What?”

  “Your lips aren’t sealed for Honey. They’re open for her.”

  “Yes, except for Honey.” He let his thoughts linger on the idea of kissing Honey again.

  “Okay, you do that.” Emma’s voice floated up from the floor.

  “Do what?”

  “That’s the plan for the cabin weekend. You kiss Honey, okay? Make that happen.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay.” Emma nodded without getting up, her hair rubbing against the hardwood floor of the main workout room. “I’ll handle the rest.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Emma had a ton to do before she could take off work and enjoy three days of white-water rafting with a hot trainer, her true love, and her true love’s fiancée. She couldn’t believe she was actually going through with this. Was she kidding herself that this was going to break them up?

  No. There was real hope here. Cam had been paying so much attention to her. He barely even looked at Honey when Emma was around now. There was definitely trouble in not-quite paradise, and Emma would be there for him when it all fell apart.

  Sure, even Emma could see why someone would fall in love with Honey. Emma felt half in love with her herself. Honey was beautiful, smart, rich.

  But that was all a bit obvious, wasn’t it? What Emma and Cam had was deeper, more real. They were partners. They depended on each other with an intuitiveness that transcended the physical. They were psychically linked, soul to soul. Fated to be together, she told herself, if he weren’t distracted by Honey.

  Men never looked at love realistically, Emma decided. When it came down to evaluating a relationship, it was the woman who was the cold-blooded calculating one, not the man. Women looked at a man’s complete package—not just his package. A woman looked at his earning potential, the way he treated her, the way he treated children, small animals, and his mother, the way he took care of the people around him, the way he made her feel—confident and secure. If he happened to have wide shoulders, enviable cheekbones and was tall enough to climb like a tree, so much the better.

  But men fell in love with physical beauty, end of story. They were maddeningly simple. And if you weren’t his physical type, you didn’t have a prayer with the man of your dreams. Emma hadn’t always felt this way, but looking at the situation in front of her, it certainly felt true.

  Take herself, for example. Cam hadn’t paid any attention to her until Derek had encouraged her to get this makeover that had suddenly moved her up from a wallflower six to a smoking hot nine and a half (if Derek could be believed). And he’d only withheld the last half point because he preferred blondes, he’d told her.

  Did she really have a chance with Cam at the cabin?

  Taking a vacation right now seemed crazy. She was overwhelmed with work, both at the office and at home. She and Cam hurried to complete their assignments so they could both be free on Friday. They didn’t tell anyone they were going away together—that would have been too much to explain. Besides, it was nobody’s business. Even though Suellen asked so many questions Emma was sure she knew something was up. As much as Emma was dying to tell, it was smarter not to. Emma said she needed to help her father. And it was true he needed help. Professional help. She had no idea what to do for him. Or where to find him. He hadn’t checked in with her in days and had stopped answering his phone. Had he found her mother? Or was he lying by the side of the road somewhere, Baxter standing over his dead body?

  As worried as she was, she didn’t know what she could do to help. She doubted it would do any good to go after them herself. At some point, you had to trust your parents to grow up and make their own decisions. Solve their own problems. And Emma didn’t have time to solve her parents’ problems. She had her own. After a full day at work, she had to run around shopping—an errand she detested—looking for new clothes to take on this ridiculous weekend getaway.

  Maybe some new outfits would make her feel more prepared for the trip. Like suiting up in armor. But her armor would be clothing that would continue to force Cam into seeing her in a new light. Nothing in her closet of business casual apparel would do. For the millionth time she regretted her mother’s disappearance. Her mom would have been perfect for this job. Instead, she’d have to try to recall the specific criticism her mother had leveled at her over the years. She also tried to picture what Derek would talk her into buying.

  She needed a new swimsuit, some new jeans and casual clothes, and something rugged yet sexy to wear while rafting. And maybe something slinky and suggestive for the evening. And something besides an over-sized T-shirt to wear to bed.

  It was impossible. She was hopeless at clothes. What would be attractive and alluring but not cross the line into slutty?

  She’d put off asking Derek. She didn’t want to put too many demands on him. It wasn’t like he was really her boyfriend. Or even technically her friend. Plus, she wasn’t thrilled with the self-satisfied smile she imagined he’d make when he gave his opinion on women’s intimate wear.

  Trusting Suellen, her closest work friend, wo
uld be a mistake. She was too close to the situation. And even though Suellen dressed well, she was the last person Emma would want to consult. She’d probably recommend something see-through or slit to the waist. She was always arguing that Emma should put her goods on display if she wanted to awaken Cam’s interest.

  Emma had always gotten along better with men, anyway. She and her father were very close. And she’d always been close friends with Cam…while hoping for more. There hadn’t really been room in her life for a best girl friend. For the first time ever, she felt sorry for herself about that. Maybe in some ways she was intimidated by other women, expecting them to be critical of her like her mother was.

  After spending an hour and a half at the mall and still having bought nothing to show for it, she broke down and called Derek. He laughed when she explained what her problem was, and she immediately regretted asking him.

  “If you’re going to laugh at me, I don’t need your help after all.”

  “Don’t get snooty,” he told her. “Be there in five minutes. You’ll have Cam begging.”

  Comforted by the sudden fantasy of Cam on his knees begging her for sexual favors, Emma thanked him and ended the call. She walked down to the fountain and threw pennies in, making wishes. When she was out of pennies, she walked around, stopping to look in display windows, but not daring to buy anything before Derek got there.

  When she tired of walking, she sat down in the food court to wait. The delicious smells of French fries and pizza made her tummy rumble. She checked the time on her phone. Way past dinner time and she hadn’t eaten lunch either. Good time to find yourself in a food court. She was trying to decide whether she wanted a piece of pizza from Sbarro or fried chicken in a sweet sauce from either Asian Chao or Bourbon Street Café when she thought she saw a familiar Justin Bieber look-alike saunter by.

  “Draxton?” she called out, stunned.

  He stopped and turned around. His eyes got huge when he saw her, and he took off running fast.

  But Emma was ready. She’d chased after him a ton back when she’d babysat him. She knew his first instinct would be to run. She ran right after him, grateful for her sensible shoes. And for his too-tight pants that had him zigzagging and side-stepping and slowing him down.