Lost and Found: Book One of the Emi Lost & Found Series

by Lori L. Otto

  “Was it the poem?”

  Her smile is wide. “That was incredible, too, but no.”

  “When I said I’d never leave you? Because I won’t.”

  “That was great, too. No.” She smiles and leans over the bed and kisses me. “You’ll figure it out.”

  “Alright.” I move back up to the bed and sit next to her. She takes my hand and jostles it in hers nervously. “What is it?”

  “I’m just… what happens when this doesn’t work out?”

  “What happens when it does? That’s the question you should be asking yourself. Not this nonsense you’re talking about.”

  “Are you sure we’re ready to take this chance? I just wish we had waited to sleep together… just a little longer… just to make sure we’re on the same page.”

  “What’s holding you back?”

  “Nate, I can’t imagine my life without you in it. When you were busy avoiding me while you were with Kiersten, I just felt like something was missing in my life.”

  “Well, then it seems obvious… that we should give ‘us’ a shot.”

  “No, it’s not that simple,” she reminds me. “Because there’s no going back. We’ve crossed a line now. If it doesn’t work out, we couldn’t just pretend like it never happened. I couldn’t, at least. I mean, we could try to remain friends, but I just don’t think it’s possible once two people have gone that far… ”

  “Emi, we’re going to work out.”

  “You can’t know that.”

  “And you can’t know otherwise. You’re letting the fear of the unknown rule your life. You can’t let it take over like that.”

  “But Nate–”

  “No, listen to me. Are you willing to forego what could be the love of your life because you think it won’t work out? And really, on what basis? All the signs say that we will work out.

  “I’ve had a lifetime to think about all of this. And I’ve dated enough women to be able to say, with confidence, that I think we are soul mates. I thought it back in high school when we met. It’s been reaffirmed numerous times over the years.”

  “Soul mates, huh?”

  “That’s never crossed your mind?” I ask.

  “Maybe it has… back in college, I thought that once, but… Nate, this is all new to me,” she says. “Really, it was when you thought Samantha might be pregnant… that’s what made me start considering you as something more than a friend. I felt like I would lose a part of myself if it were true, if she had gotten pregnant. It just seemed so final… that you would belong to her, and this child would begin to rely on you and demand your time. And I was just strangely jealous about the whole thing.

  “Honestly,” she continues, her eyes averted, “I felt like that was supposed to be my baby. That was my place. In my heart, I always thought we would be parents together.”

  “I know,” I agree. “I’ll never forget the disappointment in your eyes that night. It nearly killed me,” I explain. “If she had been pregnant, I knew that I would have forgone any chance of being with you. It tore me apart.”

  “Since then,” she adds, “I’ve just been more and more envious of the women you date.”

  “And what is it that they have that you don’t have?”

  “They get a really great guy. They get the assurance that you’ll be there, ready to comfort them after a bad day. They get someone who will listen to them, and share stories, and give advice.”

  “You’ve always had that from me.”

  “But I want to be the only one.”

  “I’m ready to offer you that. This isn’t a casual thing for me, Emi. You mean so much to me.”

  She nods and smiles. “You mean a lot to me, too.” She weaves her fingers between mine. “Maybe we need to set some ground rules or something.”

  “I don’t want rules, Emi,” I tell her honestly. “I just want to be with you. I want to do what feels right, and this, being with you? It feels right. I promise, I’ll do anything you ask. I’ll take it slow, I’ll give you time, but I want this like I’ve never wanted anything else. Please, give me this opportunity to show you that I can be the right man for you. Let me prove that it’s not all about sex for me. I am a one-woman man, Emi, and you are that woman for me. I don’t want anyone else. There are genuine feelings underlying this, Em. Feelings I am sick and tired of denying. It is such an immense relief for this to be out in the open, finally. Let me feel. Let me show you how I feel.

  “Just try. For me.”

  She smiles and leans toward me. “Okay,” she says, her hand on my jaw, pulling me to her for a kiss.

  “Emi,” I begin with my lips still against hers. “Let’s slow this down a bit.”

  “Okay.”

  “Can I take you out on a date tonight?”

  “What’d you have in mind?”

  “Well, there’s an old drive-in theater that shows old eighties movies. We can binge on popcorn and Twizzlers. I heard they were showing The Outsiders tonight.”

  “That’s not really a make-out kind of movie.”

  “Wait, weren’t we taking this slow?”

  “I’m sorry,” she laughs as she explains her response. “I thought that was the whole point of drive-in theaters!”

  I smile at her and kiss her once more. “You in?”

  “I’m in. Wait, you are going to binge on junk food?”

  “I’d do anything for you. You ever going to get out of bed?”

  “I’m up,” she says as she throws the blankets back and climbs out of bed, my t-shirt hanging loosely over her shoulders. “Can I wear this?”

  “But it’s my favorite– I mean, of course,” I amend my first reaction. “Anything.”

  She bites her lip and nods as she makes her way to the other bedroom, leaving me to find something else to wear.

  ~ * ~

  I can’t believe how quickly the weekend went by. I already miss her, and I only dropped her off at the airport ten minutes ago. I have no idea how I’ll make it through the next month and a half without her while I’m in Vegas and she’s in New York.

  Hell, I have no idea how I’ll make it through this evening alone, with the memories of last night still fresh in my mind. I still feel like shit for what happened, but she didn’t say a word about it and I’m too much of a fucking pansy to bring it up myself.

  I wasn’t expecting us to be intimate last night after our casual movie date on Saturday. We had so much fun together pointing out the melodramatic acting and production quality of the movie. I hadn’t laughed that hard in ages. I expected more of the same for our last night together. Through our conversations over the weekend, I could tell she was still a little unsure of the speed of our relationship, and I wanted to prove to her that my interest in her was more than just some idle sexual infatuation with my best friend in between girlfriends. She told me that was her greatest fear, and unfortunately, the only way to prove her wrong was to just let me show her. In time, and hopefully it wouldn’t take too long, she would recognize my true affections.

  But for this weekend, after Friday night, I had decided I wouldn’t be the one to initiate anything more.

  Last night started innocently enough. We had just gotten back from having dinner together. We brought our desserts back to the suite with us, and I was putting fruit and cheesecake on plates for us. Emi hopped up on the kitchen counter, her pale legs kicking playfully, nudging my thighs. I grabbed her leg in my hand, feeling the soft skin of her thigh from under her skirt. I picked up a berry and dipped it in cream and fed it to her. She returned the favor, then pulled my body into hers, in between her thighs. My forehead leaned against hers as her elbows rested on my shoulders, her hands fingering my hair lightly. I looked at her intently, trying to read what was going on behind her beautiful eyes. I couldn’t see past her desire.

  Her hand fell slowly from my hair and down my arm. She dipped two fingers in some of the fresh cream and brought them to my lips. I felt my body reacting as I sucked the sweet foam from h
er fingers. After she pulled them out, she noted a small dab left behind on my lips, smiled and held my head still in her hands. She closed her eyes as her tongue drew so slowly across my lips, creating the single, most erotic sensation I have ever felt in my life.

  “Fuck, Emi,” I breathed as she licked her own lips after pulling back. I rubbed her earlobes lightly as we stared at one another, her quickened breaths matching mine.

  Before I could consciously think what I was doing, her shirt was completely unbuttoned. She giggled, knowing what she was doing to me, and then took my wandering hands into hers. “Touch me, Nate,” she spoke softly. “I don’t want you to forget how I feel.”

  “I could never,” I affirmed. “Never.” After tracing the lace hem of her bra, I tucked my thumb beneath it and stroked her nipple gently. She sighed as she pulled my lips to hers.

  “Five and a half weeks… ” she whispered.

  “Huh?” Our lips continued to move together.

  “That’s how long you’ll be gone?”

  “Yeah,” I said, moving my mouth from hers. I pushed the silk away to expose her breast, kissing it lightly, delicately. She moaned softly into my ear, then pushed me away and struggled to remove my shirt. I only broke away long enough to pull it over my head, swiftly picking up where I had left off.

  Her legs wrapped around me tighter, squeezing my body into hers.

  “Is it okay?” I asked her.

  “Mmmmm,” was her response.

  “I’ll take you right here,” I warned, excited at the prospect.

  “Couch,” she spoke up, and not a second lapsed before I swept her up and carried her to the nearby sofa, the needy kiss continuing. “Condom,” she added as I set her down.

  I thought nothing of it last night as I sped to get one out of the nightstand, but in hindsight I wonder if her concern with protection is because of the amount of women I’ve been with or just with pregnancy. Why did I ever waste my time on anyone else?

  When I returned to the living room, she was lying against the black couch, her milky white skin such a beautiful contrast. I slowed down, drank in the sight of her, and knelt before her, beginning to touch her again, this time with care and with reverence.

  Her needy hands made quick work of removing my clothes, and even as I knew I wanted to take it slow and savor our last night together, I wouldn’t deny her what she wanted, when she wanted it. She was impatient and hungry, and that was all I needed to give myself permission to continue on greedily, devouring every bit of her as soon as she revealed herself to me. And once I began on that track, there was no stopping myself.

  As I look back, I can consciously recognize the old habits that seeped back in. The fact that I had old habits was a little unnerving. This was new. Sex with Emi was different, I could tell. It was supposed to be, and it was… but in a way, it wasn’t. My internal monologue began to tell me what to do, as it always did. Touch here, kiss there. It was a routine I had practiced often, but there was nothing routine about Emi, about our attraction to one another.

  I knew this, and still, I continued.

  Instead of calling her by her name as we made love, I choked out the generic term “baby,” a name I’ve undoubtedly called every woman I’ve ever been with, from Misty Gainor to Eva… women who mean nothing to me now, who meant very little to me then. I should have called her by her own name. Emi. Or even Emily, an attempt to show her how much I do respect her.

  I pushed her to try something she never had before. She didn’t protest a bit, but I shouldn’t have done that. I should have let her guide me, but I didn’t. I took control, as I always do.

  The worst part was when I realized what I said to her our first night together, the phrase that she said was her favorite part, the words that she wouldn’t reveal to me. I realized what they were as soon as I couldn’t hold on any longer and blurted them out as I came.

  “I love you, baby.”

  Another line, a string of words that I had put together for all the wrong women before her, when all that time I should have been saving them for her. For Emi. For the only woman I’ve ever truly loved.

  Once I heard the words escape my lips, I recognized the feeling of lust that had pushed them out of my mouth. As if I could make them mean something more– make them mean what I really did feel for her– I said them again as I collapsed on top of her.

  The telling part for me was when she didn’t return the sentiment. That absence of those three words rang loudly in my ears.

  It was her turn to sleep comfortably all night, and my turn to think about what had happened– about my past, and about how that could seriously fuck up my future with Emi.

  She was quiet as we gathered her things this morning. She seemed sad, and she was noticeably melancholy as we discussed the length of our upcoming separation. I tried to persuade her to stay a couple more days until I left for Las Vegas, but her clients had deadlines and she needed to focus on her work to get it done. We talked briefly about her coming to visit me in a few weeks, but we didn’t make definite plans.

  I gave her the key to my loft before she left for the gate.

  “In case you need to get away from Teresa’s fiery love scenes… or, you know, maybe act out some on your own,” I told her with a light-hearted laugh.

  “Nate,” she chided, blushing, as her eyes diverted to the floor. I placed my fingers beneath her chin and lifted her gaze back to mine.

  “Hey,” I began, searching her eyes. She blinked quickly, looking up at me through her lashes. “I wouldn’t be sad if you were there when I got home.” I stroked her cheek lightly with my thumb.

  “We’ll see,” she smiled, biting her lip.

  Although the kiss goodbye was long and passionate, I’m not sure it will sustain me for six weeks until I head back to New York. I will definitely want to taste her lips long before that.

  And I will definitely need to know what’s going on in her mind well before that.

  Chapter 12

  Chapter Twelve

  I spend the next few days packing up my things and getting ready for Vegas. I will be driving there in the convertible and I’m looking forward to the short road trip. Driving in Los Angeles has proved to be just as nerve-wracking as it is in New York City, so the change in scenery on the open road is exciting to me. Albert will be flying in on Monday, leaving me to enjoy the weekend in Sin City by myself. I will probably do a fair amount of gambling. My dad taught me how to play Blackjack at a very young age, and I spent years practicing on my mother and our service staff as I grew up. I typically end up on the winning end. It’s probably luck, but I like to think of it as a learned skill.

  I call Emi as soon as I’m checked into my suite at the Bellagio.

  “How’s New York?” I ask her.

  “I think it misses you,” she says.

  “I miss it… and you.”

  “Me, too,” she says. “But hey, I have some news… ”

  “What?”

  “Chris just called, and he is definitely going to ask Anna to marry him!”

  “When?”

  “On New Year’s Eve… he’s going to throw a big party and surprise her. We’ll be invited, of course.”

  “That’s wonderful,” I tell her. “New Year’s Eve, huh? Wow, I can’t wait to have you in my arms at midnight. I’ve wished for that for so long.”

  “Hell, I’ll just be glad to have a date,” she jokes.

  “Well, I’m really happy for them. I’ll have to call him later.”

  “I’m sure he’d like that… I actually thought he might have called you already.”

  “Did you tell him about us?” I ask.

  “I mentioned that we had talked about, you know, possibly dating… ”

  “Possibly? I thought we were.”

  “Well, I don’t want to get the family’s hopes up,” she explains. “They’ve been predicting this for years. I’m not ready to tell them all they’re right.”

  “Yes, that makes sense, Em,”
I mock her.

  “Shut up,” she laughs. “I’m taking it slow… with them, too.”

  “Okay, Em, whatever you want.”

  “What are you doing tonight?” she asks.

  “Not sure. Maybe a little gambling. Definitely some sight seeing… people watching… ”

  “Do you need a little luck?”

  “It wouldn’t hurt, why?”

  “I thought you might… Check your email.”

  “Now?”

  “I think now would be a good time.” I pull out the laptop and find an outlet to plug it in. It takes a few minutes to boot up and connect to the wireless in the hotel. A flood of messages load into my inbox, and I quickly scan through them to find one from Emi. The subject is simply “Good Luck.”

  I save the attachment to my desktop and click it to open it up. When the file opens, I slowly inhale through my teeth, hold the breath in as I take in the gorgeous black and white photograph, and then exhale sharply. It is a side profile shot of Emi on my bed in the loft, her legs pulled into her chest, her head resting on her knee, her eyes looking into the camera, her lips slightly parted. She is holding a small four-leafed clover that is spot colored green. She is completely nude.

  She laughs. “That’s the response I was hoping for.”

  “It’s beautiful. You’re perfect,” I say to her.

  “Teresa helped me take it,” she explains. I remember that photography is one of her roommate’s other hobbies. Men and photography, sometimes both at the same time.

  “Lucky girl,” I spoke in a trance, unable to take my eyes off of the computer screen.

  “I just wanted you to remember what’s waiting for you back in New York.”

  “I was in no danger of forgetting that, but I’ll take reminders like this every day,” I say. “My god, baby, you’ll be the death of me.” I cringe as the lust invades my vocabulary again.

  She sighs into the phone.

  “Um… Emi, are we okay?”