by Jodi Perry
When she turns and walks towards the kitchen, I start to follow, but I’m instantly stopped in my tracks. The red dress she’s wearing is backless. Completely backless. The base stops just above the curve of her perfect round arse. I inwardly groan as I shove my hands in my pockets. Everything in me wants to reach out and touch her—if I can get through the night without doing exactly that, it will be a damn miracle.
We fall into easy conversation on the way to the restaurant, but my mind is consumed by that dress. If she wore it to drive me crazy, she succeeded.
As we walk from the car I instinctively move to place my hand on the small of her back, but I quickly rethink that move; touching her silky soft skin will do me no favours.
I already feel utterly frustrated … I have been aching for her for months.
‘Wow, this place is beautiful,’ she says as soon as we step inside The Sea Shanty. ‘Oh, look at that row of round windows. They look like they’re off a ship.’
‘They actually are.’
‘What a neat idea … such a great touch.’ Her comment makes me smile.
Trish, the owner, walks into the reception area a minute later.
‘Braxton, it’s so good to see you again.’ She pulls me into a hug, before moving her attention to Jemma. She’s smiling, but I can also see a hint of sadness in her expression; she knows about Jemma’s accident, about what she has lost. ‘Hi, I’m Trish.’
‘Hi. It’s lovely to meet you,’ Jemma says, extending her hand, but Trish ignores it, opting to pull her into an embrace instead. I’m pleased to see Jemma smiling when Trish lets her go. ‘You have a lovely place here.’
‘We have you and your amazing eye for detail to thank for that.’
Jemma’s eyes, clearly confused, briefly dart towards me. I feel for her; I can only imagine how it must feel to be thrust into a world you no longer remember. I’ve learned over the past few months to ease into things gently with Jemma, otherwise she becomes overwhelmed. ‘Matthew, get your sexy butt out here,’ Trish calls out over her shoulder, ‘Braxton and Jemma are here.’
Her comment makes me laugh, and I notice that even Jemma smiles. I love these two, and Jemma did too.
‘Where are my two favourite people?’ he bellows from somewhere in the back of the restaurant.
His face lights up as soon as he steps into the reception area. He vigorously shakes my hand before pulling Jemma into a crushing hug. When he finally lets her go, he cups her face in his hands.
‘How have you been, sweet girl? We heard about what happened, and the missus and I were really shaken by the news.’
Jemma smiles awkwardly and takes a step back. I see Trish elbow him in the side and I have to suppress my laugh. ‘I’m doing okay,’ she says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. That’s when I notice she’s not only wearing her memory bracelet on her wrist, but also the shell earrings I gave her when we were kids.
‘Come on, Matthew,’ says Trish, ‘leave them be. I have your table ready,’ she finishes, turning to me.
‘Only the best table in the house for our favourite customers,’ Matt says.
They lead us out to their private dining area on the balcony, overlooking a clear, uninterrupted view of the ocean. She wasn’t kidding about the best seats in the house.
I had booked this same table for our nineteen-day anniversary, the day of Jemma’s accident. It has taken us longer than I planned to make it here, but finally the night has come.
I pull Jemma’s chair out for her.
‘Always such a gentleman,’ Trish says, elbowing Matt in the ribs. ‘You could learn a thing or two from him, Matthew Sutherland.’
‘Do we know these people well?’ Jemma asks, when we’re finally alone.
‘We used to dine here often.’
‘Oh. Okay. I really like them.’
‘Me too. They’re good people.’
I watch her as her eyes move around the space. The old Jem would do that everywhere we went. ‘The view from here is spectacular.’
‘It’s breathtaking,’ I reply, looking straight at her.
‘I love the way this place is decorated.’
‘Would you be surprised if I told you that you decorated it?’
Her eyes widen. ‘No way. Really?’
‘Uh huh.’
She looks around in wonderment. ‘I’m impressed that I did this. It has a very nautical feel to it. The perfect décor for a seafood restaurant.’
‘That’s the look you were going for.’ She had decorated it in a similar colour scheme to our own place: whites, blues, and a hint of yellow here and there. She draped white fishing nets from the ceiling and handpicked a variety of nautical memorabilia.
‘You have an amazing talent for interior design.’
She goes quiet and I notice her gaze moves down to her lap, so I reach for her hand across the table.
‘I secretly knew you’d been dying to get your hands on this place when Trish and Matt took over. You hated how mismatched the old décor was.’
She giggles before squeezing my hand. ‘Thank you.’
‘For what?’
‘For everything. I’m not sure where I’d be right now if it wasn’t for you. You keep me sane.’
I let go of her hand and sit back in my chair when the waitress approaches. She places a Corona with a wedge of lime in front of me, and to Jemma she presents a tall glass that contains ice and a dark orange liquid. It’s garnished with a piece of lemon and one of those tiny umbrellas. We both thank her before she turns and leaves.
‘Did we order these?’ Jemma asks.
‘No. We’re here a lot and Trish knows what we like, so they never bother taking our order.’
She picks up her glass and takes a sip of her drink. ‘Yum. What is this?’
‘Vodka, lemon, lime and bitters.’
‘It has alcohol in it?’
‘It does.’
‘It tastes better than that awful wine Rachel had me drinking the other night.’
‘Wine doesn’t really agree with you,’ I chuckle. I don’t bother elaborating, because it will only embarrass her. I’ll save that story for another time.
The entrees come out, followed by the mains a while later. ‘Wow, what is that?’ Jem whispers to me across the table when the waitress leaves.
‘Lobster mornay. It’s your favourite dish.’
Her head lowers as she studies the shell of the lobster.
‘You just eat the lobster meat and sauce inside it,’ I say as I watch her.
A playful smile tugs at her lips as her eyes move back to mine. ‘Did you seriously think I was going to try to eat the shell?’
Shrugging my shoulders, I smile as I pick up my beer and take a swig.
Music is playing softly in the background as we talk about everything and nothing, just like we always did. Though so much of our time was spent together, there was always so much to say.
‘I feel like I need to go for a run now to burn off some of that food,’ she says contentedly.
Running wasn’t the way we had burned off food before the accident, but I already know that’s not how this night will end. Instead, I ask her to dance. Not because I enjoy dancing, but there is nothing I love more than to hold Jemma in my arms.
Her face illuminates with a smile. ‘Okay.’
Removing the napkin from my lap, I stand and move around to her side of the table to pull out her chair. I can’t take my eyes off her back as I follow her onto the dance floor. It’s driving me crazy. This dress is almost my undoing; I’ve always loved her long, lean back. There’s not a single part of her that I don’t love. Her eyes, her lips, her perfect little nose, her pretty face, her long legs, her dainty hands, her soft skin … I could go on forever. I remember all too well the feeling of her beneath the weight of my fingertips, and the sensation of our naked bodies meshed together, connected as one.
I yearn for that again. Every damn inch.
She comes to a stop in the middle of the dance floor, and turns to
face me. When I see a nervous smile tug at her lips I don’t hesitate to pull her into my arms. Her breath hitches and I have to suppress the groan that bubbles in the back of my throat as my hands slide around her waist, coming to rest on her bare back.
Her arms encircle my neck, and her body instantly melts into mine. I close my eyes and savour this moment. She feels like home when she’s in my arms.
She starts to sway to the music, and my body can’t help but react to her. I find myself willing my erection to stay down, but I should know by now that I have no control over this. When it comes to her I never have. I clench my eyes tighter but it’s no use, there’s no sign of retreat. Please don’t let her notice.
My eyes spring open when I hear her gasp a few seconds later. Shit, she noticed.
‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper into her hair. ‘It’s been so long since I’ve held you like this.’
She tilts her head back as her eyes lock with mine. The sadness I see on her face tugs at my heart. Asking her to dance was a mistake; she’s not ready. I’ve been selfish, but only because I’m desperate.
My arms drop down by my side, but as I start to take a step back, she stops me. ‘Don’t. It’s okay.’ I feel my body relax as I reach for her again. ‘Oh Braxton,’ she says a moment later, burying her face in my chest. When I hear her muffled giggle, I draw my face back.
‘Are you laughing at me?’
‘No.’ But then she loses it. I feel her body convulsing against mine as she laughs. When she snorts, I find myself laughing along with her. ‘Talk about an awkward first date,’ she says, removing one of her arms from around my neck, so she can wipe the tears from her eyes.
‘Awkward doesn’t quite cover it,’ I mumble.
This moment is like deja vu, because the same thing happened to us the first time we danced together, back in high school. I consider throwing in the boy scout torch excuse that I used back then, but she won’t get it. I still cringe when I think about that night, but it’s also the moment that propelled our relationship out of the friend zone for good.
‘Do you want to sit down?’ I ask.
‘Not yet. Besides, I don’t think it would be wise if we were to part right now.’
I can still hear the amusement in her voice. The old Jem would have reacted the same way, but things are different now, and I’m constantly scared I’m going to do something that will drive her further away.
‘True. Someone could lose an eye,’ I reply.
She throws back her head and laughs.
I tighten my grip, and let out a contented sigh. ‘Thanks for coming here with me tonight, Jem. You have no idea how much it means to me.’
She doesn’t reply, but I’m okay with that. Instead she rests the side of her face against my erratically beating heart.
The song finishes, but she holds tight. ‘One more song.’ She’ll get no complaints from me. ‘I’m enjoying dancing with you.’
‘Me too, Jem.’
We used to dance like this at home. If there was music playing, I would pull her into my arms, or vice-versa.
Our song comes on next, and it makes me wonder if Trish is behind this, or if it’s fate. Either way, I take it as a sign. ‘The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face’ is the song that came on the radio the first time we danced, and the song we danced to on our wedding day.
It is the perfect song for us. It describes everything I’ve felt from the first time I laid eyes on her, our first kiss, the first time we made love, and everything in between.
Tonight I’m filled with mixed emotions, and listening to the lyrics is bittersweet. My love for her since the accident hasn’t diminished one bit, but things are very different between us now.
When the last notes of the song play, she lifts her head off my chest and looks up at me, and I’m surprised to see tears falling down her beautiful face.
‘Jem, what’s wrong?’
She releases a nervous laugh before she speaks. ‘That song … it was so beautiful. Those words really touched my heart.’
I smile as I run the pad of my thumb across her cheek. I have no idea why I don’t tell her that this is our song, but I don’t.
Everything in me wants to kiss her beautiful mouth as she stares up at me with those haunting brown eyes of hers, but instead I lean forward and simply place my lips on her forehead. It is enough.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Jemma
I find myself smiling as I stare out into the night on our drive home. I feel so happy, and I’m sad that it’s coming to an end. It was a perfect first date.
When we pull into Christine’s driveway I already know that Braxton will open my door for me by the time I’ve undone my seatbelt. I love how he always takes care of me.
Butterflies flutter in my stomach as he holds out his hand to me. ‘I had such a nice time,’ I say as he walks me to the door.
‘Me too.’ He slides his hands into the pockets of his trousers as we stop at the base of the stairs. ‘Hopefully we can do it again sometime.’
‘I’d like that.’
Things feel a little awkward as we stand and silently look at each other. I’d love to know what’s going through his head right now. I know exactly what’s going through mine: I want him to kiss me. I felt the same way when he stared down at me after our last dance at the restaurant. I don’t entirely understand all these feelings I have when I’m around him … all I know is that he makes me feel.
I reach up to nervously tuck my hair behind my ears. His eyes follow my every move, before focusing on my memory bracelet.
‘I love that you wore that tonight,’ he says, reaching out to touch it.
‘I love it.’ I look down at my wrist as my fingers move over the charms. They touch the tiny bike, then the shell, before settling on the tree. ‘This is for the day you fell out of the tree trying to rescue my kite.’ My eyes dart up to him, and though he’s smiling I see sadness in his eyes, which in turn makes tears cloud mine. ‘I used Stephen’s ladder to climb the tree in the backyard. I wanted to see the message you’d carved into the tree.’
‘You did? But it was so high up.’
‘Heights don’t bother me.’
‘Was it still there?’
‘Yes. BS loves JR, inside a heart.’
A lone tear escapes, cascading down my cheek. Braxton’s hand quickly moves to the side of my face, and his thumb gently swipes across my cheek, catching it.
‘Can I kiss you, Jem?’
‘Yes,’ I reply without hesitation. In this moment there’s nothing I want more.
My heart thumps furiously in my chest as he takes a step towards me, closing the gap between us. His fingers slide into my hair as he gently tilts my head back. His face inches forward, and the moment his lips meet mine the world around me stops. My hands fist in his shirt as my body instinctively melts into his.
He opens his mouth slightly and deepens the kiss, and I have no control over the soft moan that falls from my lips. His kiss awakens my entire body, making me feel so … alive.
I immediately feel the loss when he draws back. ‘Wow,’ I breathe. He rests his forehead against mine, and although I can’t see his mouth, I know he’s smiling.
Goosebumps pebble my skin as his thumb tenderly caresses my cheek. ‘Goodnight, Jem.’
‘Goodnight.’
When I close the front door behind me, I lean back into it and sigh. I feel my lips curve into a smile as my fingertips brush across them. Things are definitely changing between us, and surprisingly, that doesn’t scare me in the slightest … it excites me.
I can’t wait to see him in the morning.
My eyes spring open and then immediately close again as I’m almost blinded by the light flooding into my bedroom. Sitting up, I rub my eyes—and my heart sinks when I see it’s 9.34am. I missed my run, but more importantly I missed breakfast with Braxton.
Throwing back the covers, I leap out of bed. I jump when I fling my bedroom door open and find Christine standing a few feet away.<
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‘God,’ I say, clutching my chest. ‘I wasn’t expecting to see you standing there.’
‘Sorry, sweetheart. I was just coming up to check on you.’
‘I slept in … I missed my run.’
My disappointment is quickly replaced with happiness when I see a letter in her hand. ‘It appears you two had a great time last night. Braxton couldn’t stop smiling when he dropped this off. His face looked a lot like yours does.’
‘Thanks,’ I say, taking it from her. ‘We had an amazing time.’
‘That makes me so happy.’ She reaches for my hand, giving it a squeeze. ‘You two were made for each other.’
I’m starting to believe that.
From what I’ve learned of my past, I think my parents were made for each other as well. ‘Do you think you’ll ever be able to forgive Dad for everything that happened?’
My question surprises her. She’s silent for a brief time before finally answering with a very firm, ‘No.’ I sigh when she turns and heads towards the staircase. I refuse to believe that.
Closing my bedroom door, I look down at the letter in my hand and quickly find myself smiling again. I’m eager to find out about another adventure from my life.
LETTER ELEVEN …
Dearest Jemma,
The tenth of November 2006. It was a Friday, and two weeks before my high-school formal. The following year I would head off to university. You still had one more year of high school, and as excited as I was to embark on this new journey in my life, there was one major hurdle standing in my way: I was going to be an hour-and-a-half’s drive from you. That thought made me sick to the stomach.
‘I’ve got a fitting tomorrow morning for my tux for the formal, do you want to come with me?’ I asked as we drove home from school in your red rocket. That’s what you had affectionately named your car.
‘Hell, yes. I need to come to make sure you actually get one.’
You were the one who talked me into going in the first place. You said one day I’d regret it if I didn’t, but I doubted that.
Our school had a stupid rule that if you wanted to take a date, it could only be someone from your year, which meant I couldn’t take you.