by Sara Shirley
Josh has a couple of days off and stops in to see how things are going at the house. I know he is fishing for information on Sue. I tell him everything around the house is hunky dory. Basically, I end up telling him everything except what is going on with Sue. This only pisses him off and forces him to ask the question about her and the baby.
I explain to him that she had gone to the doctor recently, and everything checked out fine. Dave showed me their first ultrasound picture when he was here after the appointment. Something tells me he is already a proud papa. I never thought he could take on something so grown up, but maybe he just needed the right girl to steer him in the right direction.
I’ve lasted the entire five days without Emily, and she is due to return from her Paris trip late tonight, but I won’t see her until tomorrow. Mom wants to make sure I ask her over for Thanksgiving dinner when I see her. It is always a huge affair at my parents’ house to have dinner, watch football, and then turn on the outside holiday lights. If Josh isn’t working that day, he’ll make sure we end up watching National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. No matter how many times we watch that movie or know exactly what’s going to be said, we still laugh hysterically.
Josh and I help get out all the Christmas decorations from storage in the garage. Dad is busy tinkering with his snow blower as I pull the last of the lights from the closet. Putting the box down, I make my way over to him. “Need any help with that?”
He pulls out his Phillips head from his pocket and starts tightening the panels. “Nah, she’s just about set to go. Just need to add some oil and tighten her up. You know what they say about a fuckin’ tight blower?” he jokes as he nudges my side with his elbow.
I laugh at my old man’s sick mind. “No, Dad, what do they say about a fuckin’ tight blower?”
“Well, Son, if you don’t have a tight blower, she’s gonna leak all over the place. Need to make sure all those hoses are secured properly.” Dad laughs as he walks back around to his tool table. I really never, ever want to imagine my saint of a mom doing anything of that nature with my dad. It’s just so wrong, but Dad has been this way all my life. He’s sick, but he’s a funny shit. “Is Emily coming over for dinner on Thursday?” he asks.
Turning back to grab the box of lights and zipping up my hoodie as the temperature continues to drop, I answer, “I’ll ask her tomorrow after she gets back. Her flight doesn’t come in until almost midnight tonight.”
I think Dad has really started thinking of Emily as family. Sue is practically a daughter to him since her parents moved away years ago. She became a fixture at the Page house once she dated Josh and became Courtney’s best friend. Emily seems to have fit into that role in just three short months. It’s no wonder I was immediately drawn to her that first day; she has such a contagious beauty about her that you can’t help but fall in love with her.
As I begin walking out of the garage with the decorations, I hear Dad say behind me, “Son, she’s a little firecracker, that one. She might be new to the Page house, and no matter what happens between you two, she’s always welcome here.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
Paris was certainly an uneventful trip. It was dull compared to the trip to Denver and Vancouver last month. My mother kept to my side for the majority of the event. After spending so much time with Jeremy’s family, who are so understanding and allow breathing room, her continued annoying persistence got on my last nerve. It didn’t take much to set me off. However, after my last trip with her and the tabloid story, which no doubt earned my parents a few dollars, I had my guard up just in case.
Other than a few emails here and there, Jeremy and I kept our word not to be a distraction to each other during the week away. The Trophée Eric Bompard normally attracts more international skaters than the last two because it’s held in Paris. This allowed me to get a feel for the competition. These are the girls I’ll be competing against should I be selected by the International Skating Union to represent the USA at the Olympics and the World Championships. From the sneak attack I just endured from a fifteen-year-old Russian girl, I have my work cut out for me. I still took home gold, though. Don’t get me wrong; she was a threat without any doubt, but I had my eyes set on winning, and that was it. My scores weren’t as high as the other two competitions, which pissed me off, but it was still enough for me to earn the top spot. My mother couldn’t find much to fault at Skate Canada since she was too busy working the front-page story with Daddy. When she saw my lower combined average in Paris, I heard all about it. She claimed I was spending too much time with “bad influences,” which ultimately caused my lack of focus on skating. I blatantly laughed in her face, caught her completely off guard. Then, she proceeded to call my behavior childish and unwelcome, to which my response was, “So was your front-page tabloid picture and attempt to sell me out to save your own ass?”
That was the last time I spoke to her or Daddy. I spent Thanksgiving at the Page house, where I ate far too much food, but I managed to get two days off from training since Suzy had returned home to be with her parents for the holiday. I woke up from a deep sleep to Jeremy’s alarm going off at six this morning. He had to attend a morning skate and then head out to lunch with Dave.
While sitting in the back seat of Grace’s Honda Pilot with Sue while Courtney sits in the front passenger seat, I am experiencing my first time Black Friday shopping. So far, I’m not going to lie. It sucks. I mean, I get the hype of the whole thing, but I prefer to just shop online and avoid the madness of everyone trying to find the big sale. I’ve never had to really buy for anyone. Growing up at the Cameron house, I’d only ever get skating gear or something impersonal like a gift card to the salon. I never bought anything for my parents except for a bottle of wine, which I’m sure was opened and consumed before I made it back to my apartment. Holidays were never warm and inviting. Sure, my parents held their annual holiday party, but that was all for show. Sorry, appearances. There were never warm hugs and shared memories. Not like when I walked into the Pages’ house yesterday before dinner, where I was greeted by numerous hugs, laughter, and family stories.
Once we finally get back to the house and unload the overabundance of bags piled in the trunk, I make my way to Jeremy’s apartment. I send him a quick text, letting him know I’m home and I’ll see him when he gets back, but not to rush his lunch with Dave.
I rest on the sofa, brushing out Aspen’s fur and watching one of the Hallmark Channel’s holiday movies in my yoga pants and one of Jeremy’s hoodies. I have a strange feeling running through my body at how I had texted Jeremy that I’m home and yet he never asked what home. Did he assume I meant here? Should I be here? It’s only been three months, but it feels as though me being in his place waiting for him is right.
I must have dozed off on the sofa, because when I wake up, I have a blanket covering me and the sun is just starting to set. The TV has a Bruins game just finishing up, and I hear the shower running. Jeremy must have come home and didn’t wake me.
Stretching out my arms as I stand, Aspen stirs on his dog bed next to the sofa. “You want a cookie, boy?” Walking towards the glass jar on the kitchen counter, I pull out a biscuit and toss it as he jumps up to catch it mid-air. “Good boy,” I say, rubbing his head before heading toward the bathroom.
Closing the door quietly, I remove my clothes swiftly before opening the steam-covered glass door. Jeremy turns when he hears the glass shut behind me. “Hey, babe, sleep well?” he asks before pulling me against his wet body and giving me a long passionate kiss.
“Not really, you weren’t there next to me. Why didn’t you wake me?”
“You looked so peaceful. I couldn’t do it. Plus, I’d have to wake you up soon anyway. We’re heading out to pick up the Christmas tree before dinner. Mom wants you to come over to help bake cookies with Courtney and Sue, while Josh and I help Dad get the tree.”
Who is this family, and how did I ever get this lucky to have them come into my life? Wrapping my arms ar
ound his waist as the water streams down his back, I glance up into his eyes. “Nothing would make this day any more perfect.”
“You sure about that, babe? There are a few other things I could do to make this day better.” Winking at me mischievously, he kneels down in front of me, spreading my legs before he makes good on making my day just that much more perfect.
Why the hell I’m standing here dressed in a chimp suit with my hair slicked back, I’ll never know. Pushing in the other cufflink Emily gave me for my birthday, I realize why. I love her and would do anything to make her happy, even if that means dressing in this fancy suit and tie for her parents’ holiday party. I’m fairly certain my bruised nose from the puck that deflected off the ice during practice the other day will piss her parents off to no end. Fine by me, if I have to behave myself all night, just the thought of my face embarrassing them in front of their clients will please me.
About a half hour later, I’m pulling into Emily’s garage. The party isn’t to start for another hour, so catering trucks and valet attendants at the front gate are all that are in the driveway. I have to tell the asshole to check the guest list since he isn’t going to let me through easily. Apparently, guys that look like me are not the typical Cameron party types. Shocking!
I knock on Emily’s door before hearing her tell me to come on in. I see movement in her bathroom as I make my way to her. Before I get halfway there, she steps out, and I stop mid-step. As she’s adjusting her necklace, she sees me and smiles from ear to ear.
“Hey, look at you. You look handsome all dressed up,” she says as she stalks over to me. “Emily. You. My God. You literally are just the most exquisite beauty I’ve ever seen.” She shyly slaps my arm before walking over to grab her heels from beside the bed.
Her floor-length black sequined strapless gown shows off all her incredible curves. Her long blonde hair is pulled to the side in a messy braid, and her makeup does nothing to hide just how gorgeous she is, and although I know for a fact it doesn’t fit with her attire, she’s still wearing the necklace I gave her almost four months ago. I love her for always being true to herself. She could have easily removed my necklace and worn something more refined, but she didn’t.
Stepping into her heels, she peers up at me, as I stand there with my hands in my front pockets, admiring everything I have in front of me. She is my everything. She is my forever. Slowly making my way over to her, I stand in front of her while she gazes at me, shaking her head slightly unsure of my intentions.
“What?” she asks. “Jeremy, what is it?” Trepidation clouds her eyes.
“You know I love you with all my heart?” Reaching up to slide my fingers under the chain of her necklace, I continue, “You have made me so happy these last few months, and I know I should wait for Christmas to give you this, but I can’t.” Slowly sliding my hand from my pocket, I hold the little black box in my palm before turning it to her, waiting for the sound of the click before pulling it open to her curious eyes.
“Jeremy, it’s gorgeous,” she says, running her fingers over the stones. After removing it from the box, I take the infinity shaped diamond bracelet into my fingers. She covers her hand over her other necklace. “But, I don’t want to take this one off.”
“Babe, you can wear this again after tonight, but on special occasions, like tonight when you look amazing, I want you to wear this.” Pouting, but nodding in approval, she removes my hockey pendant and places it onto her bureau. “One other thing, Mom wants a picture. Dad thought hell froze over when he saw the suit before I left. So, I told them I’d send them a picture when I got here.” I pull my phone from my pocket, holding it at arms’ length to take a picture of the two of us with cheesy grins on our faces, and then send it off to my parents’ email.
“Ready?” she asks.
“As I’ll ever be, any advice before we head in there?”
“Yeah, avoid my parents at all costs. If you get separated from me at any time, just find Louisa in the kitchen or a quiet room and wait for me to find you. There are a lot of Daddy’s clients here who invest a lot of money, so even I’m afraid to talk to half of them.”
“Seriously, should I have taken Special Forces training before coming here tonight? You did say ‘party’, correct?” I ask as I rub my hand over the back of my neck.
“You’ll do fine. Just don’t body check or punch anyone,” Emily jokes.
“Hey! See, you are picking up some of my hockey terms. I’m impressed.”
A few moments later, we walk into the foyer of her parents’ house. Everything looks warm and inviting, including the twenty-foot Christmas tree, which is most likely showcasing empty boxes wrapped with pretty bows underneath. They even have tags on them that read “Emily,” “Victoria,” and “Charles.” How sweet. People stir about, some chatting quietly while others carry silver platters of hors d’oeuvres. A string quartet is playing Christmas songs at the base of the long staircase. Everything seems as though a loving family carries on under this roof. Well, looks can be deceiving.
Emily squeezes my arm, breaking my concentration on the rest of the house. Glancing down at her, I notice she isn’t staring at me, but rather straight ahead. I turn my head in that direction to see what’s caught her attention. “Showtime,” I say softly.
Coming straight for us are the two people I was warned to stay away from. My stance goes rigid, and Emily notices immediately as she tilts her head toward me, whispering, “Stay calm, please.”
As soon as I nod in agreement, her mom is standing less than a foot in front of her. “Emily, dear.” Victoria leans in to air kiss both sides of Emily’s cheeks. “You look…well, you look decent. I’m not so sure what is going on with your hair, but you really should have had it properly done up. I see you brought your friend again. How lovely.” Victoria turns to speak to me, leaning in to speak quieter. “If you think for one minute about trying to steal anything, I’ll have the police called immediately.”
“Mother! Don’t be rude,” Emily scolds just above a whisper.
“Babe, it’s fine. I realize I’m not exactly what the front page of the tabloids would consider newsworthy, but I’m pretty sure she could spin it to somehow play into the favor of the Cameron family. Isn’t that right, Mrs. Cameron?” I flash a cold smile at her.
Moments later, Emily’s father, Charles returns to Victoria’s side, eyeing me suspiciously as he escorts her toward a back room. I breathe a sigh of relief that they are gone for now. Emily turns to look at me once they are out of earshot. “I need a drink. Follow me.” I follow her toward a back kitchen area where I notice Louisa pulling trays from the oven. “Hi, Louisa. Merry Christmas,” Emily greets her.
“Merry Christmas, sweetie. What are you doing back here?” Louisa asks as she scoops mini quiches onto a serving platter.
“Just looking for something to drink,” Emily states as she opens the fridge door, swiping a Hibernation Ale beer and a bottle of Chardonnay. Handing me the beer, she takes the bottle opener from the side of the fridge for me to pop off the cap. Once she opens the bottle of wine, she opens a cabinet and brings out a wine glass and pint glass. Handing me the pint glass, I pour my beer into it. She does the same for her wine before taking a long sip that results in the whole glass emptying out. Damn.
“Emily, please tell me you are going to eat something before the night is over, because if you plan on drinking like that for the next few hours, I’m going to have my hands full.”
She smiles deviously at me as she pours another glass of wine. “Don’t worry about me. In an hour, half of these people won’t even know we exist.”
We make our way back into the foyer, and the party appears to be in full swing. People are dancing to the festive music, and everyone seems jovial. A few people stop to talk to Emily about the National Championship coming up in a few weeks, and should she win gold, they make plans to sponsor her before she heads to the Olympics in February. It still comes as a shock to me that my girlfriend could be an Olympia
n in another month. How would that not be a dream come true for her? I totally understand her parents putting the pressure on her to win, win, win, but a part of her has to have some desire to go to the Olympics for herself.
Emily breaks my train of thought when she motions to me that she’s heading to the restroom. Walking down the hallway from where we just came, I admire photos of Emily skating as a little girl. Plainly, these are here simply for bragging rights or a selling tactic.
Someone moves up next to me. Turning, I come face-to-face with Emily’s father. “Sir. Lovely party you have here tonight.”
“Son, if you would, please come into my office. I’d like to have a word with you in private.”
“Certainly,” I say, following his lead, but not knowing what he could possibly want to talk to me about.
Moving to stand behind his desk, he reaches into his desk drawer, removing a leather bound folder. “Listen, Son. I don’t know what you want with my daughter, but I can tell you whatever it is, you won’t get it from her. Her mind needs to focus one hundred percent on her skating career. Since you’ve come into the picture, she’s been flippant with her mother and distracted to points where she blows off training. I hope you understand what I’m asking of you here. If you cannot leave her alone willingly, I think there are other ways we can work out a deal.” He slowly reaches for a pen in his drawer and opens the folder to reveal a checkbook. Seriously, he’s going to try to buy me off in order to get rid of me. “So, how much will it take for you to leave my daughter alone? 40? 50? 75? Name your price.”
“Mr. Cameron, I understand you think I’m a worthless piece of trash, but I’ve loved Emily for a very long time. She’s the most genuine, loving, forgiving woman I’ve ever met. She doesn’t judge people for their status or self-worth. When you threw her to the tabloids to cover your family scandal, she came to my family for help. Not you or your wife. My family was willing to help and listen. No amount of money will ever constitute leaving her, so you might as well put your checkbook away, asshole,” I say as I try to calm my clenched hands and not start a yelling or punching match.