If you’ll let me, I’ll wait for you.
If you’ll let me.
There is no presumption in his words, no sureness that I am his for the taking as long as enough time passes. I appreciate his consideration immensely.
After putting my phone away, I bring the coffee mug to my lips, take in a long warm sip and just watch the people walking by on the busy street outside. Each one of them has a story of their own, some perhaps less complex than mine, but one can never tell. It boggles the mind if you let it.
“Emma?”
My heart nearly stops at the sound of the male voice, and for a moment I’m so sure it’s John and consider he’s followed me here, hoping to win me back with a grand romantic gesture. But when I look up, it’s his older brother, Michael, standing above my chair.
“Michael?”
“Yeah.” He lets out a small laugh. “What in the world are you doing in New York?”
“It’s a class trip,” I say, still trying to get over running into him. “I’ve been here for a few days.”
“Well, damn. What are the chances? You mind if I sit?”
“Sure… go ahead.”
He takes his overcoat off to reveal a suit that perfectly fits him—he’s styled and as on point with his wardrobe as John is. He eases into the less comfortable chair across from mine, the scent of manly cologne wafting over.
“You been doing okay?” he asks, his eyes quieting.
“Better than expected,” I reply, though I’m not entirely sure how true that is. “You know about John and I breaking up?”
He nods, his expression momentarily glum. “I do. I was sorry to hear about that. It was easy for me to see how much he loved you, and I’m sorry if I ever put any doubt into your mind about your suitability for one another.”
“I never doubted his love, not until he broke up with me,” I say, focusing on Michael’s eyes that are hazel instead of the blue-gray of John’s.
Michael looks at me thoughtfully. “That’s all to do with my parents. They can be awful when they want to be.”
“John’s been in contact with me. He wants to explain things,” I say, maybe only telling Michael because I hope for some insight he might have as to whether John is really sure about us this time around.
“As he should,” he says, not betraying anything he might know with his expression or his words. “Will you give him another chance?”
“I don’t know,” I say truthfully. “I feel like I’ve had enough of having my heart broken.”
“He’d hate to hear you say that, I’m sure.” Michael looks solemn, but in the next moment is out of his chair and standing up, as if to leave. “By chance, are you free for the rest of the afternoon?”
“Free?” I guess I’m still distracted enough thinking about John that I’m not sure exactly what he’s asking me.
“Yeah, if you don’t have any other obligations in the next few hours.”
“I guess… sure. I don’t have to meet up with the group until this evening.”
“Excellent!” Michael beams. “Then I’m going to show you around as much as the city as I can. I think your spirits could use a little lifting, and my little brother wouldn’t want you sitting in a coffee shop all by yourself in the most exciting city in the world, now would he?”
“I guess not, but it’s snowing, and I heard it’s only going to get worse.”
“Well, it is New York,” he says, “and I’ll be sure to get you back to wherever it is you need to be safely and securely.”
“Okay, I’ll go,” I say, finding myself smiling and laughing a little at the invitation, feeling at ease and momentarily seeing John again, seeing his face in Michael’s the way I’d imagined it with Denny all those nights ago.
After several hours of walking around, the white of snow covering the gray of the city, we end up in Michael’s loft. The snowfall picked up faster than I think even he anticipated. Businesses started to close up while streams of cars filled the streets, people eager to get home before it got worse. I had to call one of my chaperones to check in and explain that I might not make it back to the hotel tonight.
Michael’s loft is big and not so different from the Manhattan apartments you see on sitcoms or dramas and know how unrealistic it is that the characters could actually afford to live in them. Michael assures me his rent is through the roof and that he’s considering downsizing or just moving back to Seattle.
“You want a drink?” he asks, already mixing something up for himself.
“No. I’m trying not to.” After meeting with Mr. Thatcher, I’d totally abstained from alcohol, even at the times I’d felt a desperate need for John.
“My bad,” he says, sidestepping to the kitchen sink and dumping it down the drain. “It’s just habit to presume.”
I’m standing near one of the very large windows where he joins me, his form so like John’s, his silhouette close enough that it could fool me in the soft light in the loft.
“City never sleeps.” He looks up and down the street. “The snow will put a wrench in it, but on any other night, it would be as alive at two in the morning as it is at nine o’clock at night, at least around here. I love that about New York… always something to do and so many people.”
“It does make Seattle look sleepy,” I say, “but I’d miss the mountains and the islands and the forests. I’m not even sure I’d want to go to school here.”
“Oh, you’d get used to it,” he says, putting his hand on my shoulder, then removing it and settling it at my waist.
I’m surprised at myself for liking his touch, imagining the hand belongs to John. And when he kisses me, it’s like falling into a trance, willing his lips to be John’s lips. I ease into him, allowing him to hold my body closer… and closer… to his.
CHAPTER THIRTY
EMMA
After New York, the fashion shows, the noise, the snow… after Michael… I’m glad to be home. I’d parked my car in the airport garage, and the eighty dollars for parking seems worth not having to get on the train with everyone else to head back to the city. Plus, it gives me time alone to think.
It’s a clear day, clearer than it was in New York when we left. The blizzard had been brutal, but incredibly quick. The temperature had shot up the next day and turned most of what had socked people in for the night to slush by the next evening. It’s colder here than it was there, and I’m grateful for the hot shower I take at the condo, trying to decide if it’s finally time to meet with John and what exactly I should tell him. New York had offered a clarity that I hadn’t anticipated. And now, my decision about my possible future with John is firm. The only thing left to do is to tell him.
After I step out of the steamy bathroom, I text him.
If you’re free, I can talk… in person.
While I want him to respond, so much so that I stare at the screen for a good five minutes after I hit send, I realize it’s possible he might not have been waiting with baited breath to hear from me.
I’m free for you. Let me know when and where.
The text rolled in after I’d dried my hair, gotten dressed and just finished applying my makeup. I was ready now… in theory. But just the idea of seeing John again makes my heart speed up and my throat go dry. I couldn’t know how things would go. I could only hope they’d end up the way I desperately wanted them to.
Me: At your house? Stephen’s house… would that be weird?
John: That works. I’ll head over there now. Will you be there soon?
Me: At the condo. I’ll leave now.
And that was it. I head down the elevator to the garage space Mom was gracious enough to give me, get into my little Jetta and drive out into the streets of Seattle. In less than twenty minutes, I’ll see John again.
JOHN
I’ve been pacing the living room since I cut out of school and drove like a bat out of hell to get home. My stomach is twisted up into knots because I have no idea what she’s coming here to tell me. For the l
ast couple of weeks, I’ve gone to bed with hope, hanging on to the fact that she was at least responding to me, but now that we’re actually about to see one another again, I feel panic rising from deep within. What if she’s done with me for good? What then?
The doorbell startles me. I take a deep breath, wipe my sweaty hands on my jeans and then open the door.
“Hi,” Emma says, looking beautiful but also more… sure.
“Come in… it’s so good to see you,” I blurt out, anxious to have her here again. I close the door behind us before she can change her mind.
“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice,” she says in an almost businesslike manner that worries me.
“I’d see you whenever you want,” I answer, probably sounding desperate. “Come on in and sit down.”
“Thanks,” she says so sweetly and with that smile I’ve missed so much it hurts.
“Can I get you something to drink? Water? Coke?” I’m ready to bounce back up from the chair I sat down in—hopefully I can contain my nervous energy.
“I’m fine.” She’s sitting across from me and looks down for a moment before her eyes land back on mine.
“I want you to know how sorry I am,” I begin, deciding I have an opening at attempting to explain things to her. “I only broke up with you to protect you… or at least that’s what I thought I was doing.”
“I know,” she says, offering me a compassionate smile.
“You know? But how?” I raise my eyebrows, so many questions going through my head.
“I was in New York. It was a last minute thing for school, and I ran into your brother.”
“New York? Michael?” Now I’m confused. “You just ran into him?”
“I did actually… at a café near the hotel I was staying at. He showed me around, and then we talked.” She shifts in her chair, uncomfortable I think. “John, something happened, and I just need to get it out before I tell you the rest. I just hope you won’t jump to any conclusions.”
“About what?” She’s scaring me.
“I’ve missed you, John… so very much. You broke my heart, and when I was alone with your brother, well… he kissed me. For a few seconds, I could see you in him, and I kissed him back, and it almost felt like before, when you and I were together.”
The knots in my stomach grow tighter, as does my fist in trying to reconcile what’s she’s telling me about my brother kissing her.
“And then the spell was broken, for both of us. I’m not sure who pulled away first, but I know he was as mortified as I was.” She pauses, concern etched across her face. “John, are you okay?”
I swallow, but the dryness in my throat is still there. “That’s all that happened?” I ask.
She nods. “Once we got over the weirdness, we talked. Him kissing me was about a girl he’d just started dating and had broken up with him the week before, and he could tell I’d just been missing you. After that, he told me what he knew about you and I, what he’d put together from whatever conversations he’d had with you and your parents. He told me about your old girlfriend, Alicia. He said you broke up with me to stop your mother from doing something drastic, like what she’d done to her, and that you still loved me, that you’d never stopped.”
I’m still getting over the fact that my brother kissed Emma, but knowing that he told her the truth about my feelings is allowing me to push past it pretty quickly.
“That’s all true,” I say. “I never would have willingly broken up with you, but if he told you everything about Alicia, then you can understand how scared I was for you. But I love you, Emma, as much today as I did when I got down on my knee and asked you to marry me.”
She smiles and laughs softly. “That seems like a lifetime ago.”
“I’d very much like to put that ring on your finger again, Emma, but you’d have to accept it knowing how against us my parents are, how they might try to hurt you just to keep you out of my life.”
She rubs her top lip over her bottom one, appearing to consider this. “I don’t think you’d let that happen.”
“No, I wouldn’t. Denny backed me up when I went over and talked to them. My mother is capable of a lot, but I’m pretty confident she won’t push things. I’m still sorrier than you know that you’ve suffered because of me and my family.”
“It’s hardly your fault. Your mother is manipulating you the way Mr. Thatcher tried to manipulate me.” She’s pensive, and I’m about to ask if she’s okay when she says, “I saw him, you know?”
“I didn’t know…” I take another deep breath.
“I’d planned on it for quite a while. I was ready to gloat, to tell him I’d found true love that didn’t have strings attached to it. I’d almost shelved the entire idea when you broke up with me, but I knew I had to do it for other reasons too.”
“What did—” I clear my throat. “What did he say to you?”
“He made a half-ass apology and said he hoped we could move forward together.” She shakes her head. “He actually thought that, and I’m pretty sure he was stunned when I told him no.”
“Damn.”
“I’d never told him how what he did affected me before that. I’d written letters, but the only thing I’d actually sent him was a note during the trial, telling him I couldn’t see a future for us. He’d responded to that indirectly, and very coldly. Because of that, there were questions I needed him to answer.”
“Did he… answer them?”
“Yes,” she says, sounding disappointed, “but I’m not sure I liked all of his answers.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Maybe not just yet.”
“I’m proud of you,” I say. “It must have been hard facing him, and I should have been there with you.”
“My parents and Jennifer and her mom were outside the room,” she says, knocking my ego down a peg, not purposely of course. “But I wish you’d been there too.”
I drag a hand through my hair, still feeling like I’d failed her. “While you were out facing your demons,” I say, “I was getting lost in mine.”
“What do you mean?” Her ears perk up, and she moves to the edge of the chair.
“You were right about Shannon… from the legal clinic? She liked me, and apparently has a thing for cocaine too.”
“Oh.” Emma puts her hand to her mouth.
“Yeah,” I say. “For a little while, I reverted to the kid I was when I was fifteen with Alicia, except this time, it was more about wanting to forget than it was about partying or trying to prove I was an adult.”
“And this thing with Shannon?” Now I see fear in her eyes.
“Nothing happened, Emma,” I assure her. “She tried, but it was just the drugs… which didn’t do anything but dull the ache for a while.”
Her face relaxes, and she looks as relieved as I felt when she’d said nothing happened with Michael beyond a disconcerted kiss. “I can understand that, John. I’ve tried to numb my pain too.”
“With alcohol,” I say, wishing I’d have talked to her sooner about what I knew was a problem.
“Yes,” she answers. “But like I said, I’m doing my best not to use that as a crutch anymore. It doesn’t really help.”
“I’m here for you,” I offer. “From now on, if you’ll let me, I’ll always be here for you.”
She’s up and off the chair and on my lap before I can say anything else. She reaches her arms around my neck, and I wrap mine around her waist, pulling her close, taking in her sweet, clean scent and burying my face in her hair.
“And if you need help stopping the drugs, then I’m here for you too,” she whispers.
“It was just a slip up,” I assure her. “I stopped because I didn’t want to be a man that you wouldn’t be proud of, even if I never saw you again. That’s the kind of hold you have on me, Emma.”
“You have that hold on me too,” she says, beginning to cry. “I love you so much.”
“I love you more,” I say,
though the way we hold one another and the way that we kiss speaks volumes more than those words ever could.
EMMA
I’d planned to take this reintroduction to John slowly, but as he holds my hand and leads me toward his bedroom, I realize that will be impossible.
When he closes the door behind us, he walks over to his dresser and opens the drawer. I imagine he might be looking for a condom, but he instead pulls out the same box he had all those months ago at Discovery Park. He turns, pops it open and takes out the ring.
“Will you wear this for me again?” he asks, getting down on one knee and holding it out to me.
I can’t help the tears that spring from my eyes. If I’d built a wall up to prevent my heart from being hurt by John, it’s now crumbling into a giant heap as I quickly nod my head in affirmation.
“Yes, of course I will,” I say.
He’s crying too as he stands and places the ring onto my finger. “This time I won’t disappoint you,” he says, pulling me into his warm embrace, into his heart and back into his life.
“You could only disappoint me if you leave me.” I offer the reminder, holding just as tightly to him, having faith he won’t let his parents get between us again, the ring on my finger a symbol of our strength.
“That will never happen,” he whispers, his warm breath tickling my ear. “Being apart from you? No… not even a possibility.”
With a building desire, I drop my hands to his waist and unbuckle him, reveling in the soft moans he makes after I whip the belt through its loops, unbutton him and drag my fingers over the increasingly hard girth between his legs.
“You sure you’re ready for this again?” he asks me with baited breath.
“I’m sure… more than sure.”
It’s so easy to fall right back into him, to kick off my boots and let him slide my sweater up and over my head, unbutton and tug my jeans down and off of my legs, then hitch his thumbs into my panties, his eyes heavy with desire as he pulls them down.
I push the material of his shirt up and over his flat stomach and strong shoulders with just as much need, the feel of his warm skin under the palms of my hands like a sixth sense I’d briefly lost and have now found again. When I get back to his pants, he is practically bursting to get out of them, and he barely gets them off, his boxers still clinging to his ankles as we get to the bed.
Broken by Love (The Basin Lake Series Book 2) Page 30