“It’s cool,” Jemma lied with a shrug. “Like I said, we’re just friends.”
“Sure you are.” Carolina’s wink was followed by her braying laugh. “I wish I had a friend like Davis, then.”
“I’m leaving in a couple of weeks, give or take. We wouldn’t have time to be anything else to each other.”
“It don’t take weeks, honey. It only takes one night,” Carolina said.
“Trust me. There’s nothing going on between us.” Jemma wondered who she was trying to convince—herself or Carolina.
Later, Davis and the Latina server came back to the table with the first of their entrees. Her name was Rosa according to her gold plated nametag. Davis couldn’t stop stealing glances at Jemma, and neither of them could stop grinning. Rosa slammed down Jemma’s plate and left the table, mumbling something about checking on the rest of the food.
“You know,” Carolina said to Davis, “we were just talking about you.”
Davis stood still, his hand in mid-air after putting Carolina’s Cobb salad in front of her. He raised an eyebrow. “Oh really?”
Jemma could feel her ears burning and readied herself to do damage control in case Carolina said something outrageous—something she’d be completely capable of from what Jemma had seen.
“Yeah,” Carolina said. “It’s nice to be able to see old friends, huh?”
Davis looked at Jemma. He gave her what seemed to be a wistful look. “Yeah. It is.”
Jemma gave him a weak half-smile, turned her attention back to the table, and asked Emily Rose some mundane question about the wedding decorations—anything to get away from that look in his eyes. Next, conversation turned to the latest political scandal and Jemma was distracted for the moment by a debate with Michael over campaign finance reform. But when Davis was nearby, she was never distracted for long.
In fact, as her mind wandered to him yet again, he came up to the table with a water pitcher. She made sure their fingers brushed against each other as she handed him her water glass. She’d been thinking about him ever since he’d walked up to take their order. They couldn’t have forever, but did that mean they couldn’t have anything at all?
It was so hard not to give in to the idea of having the most amazing few days of her life. Maybe they could spend time together until she had to leave for Florida. But she was afraid that if she gave into that desire to be near him even for a little while, she’d never leave. And if she never left, she might never really move on. And if she didn’t do that, her biggest fear might come true—she might turn into Lynette.
Florida symbolized a new life for her. A second chance. Everything she’d worked so hard for wouldn’t be fully in place until she was there.
No, it was a bad idea. It was hard to think straight, though, with her eyes glued to his sky blue ones—the color of the sky on a cloudless day with no chance of rain.
***
Halfway to the community center, Jemma made a U-turn at the next light and headed back to the restaurant. She realized that was where she wanted to be, and it was stupid not to be there. What was she afraid of? Why not spend as much time with Davis as she could? If she never saw him again, did she want to always regret throwing away the chance to be with him at all? After all, nothing lasted forever. At least they’d both know when the end of this was coming. If Davis wanted her, she was going to let herself have him.
No matter what happened with Smooth, how tangled up and messy her emotions were, or anything else, she had to hold him again. Be held by him.
She threw back her head, laughing at herself. She didn’t care who saw or thought she’d lost her mind and shouldn’t have been on the road. She’d been about to give up what she might always look back on as the best, most spontaneous days of her life.
No overthinking it. No over-analyzing. No labeling it as wrong or right. She’d have plenty of time for that once she was in Florida. Carolina was right. She didn’t have to worry about relationships or complications or anything. Just Davis.
She hurried from the parking lot back inside the restaurant. Davis looked up from the counter where he’d been talking to the bleached blonde at the cash register. He smiled and Jemma smiled back, giving him a little wave. Her palms were sweaty and her heart beat so fast she thought it would start aching. Davis said something to the blonde, she nodded, and he walked over to her.
He leaned in close enough for her to smell the clean scent of his cologne over the grease. “What’s wrong? Why’d you come back?”
She fought the urge to grab and kiss him right there in the front of the restaurant. “For you. I came back for you,” Jemma said, wondering how he would take those words and wondering how she wanted him to take them.
He stared down at her, his light blue eyes unreadable.
“I—three weeks, Davis. Three weeks of you and me and not thinking about relationships or pain or anything serious. Three weeks.”
“Uh, c’mon,” Davis said, taking her hand. He pulled her to the back of the restaurant and into the break room. He pulled out a chair for her at the square table, its black vinyl top cracked. She sat. He pulled a chair up next to her. After sitting in it, he hunched over and stared at his hands.
“Davis?” Jemma shifted toward him.
He looked up at her and swallowed hard. “I’m not the fun, wild type anymore. I’m not going to give you some great adventure. I can’t.”
Jemma traced her finger along his jaw line. He let her for a moment and then pulled away. She leaned in closer. “I’m not looking for an adventure.”
Davis bit his lower lip and shook his head. “What are you looking for then?”
“Time. I just want time. That’s all.” She dropped her hands onto her lap. “With you.”
“You don’t even know how much I’ve wanted you here. All this time. And now . . .”
Jemma clasped her hands in her lap and looked down at the pastel paisley swirls on her dress. Her throat ached when she remembered those lonely days back when all she’d ever wanted was for him to say things like that.
He put his hand over hers, which she had resting against her thigh. “And now I don’t know what to say. To that. To what you want.”
She pulled her lower lip into her mouth, sucking on it a moment, before she continued. “I want to hold you and not feel like I’m falling apart. I want to be with you and not talk about forever or what we’re doing or not doing. Just you and none of the stuff that’s too hard to talk about.” Jemma put her arms around him and he sagged against her. She held him tighter and felt him shudder a little against her. “Davis?”
“You can’t avoid the stuff that’s hard to talk about. Even if you don’t talk about it.”
“We can try. We at least deserve a chance at a real goodbye. What we had—it deserves more than how it ended, even if what we had wasn’t much.”
He pulled back and cupped her chin with his hand. “It was always a lot to us.”
Jemma moved his hands to the sides of her face. “Please tell me I can have you this one last time.” She tried her hardest not to tremble although she felt a mixture of anxiety, desire, and pure adrenaline.
He pressed his face against her hands. “My brothers are coming here. And I don’t know how to feel about that.”
“You know the great thing about living in the moment? You don’t have to know how to feel about it. We can talk about it if you want. If you’re not ready, that’s fine, too. Right now, just let me hold you.”
He nodded against her shoulder. She ran her fingers through his raven black hair and let them rest at the base of his neck.
“My dad wrapped his car around a tree, driving drunk. Single car accident. At least he only killed himself. I think my brothers want to take the house from me.”
Jemma kissed his cheek and held him tighter.
“I took care of the evil old bastard until he died. You know what our relationship was like. Now they want to take the only thing he ever gave me worth anything.”
/> Jemma thought about what Davis had told her all those years before. How his brothers had left him there with their dad. First Cole had run away to college, then Ashby. Jemma rubbed her cheek against his.
“You could be right. Maybe we should just live in this moment.”
She pressed her face into his neck, not moving, not speaking. She concentrated on the rhythm of their breathing.
“You really do mean more than anything to me.” Davis murmured the words into her hair.
She pulled back from him. “Hey. You know what? I hope your shift is over soon. Because we’re going to be late if we don’t get out of here and get changed.” It was already close to four. They’d had a late lunch.
He smiled wryly and nodded. He reached over and kissed her cheek. That brief touch of his lips set her on fire the way no other kisses ever had. The way they always had. She remembered what she used to say about them: his kisses are like home.
She plastered a smile on her face and stood on shaky legs. He rose from his chair and stretched his arms over his head.
“Meet you at Emily Rose’s parents’ house? Seven-thirty?”
He rolled down the sleeves of his shirt, nodding. “I’ll be there. Am I supposed to wear a suit to this thing?”
“Nah. Just not jeans. Khakis or slacks and a nice shirt or something.”
“Jemma.”
She paused at the door to the break room, her hand still on the knob.
“I’m glad you came back for me.”
Jemma bit her lower lip. “Me, too.” Florida. Escape. She had the train ticket at Mary’s house. On the white dresser. Propped up against the mirror. One-way. Nothing was more important than that.
Jemma ran the thin, gold chain she wore around her neck back and forth through her thumb and index finger. “I’ll see you at seven-thirty.”
“I’ll be there.” Davis’s voice was soft. She didn’t dare turn to see the expression on his face that went with it.
Jemma meandered back to the car in a daze, her head filled with thoughts of Davis. She’d either made a huge mistake or the best decision she ever had. Either way, she wanted the next few hours to fly by so she could see him again.
***
“So that’s the reason, huh?” Rosa said.
Davis jumped, startled out of his thoughts about Jemma. She’d come outside to find him on his cigarette break. “Huh?”
“The reason you were so weird when I asked you what was happening between us that night. The reason you act all strange with me now. Jemma, that’s her name, right? She’s the reason.” Rosa’s jaw tightened.
He stubbed out his cigarette and watched the big rigs lumber across the parking lot that was behind the building that housed the restaurant and travel store. “Don’t, Rosa. Just let it go.”
“I just want to hear you say it,” she said, her voice wavering. “I walked in on you two. In the break room. I cracked the door, saw you there, and ran out when I saw . . . what I saw.” Her words were barely audible over the rumble of the diesel engines. Trucks were moving in and out of the parking lot.
Crap. Why did he have to make them cry? He didn’t know what to do when they cried. Maybe if he wasn’t such a bad person, it wouldn’t have happened so much. “I’m sorry. I know it sounds like something people just say in these situations, but you really can do so much better than me.”
“I know,” she said with a watery smile. She gave his shoulder a playful punch. They laughed. “I’m sorry. For crying. I feel so stupid.”
“Please don’t apologize for that. You’re making me feel worse.”
“Who is she? I’ve never seen her around before.”
He grabbed a couple of napkins from his pocket. He couldn’t remember why he’d stuffed them in there earlier, but they were clean. “Someone I knew in high school. We have a history.” He handed the napkins to Rosa.
She took them. “Thanks.”
“No problem.”
“She’s pretty.”
He smiled. “Yeah.”
Chapter 9
The Bradens held the rehearsal dinner in their backyard. Emily Rose’s mother seemed more excited than Emily Rose was. Mrs. Braden loved hosting things. There’d always seemed to be a large party in the Bradens’ backyard during the summers back when she was in high school.
Jemma stood back, observing Mrs. Braden’s handiwork and the guests. Dinner would start at eight and everyone was still mingling. Jemma had no desire to mingle. In a place like Derring, they’d want to know about her parents and her family and investigate her whole life story because they’d be convinced they had some connection to her. She didn’t even like to think about Lynette, let alone talk about her. What would she tell them? That her mom was a dead crack addict? Worse than that, what if they knew of Lynette? Derring was big enough so that not everyone knew everyone else’s business, but small enough that its residents thought they should know everything about everybody.
Mrs. Braden had done a great job with the yard, as usual. She should’ve had one of those home-decorating shows on cable. Paper lanterns of pastel pink, blue, and cream hung over the tables, casting a soft multi-colored glow onto white lace table cloths. The candles in the chrysanthemum-laden centerpieces cast a matching glow up to the lanterns through their glass, rose-tinted globes. She inhaled the scent of the magnolias and looked up at the large white flowers on the tree next to her.
Groups of people, mostly friends of the Bradens’ Jemma didn’t know, stood around, talking and laughing amongst themselves. A few had already taken seats. The few Fletchers present and their friends stuck together in a small group near the house. A very perturbed-looking Michael split his time between the Fletcher group and Emily Rose and her family.
Emily Rose made her way over and hugged Jemma hello. She looked the part in black pants and a sleeveless peach top, though it was a bit warm for silk. They talked for a few minutes and then off she went with Michael in tow.
Emily Rose, a lover of the spotlight, was in heaven. That weekend was what she’d always wanted in more ways than one. Jemma wished she could find more enthusiasm. Em being happy made her happy, but she knew she wasn’t showing it. From Smooth’s letter to whatever was happening with Davis, it took a lot of energy to keep her mind from wandering into dangerous territory. And when she noticed the smile on Em Rose’s face become a bit strained, and then Michael and Em Rose disappeared, she worried even more.
Jemma’s attention was caught by the sound of a laugh she hadn’t heard in six years—a sound she remembered perfectly. She looked across the yard and saw Wendell, his arm linked with that of a slender, attractive, brown-skinned woman. Not knowing if she should run up and give him a hug or wait and see if he would come to her, she watched as he and his date hugged Emily Rose. Emily Rose pointed Jemma out and said something to Wendell. Carolina stepped in front of her before she could see Wendell’s reaction.
“How you doin’, girl?” Carolina asked. She wore a tight navy blue skirt and an ivory blouse.
“Great.” Jemma forced a smile. “You, uh, having a great time?” She moved her eyes between Carolina and Wendell, who’d started toward her. He was intercepted by Mrs. Braden.
“Yeah,” Carolina said. Unfortunately, she followed Jemma’s eyes. “Ooh, Wendell. I hear you two have a history.” Carolina brayed a laugh.
Jemma’s jaw tightened. It wasn’t like that, but she didn’t owe Carolina an explanation and she didn’t feel like giving one.
“You have all these sexy guys falling all over you. What is your secret?” Carolina gestured to indicate that Jemma should share, as if there really was one.
Jemma tried to laugh off the comment. She glanced at Carolina’s newly manicured fingernails. “Your nails look great.” She winced, counting how many times she’d said that word. She glanced up. Wendell was now only a few feet away.
Carolina beamed and held out her hand, wiggling her fingers with their peach-colored nails. “Thanks. They match the dress. Oh, you haven’t see
n our dresses yet, have you? You will die when you see them tomorrow, okay? Em Rose has taste. But of course you know that. You’ve known her longer than I have,” Carolina said.
She nodded and smiled in all the right places.
Jemma had almost stopped paying attention to Carolina’s ramblings when she said, “Wendell!” She hugged him and Stephanie.
Jemma almost threw her arms around Wendell’s neck, but caught herself at the last minute and held her hand out for an awkward handshake. “Hi, Wendell. How’ve you been?” It felt odd to be so formal with someone who’d been one of her closest friends, but she was in foreign territory. A handshake felt like the least inappropriate gesture to make, and nothing she could think of seemed like a great idea.
“Jemma.” Wendell adjusted his black-framed glasses on his nose. The frames looked more expensive and stylish than the ones he’d worn in high school. He gave his head a small shake as if he was trying to pull himself together and put his hand on his date’s back. “This is my girlfriend, Stephanie. Stephanie, this is my . . . friend, Jemma.”
Stephanie gave Jemma a cool smile and extended her hand. “Funny. Wendell’s never mentioned you.”
Jemma shook her hand and smiled back. “Yeah. We haven’t talked in a while. We used to be friends.”
“I figured that much.” Stephanie moved closer to Wendell.
They all stood staring at each other for a moment. Stephanie kept giving Jemma sharp little once-overs. Not that Jemma could blame her. She’d probably be feeling the same way if she were in Stephanie’s situation. Stephanie didn’t have anything to worry about, but she obviously didn’t know that.
Carolina took Stephanie’s arm. “I haven’t seen you since Emily Rose’s birthday party. Come catch me up.”
“Right now?” She spoke to Carolina, but kept her eyes on Jemma.
“Yeah, why not?” Carolina said.
Wendell seemed to snap out of the trance next. “Yeah, baby. I’ll be over in a minute. Save us seats?” He kissed her cheek.
She kissed his lips and put a hand on one of his polo shirt covered biceps—he’d developed real biceps at some point over the past six years—and said, “Don’t be long.” She gave Jemma a final glance and then sauntered away with Carolina.
The Davis Years (Indigo) Page 6