Only With You

by Gray, Cecilia

  "Yeah, thanks," Knight interrupted as he accepted his wallet and shoved it in his back pocket.

  Emma ducked her head through the passenger-side window of the front town car to speak to the driver. "Can you bring in their bags? Thank you!" She turned back to her guests and clasped her hands. "I'm going to take Anne inside to freshen up. You boys are in the pool house. Need directions?"

  "What do you mean we're in the pool house?" Josh asked.

  "For the weekend," Emma explained.

  "The whole weekend?" Anne tilted her head. "Emma?"

  "Don't worry about toiletries and clothes. I've had some brought it. Only the best for you guys."

  Emma kept her bright, welcoming smile as her three guests exchanged confused glances. Emma was used to knowing things before anyone else, so it was no chore to wait for them to catch up.

  Josh, it seemed, was the first. "Same old Emma," he said as he stretched his arm to rest it across Anne's shoulders. "Life or death, whatever. I would never turn down an invitation for southern California sun. Nothing like it, right, Anne?" He tilted his head toward the sky and closed his eyes.

  "Um, I guess." Anne squinted at him a moment then glanced back at Emma. "So everything really is okay?"

  "With you guys by my side, everything is going to be perfect," Emma assured her.

  It was only then that Anne also let her head tilt up, and her pinched features were soothed away by the sun's rays.

  Emma nearly clapped with giddiness despite Knight's continued suspicious glare. Anne and Josh were two peas in a sun-drenched pod. Everything was going to work out just as she'd imagined.

  Maybe she wasn't top of her class or leading a charge to the White House or a future Olympian or budding actress like some of her friends. Maybe she wasn't a famous humanitarian like her mother. But she would have done something good and right in the world. There would be no disputing that.

  * * *

  Emma ushered Anne upstairs, although she could do little to stave her questions.

  "Emma, what's going on? The girls are texting like crazy, asking what's up, too. What's the emergency? Is it your mom and dad?"

  Emma brushed aside her concerns with, "I'll tell you all about it at dinner." Once upstairs, instead of veering right toward her bedroom, which spanned half the floor from the front to the back of the house, she pulled Anne to the left, toward the guest bedroom that also overlooked the pool. While it was smaller than the front bedroom, it was connected to Emma's bedroom by the outdoor balcony that conveniently wrapped around the entire back of the house. The balcony looked over the bluff to the Pacific Ocean and all the way down the coast. On a clear day, which was nearly every day, Emma could see all the way to Mexico. But the real point of putting Anne in this room, instead of one of the larger bedrooms on the first floor, was for the other view from the balcony: of the kidney-shaped pool below and the pool house where Emma was certain Josh intended to put in some suntanning time.

  Details. Emma was always considering them.

  Emma realized Anne had gone quiet as they entered the bedroom. Her friend's gaze traced the polished hardwood floor, the blue-and-white naval striped wallpaper with white trim wainscoting, the intricate ceiling molding.

  "Do you hate it?" Emma asked. View be damned, she didn't want her friend to feel uncomfortable. "We have three bedrooms downstairs—"

  "No, don't be nuts." Anne shook her hands. "It's beautiful here. It reminds me of my parents' beach house." She wrung her hands. "You remember we had a bonfire there?"

  "S'mores on the beach. Of course I remember. I thought I was losing my roommate, and I didn't want the sun to come up. I remember thinking, if we just held on a little longer, if I just didn't fall asleep, that maybe we could make the night last forever." Emma giggled. "I wasn't even drunk! I just wanted it so much. We should go back, you know. Now that things are happier."

  Anne's mouth twisted downward. "My mom sold it few weeks ago."

  "Oh, Anne, I’m so—"

  "We never went very much anyway." Anne smoothed her hands over the nautical bedspread.

  Had Emma been speaking to another one of the girls she might have thrown her arms around her or told her everything would be okay, but as much as she liked Anne, as much as she considered Anne one of her best friends, there was still a distance between them. Between Anne and all of the other girls. Anne was there for them, she supported them, but she didn't seem open to the idea of them supporting her.

  Anne smiled, crinkles at her brown eyes. "So it's just the five of us for the weekend?"

  "I had no idea about Rick. I never would have invited him. You know that, don't you? It was Knight."

  Anne shrugged and sat on the ivory tufted ottoman at the foot of the bed. "You need us. So we're here. It's okay, really."

  Emma winced. It wasn't like she couldn't use her friends' help. She intended to put their presence to very good use. If only Anne would whine or complain a little, maybe Emma would be able to more readily absolve herself of guilt. But Anne was not the type to whine or complain, and the less she complained the more hopeless her situation probably was. Which made Emma feel even worse about deceiving her to get her down here—even if her end game would make Anne happy. "We don't even need Rick. I'll send him back to the Academy."

  Now it was Anne who winced. "He's already here. It would be weird if you told him to go home."

  "You're right. That would make it worse. They're shacking up in the pool house right outside that window, too. Is that too weird? I can move you to another bedroom." Emma gestured her toward the white-framed French doors leading to the balcony.

  Anne stood and crossed over, stepping outside as a cool, ocean breeze tangled Emma's sundress and curls. They looked down to see the boys walking the pool perimeter. Knight and Rick playfully shoved each other. They weaved out of each other's grasps until Rick grabbed Knight around the waist and launched him at the water.

  "Not with the shoes—" Emma rolled her eyes as Knight split the water with a splash.

  Josh clapped as Knight resurfaced, spitting. Emma admired how his gray tee clung to his shoulders. Water ran in rivulets down his face. Despite the look of murder in his eyes, he was utterly and adorably harmless.

  Knight apparently begged to differ. "You're a dead man, Rick."

  "I'd like to see you try. Here, give it your best shot." Rick kicked off his shoes and dove in after Knight. When his head popped back out of the water, Knight seemed to reconsider trying to wrestle his larger friend. Knight might have a six-pack, but Rick, with his military school training, had abs—and fight skills—to spare. Knight paddled backward.

  Josh reached his hand out to Rick from the edge of the pool to help him up. "Know when to quit."

  Rick reached up and yanked Josh into the pool. He went in swearing the whole way with an ungraceful belly flop. When he surfaced, he met Knight's eyes. "Rick isn't strong enough against both of us."

  "Give it a try," Rick said.

  Emma watched the scene with growing interest. While she was well aware of Josh's playful nature and Knight's own proclivity toward fun, Rick had always been more of an enigma. Quiet. Stoic. Standoffish. This was a new side to him. An unfortunately attractive side that might confuse Anne's feelings.

  Anne leaned her elbows on the balcony and rested her chin on her fist. She grinned as Rick managed to wrap his forearm around Josh and hold him underwater as he palmed Knight's face and shoved him away. A wistful sigh passed her lips. "They make it seem so easy."

  "Drowning?"

  "Not worrying all the time about everything."

  "That's because they leave it to us girls to clean up all their messes." Heartbreak included.

  Anne pushed away and walked the length of the balcony as it wrapped around the side of the house to overlook the torrential ocean. Waves crashed and pulled against the sandy beach and swirled angrily around the jutting rocks at its edges.

  "Ellie would love it here, wouldn't she? It's dangerous to surf here, bu
t see out there?" Emma pointed a half mile down the beach where the sun was just casting orange shadows on the watery horizon. "That's prime surfer territory."

  "She's been in Guatemala all spring break, hasn't she?"

  "Catching up with her parents," Emma said with a nod. Ellie was her roommate and her favorite person at the Academy, but she was also the friend who seemed to need her the least now that she had her boyfriend and her scholarship and had stood up to her parents. Even though Emma felt responsible for helping Ellie with those changes, it wasn't as if she could keep clinging to them in a bid to keep Ellie close. "She sent pictures of her baby sister. I practically wanted to cuddle with my telephone she was so cute."

  "Will you forward them to me?" Anne asked.

  "Of course!"

  "You must miss her," Anne said. "I know that without Lizzie around, my room's been so quiet."

  Emma resisted the catch in her throat. Ellie had never been particularly noisy, but Anne was right. It had felt eerily quiet without her roommate, even a roommate who had never spoken very much. It was in other ways that she was loud. The scratch of her pen when she was scribbling out a particularly difficult math problem. The rhythmic swish of her turning textbook pages. How she hummed to herself when she did yoga poses. All evidence of a comfortable routine they had fallen into, puzzle pieces you didn't realize matched until the very end. "I miss her and Lizzie. But it's never just you and me. This is kind of nice."

  When Emma looked at Anne, she saw herself. Granted, not a cute, perky blonde but a cautionary tale of what could have happened to Emma if she hadn't been so lucky.

  Both she and Anne came from money. Both she and Anne had loving family and the best education. Both she and Anne were smart. But Anne's fortune had recently stumbled.

  Helping Anne was like helping herself. Anne needed a break. And she needed to get over Rick. Who better to make Anne forget Rick than Josh? Who better to make fantasy a reality than Emma Greene?

  "Ladies!"

  Emma glanced down toward Knight's voice and walked back into the view of the pool. All three guys were still in the water, soaking wet, and grinning like idiots.

  "You joining us?" Knight asked.

  Emma glanced over at Anne, who was wringing her hands together. While Emma's instincts told her she wanted to jump into a pool with three hot guys, she could see Anne wasn't ready.

  "Can't," she called down. "This hair is too cute to get wet."

  "Aww, come on," Josh said. "If anyone can make wet look good, it's you!"

  She ignored their begging and led Anne back inside. Anne's tote bag had been discreetly left on the ottoman by the foot of the bed. Peeking up from the bag was the unmistakable soft, downy, pink ear of a stuffed animal.

  "What's this?" Emma asked. She reached for the bag, but Anne moved to step in front of her. Emma snatched her hand back. "Sorry, I didn't mean to pry."

  "It's nothing," Anne said. She closed her eyes as if counting to three then reached into the bag and plucked out a soft, pink, floppy bunny. "Forget it—here. It's stupid."

  "Oh, I've seen this before on your bed. I didn't realize you brought it everywhere."

  "Not everywhere." Anne held the bunny against her waist, her arm wrapped around it like a belt. Its floopy feet tucked up nearly toward its ears. The bunny had seen better days. Tufts of cotton peeked out from loose stitches on his wide feet and at his rounded butt. A few Band-Aids stuck to its belly, and there was one by the shiny black bead of its right eye.

  "It's from Rick, isn't it?" Emma asked.

  "How did you know?"

  "I know everything." Emma quirked her lip. "Just the way you're holding it. It's obviously a gift. Not worn enough to be from when you were a kid. Just a few years old. So…from him, right?" A terrible question popped into Emma's mind. "Do you still love him?"

  Anne clutched the doll, her brown eyes as wide and round as her bunny's.

  "I realize I've never asked." Emma sat on the edge of the bed. "I've always assumed you wanted to get over him and move on. But maybe you still love him."

  "Rick? Love? No, no, of course not. That was ages ago. I wish people would forget about it. I know I want to. I'm sure he's embarrassed by it, too."

  "You know the best thing we can do to make it seem like you're over him? We can run downstairs and jump into that pool."

  Anne strangled her bunny a little more.

  "Trust me. It'll show Rick that it's no big deal he's here." She pulled the bunny out of Anne's hands and dropped it on the bed.

  "It'll seem obvious," Anne said. "Or worse, desperate. He'll know. They'll all know."

  "Anne, stop. Deep breath." Emma clasped Anne's hands. "Forget Rick. Forget Knight. Forget Josh. It's just you and me. You're here to have fun. I just asked you to jump into the pool with me." Emma dipped her head to force Anne to meet her eyes. "Wouldn't you do it?"

  Anne's expression slowly changed from contemplation to courage. "Yes. I would."

  "Then let's go." Emma tugged Anne along before she could change her mind. They flew downstairs and out the doors to the pool. Rick had managed to get both Knight and Josh underwater, but when he saw the girls coming toward the pool he must have loosened his grip because both boys surfaced with a gasp.

  "Cannonball!" Emma ran toward the pool, yanking Anne with her.

  They leaped over the edge. Emma tucked her legs beneath her, hands raised above her head, fisted. She let out a cry as she plunged under the icy water. As she rose back up, she sputtered. Anne surfaced a moment later, running her hands through her dark, wet hair that plastered itself to the sides of her face.

  Emma kicked to stay afloat. Her sundress swished in the water around her knees. Despite the crisp water lapping at her neck, the sun warmed her face. Droplets of water clung to her drenched bun and dripped off her eyelashes.

  Josh splashed a wave of water into her face, and she squealed, splashing back. He turned his attentions to Anne then, who was receiving a similar water beating from Rick.

  Her first instinct was to pull Rick underwater and away from Anne. But she decided not to worry about it for the moment. If Anne felt comfortable with Rick, then she'd more likely allow herself to fall for Josh. Instead of Rick's presence being a tragedy, she could turn him into an asset. That was just the kind of positive thinking Emma Greene was famous for.

  Emma spun in the water toward Knight, who had snuck up behind her. He rested his hands at her waist where her dress, soaked, clung to her skin.

  "Don't get too cocky," Knight said softly in her ear. A shiver ran down her neck. Knight's grip around her waist tightened. She felt him start to yank her under, but Emma, always one step ahead, twisted and swam away, grinning.

  * * *

  Steam rose off the buttery mashed potatoes. Crisp green beans sizzled in their cast iron serving dishes. The roasted chicken, perfectly browned, hissed with flavor. Emma breathed in the savory, salty scents and tapped the tips of her fingers together with satisfaction. She glanced at the silver serving tray of lemonade in sparkling flutes.

  "Is this ready to go?" Knight asked.

  "Not yet." She dug through the pantry until she found a tin of lemon sugar and rimmed each glass with sugary crystals.

  "There's this food. Maybe you've heard of it," Knight said. "It's pizza. It comes when you call. Like magic."

  "Oh, sure, pizza. Because nothing sets the stage for romance like droopy paper plates and globs of cheese."

  Knight went completely still. "What does romance have to do with anything?"

  "Nothing, nothing," she mumbled. "Are you saying you'd rather eat a greasy, gross pizza than this?"

  "I was hoping for a decent pizza in my scenario." Knight dipped his finger into center of the bowl of mashed potatoes and, at the strangled expression on her face, plopped a dollop into his mouth. "You're right. This is more delicious."

  Emma grabbed a silver-plated serving spoon and swirled it into the bowl, easing out the hole he'd made. "If it's so good then what are y
ou complaining about?"

  "This dinner feels manufactured. Catering? Flower arrangements?"

  "Having standards, you mean? Anne has had a very difficult year. I want her to have a fabulous weekend."

  Knight squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed the space above his nose with his thumb and forefinger. When he dropped his hand, his dark eyes pinned her hard. "Think about how all this is going to make Anne feel. Her family just went broke. They had to sell the school, her home. She's probably going to lose more before the year is over. This…" He waved his hand over the kitchen and jabbed his finger at the crystal chandelier overhead. "This isn't the life she has anymore. You're just going to bum her out by reminding her of that. You can't go tossing money at her problems thinking you can fix them."

  Emma glanced down at the granite countertop and drew her finger in heart shapes against the cool, hard surface. "Anne's my friend, remember. My friend." She met his eyes. "I do think about what she's been through. I do worry about her. This weekend is not just about fancy meals and flower arrangements. It's about making Anne happy again, and making sure she'll be happy from now on."

  "I thought this weekend was about your 9-1-1 call."

  "Yes, well." Emma picked up the serving tray of lemonade and held it out to Knight. "I'm a multitasker, aren't I?"

  Knight ran a hand through his hair so his brown locks stood up on the ends. He took the tray with a warning look. "Be careful, Emma. You might think you're doing what Anne wants, but somehow everything seems to be about what you want instead."

  * * *

  The Greene's formal dining room seated thirty, so Emma opted to serve dinner in the less formal blue salon. Its bright robin's-egg blue walls were the perfect backdrop for the white-framed photographs of her family.

  Gail and Gary Greene dining with the governor after her mother's work to restore Southern California parks following the big quake.

  Gail and Gary Greene on the red carpet at the Academy Awards. (They'd helped finance a documentary on war crimes that had won its category that night.)