“Isabelle, you need to talk to your parents—sooner rather than later,” he said. “Or I’ll have to.”
She nodded. “I will, but there’s something I need to do first.”
She raced out, trying not to look as terrified as she felt, and found her mom in the waiting room. It was a miracle Eliza hadn’t come into the exam room with her in the first place, but after Isabelle said she could hardly get in trouble in the doctor’s office and could her mother at least let her do this one thing on her own, the woman finally relented.
Thank goodness she had.
“Everything okay?” her mom asked as Isabelle approached.
“Yep. All good.”
“Well, do you have mono?”
“No,” she said. “I guess I just need more sleep.”
Her mother laser-focused her gaze on her daughter. “Maybe I should go talk to the doctor, Isabelle.”
“Mom, I promise there’s absolutely nothing you can do,” Isabelle said. “Maybe I’ll go home and take a nap on the beach.”
Her mother held her position for several seconds, then finally shook her head. “Well, all right, let’s go.”
Half an hour later, Isabelle was dressed in her bathing suit, carrying a beach bag and looking every bit like a person who was going to spend the day lying in the sun.
“Is it okay if I head down toward Lydia’s beach?” Isabelle asked.
Her mom gave her a sideways glance.
“Mom, please,” Isabelle said. “I’ve basically been a prisoner all summer. Haven’t I proven that I can be trusted?”
The words practically smacked her in the face. What a liar!
But how was she supposed to escape her mother’s watchful eye? She absolutely had to see JD.
“Isabelle, if I find out you’re deceiving me again—”
“I’m not, Mom. I swear.”
“I have a meeting at the arts center, but I will know if you’re lying. I have friends everywhere.”
No, Mother, only in the places where rich people go.
Isabelle hurried off on her bike, praying her mom didn’t find out the truth about where she was headed and then quickly realizing the irony. Once her mother found out the truth about her condition, a bike ride to the yacht club would be a most welcome deception.
She rushed toward the staff entrance, dropping her bike on the lawn out front and running inside.
JD would likely be in the restaurant, waiting tables, and she didn’t want to get him in trouble—but was that as important as what she needed to tell him?
She stood off to the side near a doorway and tried to remain inconspicuous. Finally—finally—JD looked her way, his expression running a wide range until finally it landed on the right one: concern.
She motioned for him to meet her in the staff area, and she walked into the employee locker room and waited for him.
A few minutes later, he came through the door. She raced into his arms, clinging to him as if she had to hold tightly or she might not survive.
And she might not.
“Bella, what’s going on? Are you okay?”
“I need to talk to you,” she said.
He opened the door to the men’s changing room and peered inside. “There’s no one in here.”
She followed him in and paced back and forth as he sat on one of the benches.
“Okay, Isabelle, you’re freaking me out.”
“I don’t even know how to say this.”
“What is it? Are you sick? Are your parents leaving early? It can’t be that bad. Just tell me.”
She faced him. “JD, I’m pregnant.”
There. It was out. Unable to be taken back. And now she’d deal with the aftermath as best she could.
“You’re what?”
She felt a lump swell in her throat. “Pregnant.” The word came out in a whisper.
He stood up in front of her and stopped her from moving. “But we only—”
“Did it once? Yeah, I know.”
He looked stunned. Or maybe terrified. Or completely freaked out. Or all of the above. Exactly the way she felt.
“I guess once really is all it takes.”
“Okay,” he said. “First of all, are you okay?”
“My parents are going to kill me.” Her voice broke and she started to cry, falling into his arms again. He held her and they cried together because what else did two kids do when they found out news like this?
She pulled away. “I’m scared, JD.”
He ran his hand through his hair and met her eyes. “Okay, but you’re not alone. I’m not going anywhere. Maybe . . .” He seemed to be searching his mind, but what possible solution would he find? “Maybe we get married. You move to Boston and go to school there?”
“And you finish college with a wife and a baby?”
“For you, I’d do that,” he said. “It’s not perfect, but it’s what we’ve got. We could get a little apartment, and I’ll get another job. Or I’ll quit school and work full-time. Whatever it takes, Bella. I’ll do whatever it takes.”
The tears started again. Listening to him, she knew it was crazy. She knew the plan wouldn’t work. She knew there were a million reasons they couldn’t get married and play house, and yet she found herself wanting exactly that. Never mind that it would be a while before she’d travel the world. Never mind that it wasn’t exactly what she’d planned. They’d be together, and that mattered more than anything else, right?
“We’ll figure it out, okay?” He pulled her into him again and held her while she cried, kissing the top of her head protectively. “It’s going to be okay.”
And for some reason—maybe naiveté—she believed him.
CHAPTER 31
HOLLIS DIDN’T MEAN TO EAVESDROP.
He stood in the entryway of the cottage, having opened the door right in the middle of Emily pounding a hammer into the wall. At first he was going to rush in, make sure she was okay, but then the pounding stopped and the conversation started.
She wasn’t alone.
Emily had always been the kind of person to share her thoughts freely. She’d always been open, saying pretty much whatever came to her mind.
But he also thought (hoped?) she was only that way with him.
He should’ve interrupted right away, made his presence known, but then Jack mentioned his name, and what was he going to do? Barge in and contradict him? Tell him he was wrong—Hollis didn’t look at Emily that way—and she was right not to get involved with anyone?
Especially Hollis.
Like Jolie said—Hollis ruined things.
So why did the words “Hollis and I are just friends” sting the way they did?
Now, standing just outside the kitchen, he heard Jack say something about the Dumpster, so he slipped back onto the front porch, where he could confront the man without Emily overhearing.
He waited for Jack to step out of the house and into the sticky summer night as the sun dipped low in the sky.
The load of debris from the house came out of the door first, positioned on Jack’s shoulder, and Hollis knew Jack couldn’t see him standing off to the side. The older man walked down the stairs and over to the Dumpster, tossed the garbage away, then glanced to where Hollis stood.
“Hey, Hollis,” he said, unruffled by his presence. “Emily’s inside. She’s demo’ing the wall in the kitchen. It already looks better.”
Hollis glared. “Don’t do that.”
Jack’s eyebrow twitched upward. “Sorry?”
“What’s your deal here, Jack?”
The older man straightened. “I’m not sure I follow.”
“First I catch you looking through the desk in Isabelle’s room; now you’re here having a conversation with Emily like you’re a long-lost family friend or something. Why do you care so much about her personal life if you’re just here to remodel the house?”
Jack locked onto his glare and didn’t back down. “I don’t do this for a living, Hollis. I like to know th
e people I’m working with.”
“For.”
“Sorry?”
“You work for her.”
“And she’s a great young woman.”
“The kind of woman you want to know better?” He eyed Jack for a long moment. “She’s too young for you, man. You need to keep a healthy distance from her or we’re going to have a problem.”
“You’ve got the wrong idea here, Hollis,” Jack said.
“What kind of idea should I have, then, Jack?”
“None,” Jack said. “I’m just here to do a job, to turn this house into exactly what Emily wants it to be.”
“Right,” Hollis said. “You’d be smart to remember that.”
Jack didn’t argue. Instead, he gave Hollis one stern nod, then walked to his truck, got inside, and drove off.
Whoever this guy was, Hollis didn’t trust him.
And he didn’t like the way Jack’s conversation with Emily seemed to be on repeat in his mind.
“Be cautious with your heart.”
It was a directive her mother had given her, which meant his old friend would only ever be a friend. And while he knew that was best, he also hated knowing it. Yes, he wanted to keep his promise to Jolie—had to, really, if he had any hope of winning her over. But Emily—she’d woven her way into the underside of his heart, the deep parts that most people couldn’t reach.
He shook the thought aside and walked back into the house, closing the door behind him.
“Jack, look,” Emily called out from the kitchen. “Look how much bigger the house seems now.”
Hollis walked into the kitchen and stopped at the sight of her, hair pulled up in a messy bun on the top of her head, wild strands falling around her face. She wore a pair of cutoff jean shorts and a red tank top, a navy-blue plaid shirt tied around her waist. In her hands, a sledgehammer.
And she looked adorable. More than adorable, in fact. She looked gorgeous.
For a split second, they stood there, not saying a word. The air between them sizzled and he imagined all the things he’d like to do if circumstances were different.
He wouldn’t say a word. He’d walk straight to her, back her up against the wall, and kiss her until neither of them could see straight.
Desire coursed through his veins, spiking his heart rate, impossible to ignore.
Finally she let the top of the hammer fall loose to the ground. “Hey.”
“Hey.” He begged his pulse to slow down. Willed his mind to stop running off without his permission. Remembered there would be repercussions if he acted on the things he was thinking.
Remembered he ruined things.
“What are you doing here? Where’s Jack?”
“He had to go,” Hollis said. “Need help?”
He counted off the seconds in his head as she watched him, their eyes connected as if they were something more than just friends. This was doing nothing to steady his breathing.
“Uh, sure,” she said.
He walked over to where she stood and brushed past her as he began to create a pile out of the massive mess she’d made tearing down the wall.
A heavy tension hovered in the air between them as he worked, and he searched his mind for something—anything—to say to make it disappear.
“You’re a messy worker,” he finally said.
He wouldn’t be winning any awards for excellent conversation starters, but it was the first thing that came to his mind. And it was followed by her glorious laugh, which was enough to keep him from feeling stupid—and enough to cut the tension out of the room.
They worked in amicable silence for several minutes while Hollis made trips to the Dumpster and she continued to pound on the wall.
“You seem to have a knack for destroying things,” he joked. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”
“It’s very therapeutic. You should try it.”
He glanced at her, and she held the hammer out in his direction. “Are you tired?” he asked.
“Actually, yes, and starving.”
He took the hammer from her and handed her his phone. “Order a pizza. You’ve put in more than a full day.”
“But there’s still a little more wall to knock out,” she said.
“I’ll get it.”
She sighed the words “My hero” and grinned at him.
He turned away to hide his smile, but man, he loved being around her. He told Emily to go figure out what Jack did with her plates as he finished knocking out the wall, then carried the debris to the Dumpster.
He’d just about finished when the pizza guy showed up in the driveway. He paid for the food, then returned to the kitchen carrying the box, but the room was empty.
“Em?”
“Outside,” she called.
He followed her voice to the patio, which, in spite of still being torn up, looked cozy under the moonlight with two flickering candles on the table. Emily lounged in one of the chairs, feet up on another one.
“My shoulders are killing me from that hammer,” she said. “Will you rub them? I know it’s annoying, but I can feel the knot right . . . here.” She stuck her hand where her neck and shoulder met.
Hollis set the pizza on the table, then moved over behind Emily and rested his hands on her shoulders. She picked one of his hands up and pressed it down on her shoulder where she did, indeed, have a healthy knot forming. “Feel that?”
“Yeah, it’s tight,” he said.
He stared at the back of her neck, and it stared back, bare, like a welcome invitation.
“I don’t really know what I’m doing, you know,” he said.
“You’ve never given any of your girlfriends a back rub before?”
He chose to laugh instead of respond. He didn’t know how to tell her he hadn’t seriously dated many women. He’d had a few relationships, but none were noteworthy. His longest was with a woman named Cherise, a flight attendant and maybe the only person he knew who traveled more than he did. They’d only been together a year, but he knew at the beginning it wasn’t going to last—he was just too . . . something . . . to end it. He kept thinking maybe he’d feel differently the next time he saw her.
He never did.
He looked at his hands resting on Emily’s neck. She was perfectly relaxed, but he was a rigid mess.
He moved the strands of hair that had fallen from her elastic out of the way, and let his hands linger there for a moment, the skin of her neck enticing him. That’s when his mind started to play tricks on him, flashing images of what could happen without permission, like a slide show he shouldn’t be watching.
He imagined leaning down, letting his lips graze the side of her neck, moving over to her shoulder and back up again—he’d inhale the scent of her while he left a trail of kisses all along her collarbone.
“Hollis?” She twisted and looked up at him.
“Sorry,” he said. He forced himself to concentrate on the knot in her right shoulder instead of thoughts that could get him in trouble.
“What do you think of Jack?” she asked as he rubbed.
How was he supposed to form sentences as his hands made contact with her skin, as he became acutely aware of how soft it was? “Uh, I’m not sure. Why?”
“I think he’s a really nice guy,” Emily said. “I think he wishes he could get back together with his ex-wife.”
“What makes you say that?”
She let her head fall to one side and stayed silent for a long moment. “Something he said tonight. I think he regrets getting divorced.”
“I think you should be careful with that guy, Emily,” Hollis said.
She straightened. “What do you mean?”
He stopped rubbing her shoulders for a split second and drew in a breath. How to say it without alarming her or sounding like a jealous loser?
“Well, what do we really know about him?”
Emily went back to her relaxed posture, and Hollis pressed his fingers into the backs of her shoulders. “I don�
�t know,” she said. “How much do we really know about anybody?”
“Well, I know plenty about you.”
She laughed. “You think you do.”
He pulled his hands away and sat down next to her. Her hand went immediately to her shoulder and started rubbing.
“Maybe you need a massage,” Hollis said. “Don’t women love massages?”
Emily stared at him. “First of all, I think that’s mildly sexist, and second of all, they cost a fortune.”
Hollis leaned back in his chair. “Since when does that matter?”
Her face went blank for a split second, and then she recovered (or tried to) with a quick shrug. “I’m just trying not to spend money frivolously. Besides, you did a great job on my shoulders. It doesn’t hurt at all anymore.”
He could see she was lying, though he had no idea why. He opened the box of pizza and breathed in the smell of garlicky sauce, cheese, and delicious baked dough. He dished up two pieces for her, then two for himself, leaned back in his chair, and forced her to meet his gaze.
“Secret, secret,” he said.
Emily groaned. “Oh no.”
“Oh yes.” He grinned. He’d been saving his turn for a time when he actually had something worth asking, and now he had it.
“Fine.” Emily took a bite. “What do you want to know?”
He swallowed his pizza, took a swig of water, then drew in a breath as if prolonging her torture was a game he enjoyed very much. Then he met her eyes. “Why does it matter how expensive a massage is when I know you have a substantial trust fund that was meant to carry you through your golden years with enough left over for your children’s children?”
She set her plate down on the table. “Do you need more water?”
“Emily.”
Now he knew there was more to her frugality than simple frugality. And she had to know there was no point in lying to him about it for another second because he’d call her out on it and this was her stupid game to begin with.
“This game is dumb,” she said.
He laughed. “I told you that years ago, though it is the only reason I ever got to kiss you, so I guess I can’t hate it too much.”
She found his eyes, and he smiled at her. Sometimes Hollis said things he shouldn’t, and he almost always regretted it—but not this time.
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