by Laura Carter
“Well, thanks, Doctor Jessica, for that insight.”
She smiles at me over her coffee cup. That sweet smile she doesn’t often give. It’s different from her playful smile, which is wide and open mouthed. It’s different from her fake smile, which is even wider but tight-lipped. This one, it stretches her lips but mostly shows in her eyes. Her eyelids widen a touch and her irises seem to sparkle like chocolate diamonds. When we first met, she hardly ever smiled. I still feel like each one is a prize, despite getting them often these days.
“So, what’s the plan of attack when we get to the Hamptons?”
“Plan of attack?”
“Yes. I mean, are we trying to avoid Emily? Are we trying to rekindle a friendship with Emily? Are we like, Hey, Em, I know it’s been three years but let’s fuck?”
“What was that voice? Was that supposed to be an impression of me or Terminator?”
She laughs. “It was you and stop avoiding the question.”
The plan of attack. What is my plan of attack? How do I want this to pan out?
I have no idea.
“Are you two okay? Can I get you anything else?”
“Just the check,” I say, saved by the bell, or waitress.
I’m still thinking about the plan as I pay the bill, as we board the plane and as we soar into the clouds. Maybe all I want is to come away from this week unscathed. Without having made a fool of myself, without having tried to rekindle something that never was between Emily and me, without being hurt. Maybe all I need to do is avoid her. Focus on my friends and family. Be civil if I see her.
The problem is, I miss her. There. Happy? I’ve said it. I’ve admitted it. I miss the girl I grew up with and the girl who broke my heart.
“Hey, what are you thinking?” Jess asks from the seat next to me. We have a row of three to ourselves yet we’ve decided to sit next to each other anyway. Jess in the window, me in the middle.
She’s looking at me through concerned eyes. Her legs are tucked up on the seat, her arms wrapped around her knees. That she’s small enough to do that, get comfortable in economy on an airplane, makes me a bit envious. My long legs are trying to stretch out under the seat in front but my knees are touching the pouch that holds the airsick bag.
“Nothing, babe. I’m wondering which movie to watch.”
She narrows her eyes in a way that says, ‘I’m letting this one go but you’re not fooling me, dude.’ She springs forward excitedly. “I know. We should pick a movie we both want to watch and start it at the exact same moment. Then we can watch together.”
She starts to navigate the TV touchscreen.
I have to smile. “Anyone would think you’re thirteen, not thirty,” I tell her.
“Be quiet. It will be fun. Come on, what do you want to watch?”
After a lot of scrolling and bickering, we settle on Fences, with Denzel Washington. Such a good actor! About that, Jess and I agree emphatically.
We both sit upright, braced to hit Play. Yeah, I kind of got into the idea eventually. I count us in. “On three. Ready? One. Two. Three.”
For some reason, we find it hilarious when we hit Play and start our movies at the same time. I lift the arm rests either side of me, knowing from the three short breaks we’ve taken together—skiing in France with friends last year; Barcelona just the two of us because we both wanted to visit; Chicago, when she came along for the ride on one of my work trips—that she’ll want to put her feet over me.
Sure enough, as soon as I have given her the green light, those dreadful lounge pants are across my legs and her feet are resting in the spare seat. Out of habit, I rub her legs as we watch the movie together.
As much as I enjoy Fences, it isn’t enough to stop my mind wandering to Emily. To the sweet blonde I always looked out for. Who was by my side almost every day from age one year to twenty-four, whether I wanted her there are not. Annoying, beautiful, funny, sweet Emily.
That’s why I find it hard to reconcile those memories with the last time I saw her. She was on her back, screaming, her legs wrapped around the guy I thought was my buddy as he nailed her.
How could they have done that to me?
“Would you like chicken casserole or spinach pasta?”
I raise my head to the air steward and his big grin. “Two chicken for us, thanks.”
As I answer, Jess sits up and lets down both our food tables. The steward passes our food and sets about getting us each a small bottle of red wine. As he moves on, I put my chocolate mousse brownie dessert on Jess’s tray. She puts her bread roll and cream cheese on mine. I’m not a huge dessert guy and she thinks uncooked cheese leaves the taste of cow leather in her mouth. What can I say to that?
We eat in silence, watching the movie. The only thing Jess says is, “She is breaking my heart. I’m going to start weeping into my chicken here.”
She’s such a softie. For all her brassy exterior and the loud clothes, she’s got a huge, mushy heart. And believe me when I say, it is always in the right place. She’s honestly the best person I know. She’s not too nice—you know, the sickening kind of nice—but if she likes a person, she’ll do everything and anything for them. I know how hard her life has been, and God, I wish she’d never been dealt a shitty hand, or that I could have been there for her. But if her past has made her who she is today—wise, funny, empathetic—at least something good came of it.
“I’m stuffed to nuts,” she says, setting her empty wineglass down on her food tray.
“I don’t get that. I mean, how stuffed are nuts?”
“Must you call me on every expression I use?”
“No, I’m simply point out that it doesn’t make sense. Why would you say something that doesn’t make sense?”
She turns her lips to a pout and reaches out to my face, squeezing my cheeks between her fingers until my lips press together and I imagine I look like a fish. “Is this a good look for me?” I ask.
“Mmm, you’re like a two.”
We’re both laughing as our food trays are cleared. Jess leans her head against my shoulder and starts watching Fences on my screen. A perk of having pressed Play at the same time.
I rest my cheek against her head and breathe in her familiar scent—a sweetness I can’t describe, except to say, if I could bottle it, I would call it Just Jess.
We sit this way to the end of the movie and watch two more before we land. JFK runs smoothly, and we end up sitting in the car Drew has arranged for us right on time.
“I’m so excited to be in New York,” Jess says, looking out of the window like a kid—wide-eyed, jaw loose. “Considering all the places I’ve been, it’s kind of crazy that I haven’t been to New York.” As I watch her, a sense of calm settles over me. I’m home. With Jess. Putting aside the reason I’ve dragged her along with me, life is A-okay at the moment.
After an hour of making small talk with the driver, while Jess has had her nose almost pinned to the window, we’re well on our way to the Hamptons. I’ve spoken to Drew to let him know we’ll be on time for dinner. I’m looking forward to seeing his new place. I’m proud of him. We came from not much at all and now he’s a named partner in a law firm, Statham Harrington, he has a great girl—she’s a Brit but we won’t count that against her—and now he has a pad in the goddamn Hamptons.
I realize I’m wearing a happy-goofy look when I notice Jess smiling at me. “Are you excited to see Drew?”
“All of them.”
“Okay, remind me. Drew. Obviously, your brother. And he’s with Becky, who I’ve spoken to on Skype. He’s a lawyer, she’s a patisserie chef. Then there’s…?”
“Brooks. He’s been Drew’s best friend since they were kids. By default, he’s one of my best friends. He owns Brooks Adams gym, which is huge in the city. He’s together with Izzy Coulthard, the girl from Chelsea. She’s a dancer, musician type.�
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“Got it.”
“Then there’s Kit and Madge. Husband and wife. They have two kids, although I’ve no idea whether they’ll be there. Kit roomed with Drew in college and Madge got with Kit around that time. I think Edmond and his wife Amelie are going to try to make it at some point.”
“Edmond, as in the celebrity chef who owns the restaurant Becky works in?”
“Exactly. And Marty, who is the Statham half of my brother’s firm. They were both associates at the firm and at some point stopped competing against each other long enough to become good buddies and take over the firm together. Last, but definitely not least, is Sarah. Technically, she’s Drew’s legal secretary but I’ve only ever known her as an awesome woman and friend.”
“Drew and Becky. Brooks and Izzy. Edmond and Amelie. Kit and Madge. Marty and Sarah.”
“Yes, but not Marty and Sarah as in salt and pepper. Those two are single.”
She furrows her brow. “Who’s to say salt and pepper aren’t single?”
I lean my head back and roll my eyes. “Ah, remind me why I’m spending a week with you?”
“Because you love me and because I’m saving your arse.”
Chapter 6
Jake
The sun is starting to set as we pull up to my brother’s new place. When I go to pay the driver, he tells me Drew has already settled the fare. He’s always doing stuff like that. His old habit of never letting me pay my way will die hard.
I help the driver unload our luggage and stand beside Jess on the quiet street, staring at the enormous white house in front of us.
“Is your brother royalty or something?” Jess asks.
“Yes. And I’m a prince.”
She glances to me. “Now I know you’re lying.”
There are four houses on the street, all facing the ocean. All big seaside properties. The gardens are pristine. Even the trees have been perfectly shaped. The grass is lush green.
Before I can say to Jess, “Let’s head inside,” the door opens and a tall brunette bounds, barefoot onto the porch. “Jakey!”
Sarah runs down the pathway and crashes into me, squeezing me tight.
“You must be Jess. It’s great to meet you. Jake talks about you whenever I speak with him.”
That’s one of those statements that would be awkward if Jess were a new girlfriend and I was playing it cool. But she isn’t. And I do talk about her all the time because she’s a big part of my life.
“Jess, meet Sarah. Sarah, Jess.”
“I love those pants,” Sarah tells Jess, making me roll my eyes and Jess stick out her tongue in a ner-ner-ner-ner-ner fashion.
I mouth to her, Child. And she mouths back, Cock.
“Jake, my man!” Brooks heads toward us in dark jeans and a white T-shirt that shows his inked arms and ripped muscles. He pulls me into a man-hug and thumps my back, then kisses Jess on the cheek. I wait for Jess to fall apart, like she has a tendency to do around ripped guys, but she gets through the meet in good shape. And, yeah, I’m comfortable enough in my own manhood to admit Brooks is like a real life, inked and more muscular, version of McSteamy from Grey’s Anatomy. All women want him and men really do want to be him.
Brooks pulls the blonde—who I know is Izzy because I’ve seen her commercials for dance and fitness on TV—under his arm. “Guys, this is Izzy. She’s crazy and annoying as hell but you’ll come to love her.”
Izzy scowls, then laughs and gives Brooks an elbow to his ribs, which he deserves.
I lean in to kiss her cheek, then she starts practically singing something complimentary about those goddamn horrendous pants Jess is wearing. I take this as a good time to carry our luggage into the house.
Brooks helps me get everything inside, where Drew calls out. As I head in search of his voice, I take in the bright, clean feel of the place. The light wood floors, cream fur rugs, white walls and nautical things hanging on the walls, all scream money and beach. Fuck me, it’s nice with a capital N. As I look up to the high ceilings and the spiral wood staircase, I trip over my own feet, bursting forward into the kitchen.
“Yep, that’s my kid brother. Always big on the dramatic entrance.”
“Shut the fuck up,” I say, as I make quick strides into Drew’s arms—in a manly way, obviously.
“How’re you doing, kid?”
“Not as good as you,” I say, pulling back and gesturing around the open kitchen space. “Look at all this. And look at that hot chick you’ve bagged,” I say, clocking Becky as she comes toward me holding a glass of red wine. Her cheeks blush. She never can take a compliment. It’s sweet and endearing.
“Hi, Jake,” she says, letting me pull her into a hug. She’s the kind of woman I would think was lovely anyway, but that she makes my brother so clearly happy gives her more points than she can imagine in my book.
“I take it you had a hand in the décor here, Becky, because you’re the only exception to my brother’s lack of taste.”
She laughs as Drew throws a wine bottle cork at me, which I catch. The other women come into the kitchen; Sarah, Izzy and Jess already seem to be pals.
“Becky, we’ve got ourselves another Brit,” Izzy says, clapping her hands.
“We’re working on a large-scale British invasion,” Becky says, giving Jess a hug. “It’s nice to finally meet you in person.”
I watch the introductions for a minute, enjoying how happy Jess seems, forgetting why she’s here and just being damn pleased that she is. I love that it’s not awkward. There’s none of that feeling of introducing your girlfriend to your friends and family because it’s just Jess. Easy company. Kind, slightly nuts, Jess.
“Well, fuck me. I thought you two were just roommates.” I turn and come face-to-face with Drew. Brooks is standing by his side. They both have their arms folded across their chests as they watch me watching Jess.
I point to them both. “No. Shut the hell up with the mind trickery. Both of you. She’s here to stop me doing or saying anything stupid. That’s all.”
Brooks raises a brow and Drew tells him, “Emily is here. Her parents own the house next door.”
Brooks nods slowly and whistles. “Ouch.”
I give them a what-the-fuck-would-you-know look right before I’m saved by Kit and Madge coming into the kitchen.
“Hey, I thought I heard you, buddy.” After the obligatory introductions, Kit tells me, “We were upstairs singing the kids to sleep. Yeah, there’s no need to look at me like that. I know it sounds wacko but they can’t sleep without us singing the “Biggle Wiggle Bear” song.”
I can’t help but laugh. A couple of years ago, Kit and Madge wouldn’t have been caught dead singing about wiggly bears. “They’re here then, the kids?”
“Christ, no,” Madge says, retrieving a glass of wine from the large kitchen island. “This is much needed respite. We were singing to them through FaceTime.”
“Jess, what can I get you to drink?” Drew asks. “We’re grilling for dinner.”
“Oh, just a sec.” She heads over to her hand luggage and pulls out the two bottles of champagne we picked up in duty free. “Jake and I brought these, as a thank you.”
“I don’t think anyone will turn down champagne. Thanks, Jess. Why don’t you head outside and catch the sunset? I’ll fix you a drink.”
Actually, I fix the drinks as Jess wanders out to the deck. I hand everyone a glass of fizz from a bottle Drew already had chilling and, after being told there’s nothing I can do to prep food for the grill, I head out to her. She’s taken off her scarf, causing her sweater to fall off one shoulder. She’s taken down her hair, the long waves falling down her back. It blows in the sea breeze, making her look like a portrait as she watches the red-orange sun fall. I take a moment to just enjoy the view. The serenity of it. Her peacefulness. Her aunt and uncle would be proud. They travel th
e world searching for this kind of peace and the incredible woman they raised is the picture of it.
As if she senses me, she turns and I hand her a glass of champagne. “It’s beautiful out here.”
I clink her glass with mine and look out across the pool, to the beach and the gentle roll of the waves against the sand. “It really is.”
“I thought there was supposed to be a party?” I recognize Marty’s voice before I turn to see him, stowing his cell phone in the back pocket of his jeans. He was always my least favorite of the group but the way he runs his eyes all over Jess, he just fell to the bottom rung of the friendship ladder.
“Good to see you, Jake.”
“Yeah, you too.” Keep your eyes to yourself, though. “This is Jess.”
He winks at her. Like, actually winks, as an introduction. Who does that?
Brooks must sense my hackles standing on end because he gives me a look from behind Marty that says, “Don’t worry about him.”
“Would you two like me to show you to your room?” Becky asks, coming out to the deck.
I carry our bags as we follow her up the spiral staircase, along a whitewashed hallway, under a ceiling made of glass. The place is incredible.
Our room is last on the corridor. Becky holds the door open and we follow her inside, both noting the one double bed.
“The en suite is through there. We’re sorry about the double bed. It hadn’t occurred to me to furnish the rooms differently until about ten minutes ago.”
“Don’t worry at all,” Jess says. “Thank you for having us in your home.”
Becky blushes and tucks her hair behind her ear. “Well, it’s actually Drew’s place, not mine.”
“Becky, if you think for one second he’s not already thinking that what’s yours is yours and his is yours and all that, you’re very mistaken. I know my brother and I know he is one hundred percent, prime time, in love with you.”
She giggles but seems nervous. “Did you just quote Meg Ryan in Top Gun?”
“See, that’s why you can be my sister.”