Wendell said, “That was interesting.”
Jemma gave him a tentative smile. “Yeah, I guess it’s difficult to know what to say. We didn’t end on such good terms, huh?”
Wendell laughed. “Yeah, I guess storming out of the house when you were trying to say goodbye to Emily Rose and me wasn’t really the best move. But Em Rose helped me a lot after that. We talked about it once I calmed down enough. She told me—you know, what you said. To tell me goodbye and that you loved me. I held on to those words for years and tried to make them make everything hurt less.” Wendell picked a leaf from the magnolia tree and fiddled with it. “I want you to know I’m not angry anymore.”
“Wendell—”
“Hear me out, Jemma. I understand now. Seventeen was a while ago. You weren’t in love me the way I was with you. That’s nobody’s fault. I have Stephanie now. I’m happy and I want you to be happy, too. I also want us to be friends. Really be friends again.” His brown eyes seemed sincere when they landed on hers.
She smiled, relief making her feel feather-light. “I want that, too.”
“Good. Can you do me one favor?”
“What is it?”
“Please don’t disappear on me for six years again.”
She laughed. “I think I can manage that.”
“All right.” Wendell hugged her.
“That’s enough of that. Stephanie’s eyes could cut diamonds right now.”
He forced a laugh and hid a look from her that she had a feeling she wouldn’t have wanted to see anyway. “Aw, she’ll be fine.”
“I’m sure. She made a great catch. I’d be protective of you, too.”
They laughed. Wendell’s laughter was cut short and Jemma followed his gaze to find the reason for it.
Once she turned, she couldn’t stop the corners of her lips from lifting. Davis wore a light blue shirt with khakis. He walked up and wrapped his arms around her. She felt the heat of his touch through the thin fabric of her sundress.
“You look amazing tonight,” he murmured to her, kissing her cheek. She wanted to melt in his arms.
“Thanks,” she managed to say.
He pulled back a little and slipped his arm around her waist.
“Hi, Davis,” Wendell said.
“Oh, hey Wendell. How’s it going?” Davis asked.
“Pretty good. Uh, I’m going to grab my seat with Stephanie. I’ll talk to you two later,” Wendell said, talking and moving like a man making a getaway. They said goodbye to him. She felt too overwhelmed by Davis standing so close to concentrate on the things that needed to be done and said when it came to Wendell. The way he’d gone away was unsettling. His words and actions hadn’t matched during their brief conversation. She could feel the nagging under the surface, but she tucked it away. She was good at promising herself “tomorrow” and “later”.
Jemma sank into Davis’s side, thinking about how right being next to him felt. She was tempted to imagine that it could always be that way. Just being by Davis’s side no matter what. Forgetting all the scars Lynette and Bill had given them.
She listened to him chat and be social and charming and all the things she’d always adored about him. She was happy simply to be held close to him throughout the evening, barely aware of what was going on around her anymore.
Emily Rose came up to them right before everyone sat down to eat and whispered to Jemma, “Is it weird? Having Wendell here? I’m sorry, but I had to invite him. You understand, right?”
Jemma nodded. “He’s your friend. You should invite your friends to these things.” She gave Emily Rose a one-armed hug. “Of course you want Wendell here for this. He’s one of your closest friends.”
She smiled and gave Jemma a look that increased her feelings of guilt tenfold. “And you’re the other one.” She rolled her eyes and waved to Mrs. Braden, mouthing that she’d be there in a minute. “Mom needs me. We’ll talk some more after dinner, okay?”
Jemma nodded and watched Emily Rose hurry off.
“They really went all out for this thing, huh?” Davis whispered to her.
She grinned. “You could say that.” She loved the intimacy of Davis’s whisper. He could have been telling her the weather for the next day and it would have thrilled her.
Mrs. Braden stood and tapped a fork against her glass. “If I could have everyone’s attention, there are a few toasts in order tonight.”
Someone cackled from the far corner of the yard. “Toasts, huh? Does anybody mind if I go first?” Everyone turned at the sound of the newcomer’s voice. Emily Rose’s uninvited sister, Tara, stood by the fence that led into the backyard, tottering on high-heeled sandals and holding a large bottle of malt liquor. Her long blonde hair lay in limp tangles against her bare shoulders.
Surprised murmurs went up around the guest tables, especially from the Fletcher section.
Mrs. Braden flushed and she nearly dropped her glass. Mr. Braden caught it right before it fell from her hand. “Tara. What are you doing here?”
“Surprised to see me, Mother? I’m sure you are, too, my stuck-up sissy.”
“Tara—”
“What? Every since she started seeing Mister Perfect, I’ve become the hidden, horrible family secret.” Tara tottered a few steps closer and Jemma could see smudges on the straps of her white halter. Her long legs were now skinny and badly sunburned. Mascara buried lashes which framed red-rimmed eyes. Nothing like high school cheerleader Barbie Tara.
“Tara, you know that’s not what happened. We’re not the ones who threw you away. We barely see you since you moved to Hampton.” Mrs. Braden’s hands balled into fists. Mr. Braden attempted to calm her down, but she wasn’t having it.
“Right. She wants to pretend I never existed.” Tara glared at Emily Rose.
“Like you pretended I didn’t exist all the way through high school?” Emily Rose glared back.
Tara’s eyes fell on Davis. She laughed. “Even my ex-hubby’s been invited. But no invite for sis. Not to the stupid dinner. Not to the wedding. Nothing. How you been, Davis?”
“Hi, Tara,” Davis said. Jemma moved closer to him almost without thinking about it. He tightened his hold on her and she relaxed a little against his side.
“You’re here with . . . is that Jemma? What is she doing here? Where did you come from?”
“Tara, I don’t think this is the appropriate time and place for you to—”
“Oh, shut up, dear mother.” Tara sneered when she said the word dear. “I don’t care what you think anymore. You’re done ruining my life with your opinions.”
Emily Rose jumped up from the table. “You’re not going to ruin this for me. You’ve ruined everything my whole life and you are not going to ruin my wedding.” She stomped over to Tara. “Leave!”
“This is my parents’ house, Miss Piggy. I don’t have to leave, and I’m not going anywhere.”
Jemma winced at the nickname the always thin Tara had given the once heavier Emily Rose longer ago than Jemma could remember.
“If you want to stay here, I can’t stop you. But you get in the house because you’re not invited and you won’t ruin this.”
Tara put one hand on her hip, the other still holding the malt liquor bottle. “So I ruin everything, huh?”
“You’re a washed up, selfish bitch. An old, faded-out cheerleader who’s only good at one thing and it ain’t raising a kid.”
Tara slammed her fist into Emily Rose’s face and then stormed into the house. Mrs. Braden, Carolina, and Meg ran to Emily Rose’s side.
“If this bruises, I’ll kill her. The wedding is tomorrow,” Emily Rose screamed. She continued screaming as they helped her into the house.
Guests stood up and started milling around the tables, seeming uncertain about whether they should stay or go. Mr. Braden went to the Fletchers’ table and started talking with Mr. and Ms. Fletcher. Emily Rose’s father kept running a fist across his forehead and patting his pockets as if looking for his handkerchief, wh
ich he was always misplacing.
Davis touched Jemma’s arm. She turned to look at him.
“I’ll wait out by my car for you,” he said.
She nodded. “I’ll be there in a sec.”
Jemma watched Davis walk toward the front yard before she stood, intending to follow Emily Rose inside. Then she changed her mind mere feet away from the house. Emily Rose seemed to have enough support. She probably wouldn’t need Jemma. Besides, she didn’t have much of a desire to go into a house which contained Tara.
As Jemma walked past the kitchen door, Carolina came out of it and they almost ran into each other.
“Where are you going?” Carolina asked.
“Home,” Jemma said.
“What, right now?” Carolina raised her eyebrows and scrunched her lips into the facial expression equivalent of a question mark. “Emily Rose wants to know where you are. I told her I’d come out here and check.”
“Tell her I’ll see her tomorrow.” Jemma started to walk away.
“Oh. Really?”
“What does that mean? Why’d you say it like that?”
“Just seems kind of strange and selfish that you’d leave your best friend like this. Really, Jemma, you haven’t seemed like much of a best friend. I know I haven’t known you long, but—”
“You really haven’t.”
“Look, I don’t know why you would, like you said we barely know each other, but you seem to have a problem with me. Now whatever that problem is and why ever you have it, I would think you’d let Emily Rose come first. She always says such good things about you. You disappear for six years, miss all kinds of stuff in her life, shut her out of yours, you finally show up again, and you act like you don’t want to be here.”
“Well, with you and Meg around, who needs me? You two are always crowding me out.” She should have stopped there, but she couldn’t. “Maybe I’m afraid I’ve already lost her. She was one of the most important people in my life and now . . . everything seems wrong between us. Maybe I’m coming off as a bitch, but I don’t know how to handle that. Any of it.” Jemma wanted to take it back as soon as she finished telling Carolina all of that, but she knew she couldn’t. Carolina had poked and prodded until she’d forced the truth out of Jemma.
Carolina looked down, her black hair falling around her brown face. For the first time since Jemma met her, Carolina didn’t seem to know what to say. She finally looked up again, flipping her hair over her shoulders. “I guess I wasn’t thinking about it that way.”
Jemma shrugged, sniffling, and dug into her purse looking for tissues. Carolina nudged her arm and Jemma realized she was holding a tissue out to her. Jemma murmured her thanks and took it.
“You know, Emily Rose never would say all that much about why you left.”
Jemma nodded, grateful to Emily Rose for that. “Let’s go in there.”
“Okay.” Carolina held open the kitchen door for Jemma. She walked through to the living room and up the stairs to Emily Rose’s room.
Jemma stayed long enough to make sure Emily Rose was as okay as she could be and to say goodnight. Then she left Emily Rose in the capable hands of her bridal party after telling both Emily Rose and Carolina to let her know if she was needed. She hated that Carolina had caught her in a vulnerable moment. She never liked feeling out of control of things. However, she felt a little better when she went outside and found Davis waiting for her by his car as promised.
He held his hands out to her as she moved closer. “You okay?”
She nodded, taking his hands.
“Even with what happened out there, I’m glad I was here with you.”
She smiled, pulling him close. “Me, too.” Her mind went back to prom and the perfect couple. Prom queen Tara and lacrosse jock Davis. High school royalty. And then there was Jemma.
Davis’s face came close to hers, bringing her back to the present. “For now can we pretend you’re not leaving and that this mess of a rehearsal dinner didn’t just happen?” Davis whispered against her lips.
She nodded, resting her hands on his shoulders.
He started to speak again.
She placed her fingers over his lips. “No talking.”
Davis nodded, moving her fingers aside and placing his lips over hers.
His fingers found hers and he brought their hands to rest on his hips. She sighed, pressing her lips closer to his. Squeezing his fingers, she moved herself closer to him until there was no space between them. He turned their bodies so that she was pressed between him and the car. She wanted to stay right there forever. From her ankles to her knees and upward, her body craved Davis Hill.
“I like kissing you,” he whispered when their lips finally parted. “I missed it. A lot.”
She grinned into his shoulder. “I like that you like kissing me.”
“Good.” He stroked her hair.
When she was able to think again, something occurred to her. “That had to be weird for you. Seeing Tara like that.”
His fingers stopped moving through her braids.
“Just out of the blue like that. And it’s probably been a while since you saw her last?”
He nodded, staring down the street into dusk and streetlights.
She brushed her fingertips along the backs of his hands. “If you want to talk about her or anything, I—”
“No. I don’t,” Davis said, kissing the tip of her nose. “For now, it’s only us, remember? Your rule. Only us.”
Chapter 10
Always a wedding guest and never a bride. That was how she wanted it. Jemma had no plans to become anyone’s bride. Definitely not soon and maybe not ever. She wasn’t sure people like her were meant to be wives. People who weren’t able to put a lot of faith into the word “love.”
Saturday morning, she sat sideways on the bathroom sink so that she could face the mirror and concentrate on applying eye shadow. She didn’t wear it often—usually she went with only eye liner and mascara for eye makeup—so the task was a challenging one. Yet it still gave her too much time to think about Davis and being pressed between his car and his body.
He was coming to pick her up soon to go to the wedding. She needed to finish getting ready. At least she didn’t have to worry about her hair. Her braids hung free over her back. Still, she needed to get done with the makeup so she could throw on her dress. She’d decided on a strappy pale-mint-colored sundress with eyelets. She paired it with white sandals and a matching jade earring and necklace set.
Not a moment sooner than she’d slipped on her sandals and checked the mirror to make sure everything worked together, she heard a knock at the front door. When she answered it, Davis’s eyes moved appreciatively over her. She returned the appraisal. He wore a light-colored sports coat with matching slacks and a white shirt unbuttoned at the throat. They draped a little on his lanky form, but he still made them look good. He pulled a bouquet from behind his back and he had to speak first because the simple gesture tied her tongue.
He ran a hand through his hair, briefly lifting it off his forehead, and gave her an awkward yet adorable smile. “Uh, dahlias. Because you don’t like roses—especially red ones—and because if I remember right, dahlias are your favorite.”
A shaky grin stretched across her face. “I only said that to you once and it was years ago. I didn’t think you were listening.”
He put the flowers into her trembling hands. “I bet you’d be surprised at what I’ve heard when you think I’m not listening.”
“I guess these need some water.” She stepped back so he could come inside. After closing the door behind him, she stepped back a little. She wanted to at least try to resist temptation.
He kissed her cheek. “You’re gorgeous.”
The flowers almost slipped through her fingers. “Ready for our first date?” Jemma asked with a nervous laugh.
Davis looked at her with a mixture of regret and desire in his eyes. “This is how it should have been at prom. Not me with Tara trying
not to watch you across the room. And you looking so sad and—it wasn’t right.”
“That’s in the past now.” Jemma looked down at his loafers.
“I wanted . . . things should have been different. I wish they had been.” He caressed her chin. “Different.”
“You were so beautiful that night,” he whispered, tilting her chin up so that she was forced to look at him. The pad of his thumb was smooth and warm against her skin.
She tried to laugh off his words so they wouldn’t drown her. “When you say I’m beautiful now, I can understand it better. Then? I was a joke.”
“You’ve always been beautiful to me. Just because I was being a jerk back then doesn’t mean I couldn’t see it.” His eyes searched her face as if looking for answers her words couldn’t provide.
Davis reached out and slid his hands up her arms. He leaned in close, grazing his lips against her throat, murmuring into her skin about how it should have been her at prom. That it should have always been her. Heat blazed under every inch of her skin his lips touched.
She backed away a little. “I’ll put these away. We have to get going.” She pulled him into the living room by his jacket sleeve, careful to put as much distance between them as possible. That plan didn’t work so well. He closed the distance between them and put his hands on the back of her arms.
She breathed in the familiar scent of his cologne. By itself, it wasn’t anything special—available at any department store in the country. What made the scent special was the fact that it was on his skin. It brought back so many good memories. Funny how selective her memory could be. At that moment, with her back pressed to his chest, her mind was definitely working against her. She could only associate good things with the clean scent on his skin. Things she missed so much, her heart ached when she thought about them.
“Davis . . .” She trailed off as he led her to the couch. He sat and pulled her onto his lap. She tossed the flowers on the coffee table and then pressed her body to his.
The Davis Years (Indigo) Page 7