by C. R. Ellis
No pressure, I mouthed to Dean from across the table. He buried a smile and remained silent. My mom looked back and forth between us after the exchange, aware a nonverbal joke had just been exchanged at her expense.
“Mary, he’s thirty, not eighty,” came my dad’s exasperated voice. He was a man of few words, but the words he did drop were always direct.
“Well excuse me for wanting grandchildren while I’m young enough to keep up with them! And for wanting my children to have lasting relationships.” She stood and started clearing dishes, a telltale sign she wasn’t happy with the way we’d all ganged up on her.
“Mom, I told you I’d let you borrow Triton any time you want to see your granddog.” Jasmine and Dean both stared at me with large, shocked eyes. I could’ve slapped myself for drawing her attention to me.
“And you,” she started, pulling the wine out of my reach. “No more wine. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how cagey you’ve been in answering questions about your relationship status. Why I’m the only one concerned about the state of your relationships, I’ll never understand,” she muttered before stalking off toward the kitchen.
We all sat in a hushed silence, and I ran my fingers over the soft cotton of the red and black chevron table cloth.
“That went well, I think,” my dad stated matter-of-factly.
Jasmine, Dean, and I just stared at him for a beat before breaking into laughter.
Jasmine said she needed to go meet a client for a last minute meeting, so we didn’t stick around for dessert. I said goodbye to my parents and made Dean promise we’d talk more about this potential new job when I caught up with him in New York.
Later, I crawled into bed ready for sleep, but of course, my brain chose 11:17 p.m. to start replaying today’s events. The roses. The conversation with Jas. Seeing Dean and finding out he was probably moving home. My brain bounced back and forth between topics before I finally huffed out an exasperated breath because it kept coming back to Emmett.
“You will not think about him anymore,” I vowed out loud.
Instead, I chose to think about Dean moving back and how great it would be to finally have my big brother home.
A ding from my cell phone in the other room alerted me to its location in my purse, so I hauled myself out of bed to retrieve it. My apartment was on the small side, so it only took me a few seconds to fumble around in the dark before I found my purse resting on its hook in the entryway. I collapsed back onto my bed, thinking sleep was finally on the horizon.
Plugging in my phone to its charger and seeing a single text shattered that illusion.
UNKNOWN:I can’t, Tiny. Please don’t hate me.
My eyes flew open, and I almost hurled my phone across the room. I reread the words, making sure I wasn’t imaging things. Nope, they were there and quickly burrowing a home in my brain and creating a reverse black hole, recalling each memory shared with Emmett. This time I did burst into tears, letting myself finally succumb to the reality I’d done something monumentally stupid like holding out hope I could trust Emmett after all.
Chapter 11
Jade
I’d never been so glad to have a full schedule. There was no time to sit and think about anything non-work related. Otherwise, my stupid brain would’ve had time to fantasize about what I’d say to Emmett if I ever saw him again. I’d tell him exactly where he could take his roses and text message and shove them. Or how I actually didn’t find his ocean eyes so alluring and magnetic, and I’d tell him this with a straight face, completely unaffected by his presence.
Nicole’s fiancé, Trey, was expanding his offices into several cities nationwide, so he traveled a lot and had to cancel on coming to the Big Apple last minute. I didn’t tell her this, but I wasn’t surprised; in the few months I’d been working with Nicole, he had canceled every time he was supposed to come. She wasn’t happy with his abrupt cancellation, but once we popped the champagne after finding the dress, she was on her way back to bridal bliss.
Dress in hand, we stepped into bustling streets and waited for the limo. The scent of fresh pizza wafted my way from a nearby restaurant, reminding me Dean and I were meeting for dinner at his favorite hole-in-the-wall pizza place a few blocks from his apartment.
“Ohmygosh,” Lindsay, Nicole’s sister, squealed, looking down at her phone. “Trent’s club is having a masquerade party tonight; we have to go! To celebrate finding the dress.”
With pleas from her sister and friend, Nicole agreed. “Please tell me you can come,” Nicole begged, looking at me with hopeful eyes. “Don’t leave me alone with these two.”
I laughed. I’d planned on hanging out with Dean, and he mentioned something about catching a movie with Natasha after dinner, but a masquerade did sound like the perfect way to keep my thoughts free of a certain Bostonian.
My phone rang and interrupted my response. “It’s my brother, let me check in with him.” Nicole nodded and I answered. “What’s up, D? Don’t tell me you’re bailing.”
He sighed. “Not completely. But something’s come up with one of my cases, and I have to get back to work after dinner. Probably for a while. I’m sorry, J. You can have free reign of my TV and DVR. And I promise we can sit for longer than thirty minutes before you leave. I’ll make you breakfast when I get home. Deal?”
“Okay, fine, but you’re making chocolate chip pancakes.”
“Deal. Gotta go, Natasha’s calling. Probably to bitch at me for canceling,” he muttered. I was fairly certain he didn’t intend for me to hear that last part, but it made me curious about their relationship. Just how serious were they? He’d been with her for six months, but I’d never heard him mention the L-word, or even any kind of future with her.
I hung up and turned back to the group. “I’m meeting Dean for dinner, but I’m free after we eat.”
Nicole squealed in excitement and squeezed my hands. “I’m so glad you’re coming!” Her eyes quickly scanned over me. “Actually, I saw the perfect dress for you to wear tonight in a store window near the hotel. I’m buying it for you, and I’m not taking no for an answer!”
“Nicole…” I called after her, shaking my head.
Her friend, Darcy, turned to me and looped her arm through mine. “Might as well just accept it, Jade. Once Nicole sets her mind to something there’s no stopping her.”
Nicole was right—the dress was absolutely perfect for me. I met the girls after dinner, and as soon as I slipped on the light pink, form-fitting dress, I was hit with a wave of excitement. The dress was backless, so I had to go without a bra. Luckily, there was one one built in to keep the girls in place. I spun around, checking myself out from all angles. The front dipped down in a V, revealing more cleavage than I was used to, but I was suddenly excited for a night out to replace the memory of my last night out. I felt sexy and confident the night I met Emmett, but tonight I would let myself become someone else. Someone who wasn’t hung up on a man who clearly was over me. Though, to be ‘over’ somebody implies there was ever anything between us.
Admittedly, I couldn’t quite settle that fact in my brain. The way he held me, the words he spoke to me, the sincerity swimming in the depths of his eyes were all proof I meant something to him. But there was no denying the meaning of his text message. Whatever the reason, he wasn’t willing to see things through with me.
Which meant I needed to get over Emmett Sinclair. Starting tonight.
“Here,” Lindsay offered, holding out several masks for Nicole, Darcy, and me. I chose a gold, delicately detailed one to compliment my dress’s pink hue.
Lindsay pulled out her phone and typed out a text to Trent before we got to the bouncer, whose massive frame and bald head immediately reminded me of Harrison. I shook the image of Emmett’s own personal Hulk from my mind and feigned sudden interest in the hem of my dress.
Lindsay gave the bouncer our names, and he stepped aside after finding us on the VIP list. The outside of the club had signs advertising tonight’s mas
querade theme in neon lights, along with a large sign announcing SMASH in bold script. The interior of the club featured muted neon lights casting masked faces in a dim light.
“Trent says there’s a private booth with a bottle of champagne reserved for us in the VIP section in the back,” Lindsay shouted as she led the way into the crowd. Trent was the manager of the club, and I could tell she was itching to ditch us at the booth and go find him.
I was mesmerized by all the masked faces swimming in my line of sight. Every person, staff included, had committed to the masquerade theme, so I suspected the dress code was strictly enforced.
We made our way to the booth and immediately popped the champagne. Lindsay made it halfway through her first glass before she abandoned us in search of Trent. Darcy, Nicole, and I sat and kept the champagne flowing while scoping out the dance floor.
“Future father of my children—dark hair, red mask, y’all’s six o’clock,” Darcy gushed, lifting up her flute to gesture his direction.
Nicole and I subtly turned around and found him. I couldn’t blame her; he was undeniably attractive with dark, curly hair and a strictly defined jawline.
We turned back around and Nicole nodded her approval. “He’s crazy hot. Looks like he’s got a friend, too.”
My eyes darted back to confirm her assertion. Sure enough, Darcy’s future baby daddy was talking to a tall blonde guy. My pulse spiked before I could even convince myself to study his face. I didn’t want to know what color his eyes were. I’d set out to leave all thoughts of Emmett behind tonight, and I was already letting the similarities between them come to mind. I shook my head and brought my glass to my lips. What was I going to say—no thanks, I’ve sworn off tall, hot, blonde men?
“C’mon, ladies, let’s go hit the dance floor!” Darcy pleaded.
I’d had enough booze to loosen me up, and I was in the mood to dance. We walked by the two men, and I stifled a laugh when Darcy purposefully bumped into the guy she’d admired. She simultaneously mouthed a fake apology to him and extended her cleavage to draw his eyes south.
Two songs later, Darcy’s FBD (future baby daddy) made his way out to the dance floor and started grinding up against her. Nicole caught my eye and gestured toward the bar. I nodded, all too eager to leave Darcy and whatever-his-name-was to practically dry hump on the dance floor in peace.
A few songs later, Darcy introduced us to the future father of her children, aka Richard. We settled around the booth, including Richard’s blonde friend, Allister. I finally let myself look closely and felt myself relax. His greenish-gray eyes looked nothing like Emmett’s.
After a few minutes of conversation covering the basics, I finally felt my nerves dissipate the tiniest bit. I even studied Allister without making mental comparisons to Emmett. In fact, I was starting to think maybe I was making strides in Operation: Get Over Boston.
Until I looked up and locked eyes with an eerily familiar set of blue eyes across the club. The man’s face was partially hidden beneath a black mask, but his eyes were unmistakably blue and glued to mine. I blinked and just as soon as I’d locked onto him, he’d vanished. In my split-second glance, I hadn’t noticed anything distinguishable about his suit—it was dark, presumably black, with a solid red tie. Along with a third of the other men in the club.
He could not have been Emmett. You’re delusional. Emmett lives in Boston.
Nicole followed my puzzled stare. “Everything okay?”
I jerked my eyes back to the table, realizing everyone was looking at me.
“What? Oh, uh, yeah. Just thought I saw someone I knew. One of my brother’s friends.” I nearly grimaced at the lie, but I couldn’t exactly confess to being jumpy about seeing blonde haired, blue eyed men. I’d rather bungee jump with floss than tell a table full of people how delusional I’d become because of one man. I sucked in a deep breath and made a conscious effort to join in the conversation happening around me.
“Bullshit. I don’t think tattoos are a turnoff for chicks,” Allister asserted.
“Depends on the chick. And the tattoo,” Darcy countered, turning to Richard. “Do you have any?”
He smirked and his eyes darkened. “You’ll have to see for yourself later.”
Subtle.
Allister turned to me, letting his gaze sweep up and down my body shamelessly. I could feel the blush under my mask. “What do you think, Jade? You don’t seem like the tattoo type. Hot or not?”
I resisted the urge to be offended by his comment because I didn’t think he meant to be insulting. I just felt like he was calling me boring somehow. He was wrong; I had a tattoo, but he hadn’t earned the right to know that. The tattoo was far too personal to share with a stranger, which was why I’d chosen to get the tiny, colorful globe on my side, along the upper part of my ribcage. Jasmine wanted a tattoo in memory of her mom, Bethany, who died when we were thirteen, and I agreed to get one with her when we were eighteen. We decided on a globe, because we were determined to see the world, and we’d planned to take a trip with our moms after graduation. The globe was infused with all the colors of the color wheel, because Jas’s mom was an artist.
“Depends on the tattoo, like Darcy said. They’re personal, so I think ones with meaning are a turn on.”
A flash of a small tattoo in script writing on Emmett’s forearm barreled its way into my head. I’d noticed the tattoo as soon as he’d rolled up his sleeves at the bar, but I never got around to asking about the ink. Now I couldn’t even remember exactly what the words were. I shook my head in an attempt to shake the blurred image from my mind. Once again, I was completely distracted by thoughts of the one person I’d been trying to forget.
“I’ll be right back. Ladies room,” I announced to no one in particular. Lindsay was checking on another bottle of bubbly, Nicole had excused herself a few minutes ago to call Trey, and I was fairly certain Darcy wouldn’t have peeled her attention away from Richard unless Justin Timberlake showed up and gave her a lap dance.
I needed air. I also needed to walk off the champagne buzz responsible for the sluggish rate at which my brain was functioning. Or keep drinking until I didn’t care about my brain’s rate of function. I danced along to the Fitz and the Tantrums song blasting overhead as I made my way through the crowd to the bar. I didn’t have a direction in mind, but my body seemed to have a plan of its own. A plan involving more alcohol.
I was almost to the bar when Lindsay flagged me down from a nearby table where she’d been talking to Trent. Seconds after sitting down, a masked waiter set a blue martini in front of me.
“I didn’t order this.”
The waiter cocked his head across the dance floor. “Blonde guy over there did. Said you’d know who he was.”
Lindsay and I both craned our necks around at the same time, but in different directions. My stomach somersaulted, and I instinctively knew the drink wasn’t from Allister. But, of course, there was no mysterious blonde man across the room anymore.
When I didn’t make a move toward my drink, Lindsay’s eyebrows arched in skepticism. “You don’t like martinis? You should at least try this one; it’s their signature drink.”
I took a tentative sip. They used Grey Goose if I had to guess, and the blue raspberry flavor was sweet, but not overwhelming. There was also a twinge of another flavor I couldn’t put my finger on.
“It’s coconut. Subtle, but delicious.”
I nodded. “You’re right; it’s perfect.”
I finished the drink quickly, just in time for Lindsay to jump up and tug at my hand when The Chainsmokers’ latest catchy song pumped through the speakers.
Fueled by vodka and champagne, I was in the dancing zone, and didn’t even think twice about whomever had sent the drink. I refused to believe it was anyone other than Allister. Several songs later, Lindsay and I were hitting our stride when I felt a presence at my back. A set of hands clamped down on my sides. The hands felt oddly familiar, yet wrong at the same time. I looked up at Lindsay
and mouthed Allister? Her eyes tripled in size when she looked up at the figure behind me. She shook her head and continued to stare.
Goosebumps sprang to life along my arms and neck when I felt warm breath on my skin. My pulse quickened, and I was about to turn to see the mystery man when his lips grazed my ear. “Jade.”
One word was all it took for the air to be sucked from my lungs. All at once, the effects of mixing vodka and champagne came crashing down on me, and the room tilted on its axis. I stumbled forward in an attempt to turn around and see his face, and had to grasp at Lindsay’s outstretched arms to keep from falling. The lights blurred together, rendering me unable to focus.
I stumbled off the dance floor without looking back, and without stopping to answer Lindsay’s calls other than to tell her I was going to the bathroom. Masked, laughing faces swam around me, making the room spin even more than when I stood still. I realized the bathroom was a worthless endeavor the second I saw a line of women waiting – although the “line” could’ve been made up of seven versions of the same woman for all I knew.
With a literal neon sign hanging above, the back exit beckoned me outside. I pushed open the door and stepped into the alley. I needed to get away from the pounding rap lyrics and blinding lights of the club.
In my heels, I staggered forward until I could brace myself against the wall. The world kept spinning around me, so I squeezed my eyes closed and sucked in as much air as my lungs allowed.
This felt like more than just being drunk. This felt like someone had thrown me into a blender and then plucked me out and put me right back in the club. I couldn’t understand what was happening, but I realized something was very wrong.
The door behind me opened, telling me I had company. I couldn’t bring myself to look, though; I knew the second I peeled back my eyelids everything would spin around me once more. Seconds ticked by. Whoever had opened the door wasn’t speaking, just inching their way toward me.