“I am not in love,” I immediately deny.
No way.
Not even close to happening.
Jim shrugs. “What can I say? I’m an old married man who revels in spending the rest of my life with Ella. Maybe you’re not quite in love, but you are definitely, very deeply in like.”
Now, that I can’t argue with.
“In fact,” Jim drawls, his smile turning slightly evil, “I heard a rumor that Dominik busted you kissing Emory Holland in her office.”
My eyes flare in surprise. No one has said a word about that, so I assumed Dominik kept that private. He’s not a gossip. He’s a billionaire and men like him have no need to gossip.
“I think he told Willow and Willow told Dax,” Jim says, noting the confusion in my expression.
Well, in fairness… that’s not exactly gossiping. That’s Dominik telling his wife, who told her brother, who happens to be a member of the Vengeance. Now, I can totally see Dax spreading that around like wildfire, and my eyes drift across the room to where he’s playing a game of pool with Legend.
Asshole.
But not really. I don’t care if anyone knows I’ve got a thing for Emory. I mean, they already know since I made a fool of myself that first time she walked into the team auditorium and my tongue fell out of my mouth.
“That’s cool you like her,” Jim says, and his tone is now a cross between being brotherly and fatherly. “She seems great.”
“She is,” I confirm, and because Jim is like my brother but has the wisdom of a father, I decide to tap into that. “Can I ask you a personal question?”
“Sure,” he says easily. “Doesn’t mean I’ll answer.”
“Understood,” I reply with an easy laugh. I turn my body toward him slightly so that we’re not overheard. “You and Ella were separated for a while, and I don’t care about details, but I assume that whatever drove you apart has been overcome?”
That’s completely vague, but I truly don’t want to pry into the details of the marital problems Jim had. I know the essential gist. He’s been honest about it, admitting he didn’t make Ella a priority in his life and she eventually asked for the separation as she was so miserable. But I don’t need any more than that. I need to know how one forgives.
Jim takes a pull on his beer and after swallowing, he says, “It took a lot of hard work on my part to overcome Ella’s fears and mistrust.”
Now we’re getting somewhere. That’s what I’m wondering about.
“But it was work you were willing to do?” I ask.
“More than willing,” Jim replies with a somber look. “She’s my wife. I love her deeply. I would have done anything to get her back.”
I grunt in displeasure over his answer. I suppose anything can be overcome if there’s love and you put hard work into it.
“What’s going on?” Jim asks, minutely moving in a bit closer and tipping his head in concern.
I glance around and see that we’re largely being ignored. Making the decision to just lay it out there, I say, “Emory’s divorced. And her ex-husband has come into town… back into her life. They have a daughter.”
I spend the next five minutes telling Jim a quick summary of Emory’s history with Shane, asking him to keep it confidential. I know he won’t tell a soul, not even his wife since I’ve asked him not to, and he readily agrees.
Wrapping up my dilemma, I say, “I guess I’m worried that he’ll work his way back into her life. That he’ll work hard the way you did and get her to forgive him.”
“And?” Jim presses, because he wants me to say it out loud.
“And I’m wondering if I should stay in the game or back away and give her a chance to figure things out?”
Jim frowns and shakes his head. “Sorry… but I think I missed the part where you told me that Emory was conflicted about her feelings for her ex-husband. That she was considering giving him a shot.”
“Well, she’s not.” I look at him like that’s a silly statement. “She’s said the opposite, as a matter of fact. She’s completely done with him.”
“Then what’s the fucking problem?” Jim asks, good-naturedly of course, but the point is clear that he thinks my worry is sort of stupid.
“You worked hard for it,” I point out. “Shane might work just as hard.”
“Apples and oranges,” Jim says shaking his head. “My problems with Ella were nowhere near the problems Emory had with her ex-husband. You’re talking addiction and abuse she had to suffer. That’s some serious shit and sounds to me like she’s solidly moved on.”
“You’re right,” I mutter, mentally kicking myself in the ass for even having a moment of doubt. Emory has point blank told me she doesn’t love him anymore… that he had killed her ability to even like him. I trust her on that.
Jim lifts his beer, points his index finger at me. “As to your question… should you back away… only you can answer that. Do you think she’s better off if you do?”
“I don’t think so,” I reply. I’m a little unsure about this one because while Emory and I have grown tight these last few weeks, I’m a little unsure of what I might bring to the table for her. She’s such a strong and determined woman, does she really need me?
Jim doesn’t let me contemplate that further. “Are you better off if you back away? I mean, it can be stressful trying to date a single mom, balancing time with her and her kid, and add in an addict dad back in the picture, she sounds like she’s a lot of work. Is she worth it?”
I know Jim is trying to goad me into making a stand, and it works. “Fuck yes, she’s worth it.”
Laughing, Jim gives me a soft punch in my shoulder with the hand not holding a beer. “I’m pretty sure you really don’t have anything to worry about. Just be supportive of her.”
That I can do. I’ve found that not hard to do at all, which is odd, because that whole “responsibility” thing in a relationship was why I so diligently avoided them. But with Emory, it doesn’t feel like work at all.
CHAPTER 18
Emory
When I first met Shane at UCLA it wasn’t in the Colonial Beginnings of American Literature class he taught. It was at a coffee shop just off campus and the meeting was brief, yet impactful. My credit card had been declined, an embarrassing oversight in paying the monthly minimum, but I had just started my junior year and my parents had insisted I take over my incidental bills.
Shane had been standing behind me and gallantly bought my cup of coffee. It was one of those moments where you look at someone and you’re just struck by their beauty. Shane was gorgeous, and I could tell several years older than me, but I was a stammering idiot in thanking him. He later told me that he felt the same way when he saw me.
It was a chance meeting. We went our separate ways without exchanging names but there was a long, last, lingering look between us.
And then four days later, I walked into his classroom.
I don’t know who was more shocked. I had no clue he’d be teaching Colonial Beginnings of American Literature. It was an elective I chose only because I was late in making my selections and it was open and fit into my schedule. My major was in English lit with a minor in mass communications. I had aspirations of writing a bestselling novel, hence the English major, but was hedging my bets on a more stable career, thus the mass communications minor.
At any rate, it was almost two weeks into the course before he ever said a word to me. During that time, I found his eyes on me a lot as he talked from his lectern, and my eyes were always on him rather than taking notes. In hindsight, I’m not sure how I passed that class because, despite the fact we eventually became lovers that semester, he never cut me any slack.
It started off innocent enough. My offer to buy him coffee as a thank you for catching me that one time. That led to drinks. To dinner. To a kiss. To making out. To sex. To love.
I was deeply, head over heels, in love with my college professor, and I couldn’t tell anyone about it.
Ex
cept I did.
I told Jenna, but she and I held no secrets from each other.
It was too risky to Shane for us to be known as a couple, so we secretly saw each other. We spent every waking minute together when we weren’t on campus. We were in love and then I became pregnant in my senior year.
It wasn’t planned. I didn’t want kids, at least not until I was in my thirties and had an established career.
But Shane was ready for children. He was in his early thirties and the next thing I knew, he was proposing.
I loved him. I had a choice to make, and while I didn’t think I was ready for a kid, I couldn’t imagine my life being better in any other way. It’s a choice I’ve never regretted, no matter that my marriage ultimately fell apart.
As I move to the door to answer Shane’s knock, my stomach tightens into coils of dread. I’m transported back to the days before we separated, where I never knew what Shane would be coming through our door. Normal Shane, all easy-going smiles. Stoned Shane with bleary eyes and delayed responses. Angry Shane, who didn’t like the fact I rode his ass about taking drugs.
I have no clue what’s on the other side of my door, and I close my eyes a moment to collect myself.
We’re as ready as we can be. I talked to Nora yesterday afternoon and explained the situation. She had a lot of advice but it boiled down to being transparent with Felicity on what was going on, only offering information as she asked questions and making sure it was appropriate to her age.
That evening, I sat down with Felicity, and Jenna was there too. I explained her father was in town and wanted to see her. At first, her expression was blank, then confused. As if she couldn’t even remember who I was talking about. Then it clicked and she got excited.
I had to back her up a bit and explain some things.
I had to get her ready for the potential of Shane failing her.
In age-appropriate terms and being vague where it was necessary, I explained her daddy had been sick. I used the word addiction because when I told her he was sick, it wasn’t with the stomach flu that could be helped with some doctor prescribed medicine. I explained about his ski accident and pain and pain pills and how people can become addicted. I gave a lot of credit to Shane for his repeated attempts at sobriety, and I refrained from talking about my frustrations and disappointments in him. She’d have to figure that out on her own.
When I was done talking to Felicity, Jenna took her to get her bath and I called Shane. My terms were straightforward and with strict boundaries. He could come tonight to see her, but I would be there. I told him about my transparency with her, and he actually felt that was for the best.
Shane was incredibly grateful for the opportunity and we made plans for him to come by at dinner time, giving us something to do to help alleviate the awkwardness.
Opening my eyes, I take in a fortifying breath and I open the door.
Shane stands there looking like he did the other night. Healthy, bright eyes, and good color to his skin.
Smiling and hopeful.
My breath shoots out like a rocket, because the larger part of me thought he’d show up high. Which is why I made Jenna keep Felicity in her bedroom until I could assess the situation.
I motion for him to come in and his head ducks a moment, dropping his gaze. He’s feeling awkward I can tell, but the feeling is mutual.
“Hey,” I say in greeting and then explain, “Felicity’s in her room with Jenna.”
Shane lifts his eyes and gives a nervous chuckle. “I guess I didn’t expect her to be waiting at the door ready to fling herself in my arms in excitement. It’s been two years.”
He’s right about all that… Felicity is a little reserved. But I decide to be blunt with him. “I had her wait in her room because I wasn’t sure what state you’d show up in.”
Shane winces and says, “Ouch.”
I don’t reply, just staring at him. Finally, he nods and admits, “I can understand why you don’t trust me.”
“I don’t trust you,” I affirm and he flinches. “But for Felicity’s sake, I will be rooting for you to continue your sobriety all the way. I really hope it sticks this time, Shane.”
“It will,” he says with surety.
I’ve heard that before, so I don’t even acknowledge the promise. I merely nod my head toward the kitchen. “Pizza is on the table. Help yourself and I’ll get Felicity.”
♦
I push the doorbell to Jett’s condo. Six weeks ago, I wanted nothing to do with him. A few scant weeks ago, we were having what was supposed to be meaningless sex.
Tonight?
Well, tonight I can’t wait to be able to sit down with him for a few moments and tell him all about how my evening has gone so far.
All the highs and lows.
The nerves fraying as Shane and Felicity got to know one another again.
The happiness rippling off her as I tucked her into bed after he left, excited at the new opportunities to have her dad back in her life.
My dread that this was only temporary, and Shane would crush her again.
The door opens and there he stands, always the most handsome and sexy man I’ve ever known, but more than that… the person I want to unload on.
He seemingly knows this as his arms open up and I walk right into them.
Yeah… it used to be meaningless, but this right here has more meaning than anything I’ve had in a very long time.
“Want to tell me all about it or would you rather me just fuck your brains out to forget it for a bit? Then you can tell me about it.”
My head jerks back and I look up at him. I had thought a cuddle on the couch is what I needed, but the fucking my brains out has merit.
Apparently, my hesitancy in responding has him making the decision for me. He releases his hold on me, turns me toward the couch, and slaps me playfully on the butt. “Go sit down. I’ll get you a glass of wine.”
I blink in surprise, moving toward the sofa. “You have wine?”
“I do,” he calls from the kitchen where I hear him pulling glasses out of the cabinet. “I figure if I’m dating someone, and she might be staying here on occasion, I need to stock the things she likes.”
“I was happy with you just having tea for me in the mornings,” I say as I plop down on the couch and then turn to watch him across the island that separates the kitchen from the living room in this open floor plan.
“I’ve got tea, wine, scones—”
“I don’t like scones,” I point out.
“You’re British,” he mocks teasingly as he pours me a glass of wine. “How can you not like scones?”
“Too dry for me,” I explain. “It’s like your American biscuits. Too dry as well. Give me a fluffy croissant and I’m happy.”
This light chatter has me more relaxed than if I’d had a glass of wine, but I still gratefully accept it when Jett comes back to the couch. I note he doesn’t have his own glass but then again, he doesn’t like wine. But he doesn’t have a beer in hand either.
I take a sip of red, hum my approval and set it down on the side table. Turning to face Jett, I say, “I’m so glad that’s over.”
“That bad, huh?” he guesses. He knows how monumental this meeting was tonight. He knows how worried I’ve been about it.
I shrug. “I wouldn’t say bad. Just that there was a lot of tension, mostly on my part, admittedly. Felicity didn’t pick up on it and I think Shane just ignored it to concentrate on her, but God when he walked out the door, I felt all my bones just turn to mush.”
“How did Felicity do with it?” he asks and the genuine concern for my daughter warms me through and through.
“Kids are resilient.” I reach out for my glass of wine, take another sip and choose to just hold onto it. “At least that was the reassurance Nora gave me yesterday. But to answer your question, she was fine. She was the most relaxed out of all of us. Jenna and I sort of hung back in the kitchen while Shane played with her in the living room.
He was nervous, of course. But Felicity was just happy to have him there.”
“Did she ask him where he’s been and why he hasn’t been in contact?” Jett asks curiously.
I shake my head. “I’m not sure if it’s because I explained some of that to her already, or she was just caught up in playing with him, or hell… maybe she just doesn’t care because kids forgive and move on so easily.”
Jett takes my free hand, rubbing his thumb across the back. “What’s next on the agenda?”
I shrug. “Shane wants to see her again and as much as possible. We’re going to touch base by phone tomorrow to set stuff up, but I’m thinking he can come to the house after Felicity gets home from school. Jenna will be there to supervise. That way I won’t have to be around him.”
“Is there cause for concern?” Jett’s eyebrows pull inward. “You being around him?”
With a sigh, I admit, “I don’t know. I just know in the past, when he would get sober and re-enter our lives, it was always to re-establish the relationship with me. It’s almost like Felicity was a second thought.”
“But you’re divorced,” Jett points out. “Surely he can’t think there could ever be anything.”
“You’d think,” I mutter, taking a larger sip of wine.
“Can there ever be anything?” Jett asks, and his tone catches me off guard. It’s… jealous?
I smile at him, curling my fingers inward to his palm before squeezing. “No. There can never be anything between us. I’ll never go back to that type of uncertainty in a relationship and with an addict, there is always uncertainty.”
Jett nods in understanding, and I feel bad that he might be a little insecure that Shane is back, but he truly has nothing to worry about. I feel nothing for the man. I don’t even have a kernel of fondness for the fact he fathered Felicity. He lost every bit of care and respect he had from me and he’ll never earn it back.
“I wouldn’t know,” Jett murmurs thoughtfully. “I’ve never known someone with demons like that.”
“I tried,” I say softly, and Jett tips his head at me. “I tried so hard to help him. To make it work. To have patience and grace. I tried to forgive, and forget, and I had renewed hope every time he got sober. I tried so fucking hard, but then there just came a time when I couldn’t anymore. It’s like a switch turned off and I had nothing left to offer Shane. I had no ability to help him, or tolerate him, and I had no more grace. I feel bad about it sometimes, but I also know I don’t owe him anything. I’ll do what I can so my daughter can foster a relationship with him in a safe environment, but that’s all I’ll put forth for Shane anymore.”
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