Page 26 of Never Finished

Jaime

Unfinished business…

That seemed to be a theme with me and Emma. Only now I knew with startling clarity that my long-held suspicions were true. I didn’t have “unfinished business” with Emma. I would never be finished with her.

It was something I’d wondered about often over the years. In my moments of practicality, I would tell myself the reason the memory of her hung on so forcefully was because we had no closure. After the massive fight we had after my run-in with her father, she made it known she wouldn’t choose me over her family, and then she was gone. I thought she was gone forever.

Then, in my more morose moments of missing her, I thought that maybe if I could just get her out of my system, then I could finally find some peace.

But now that I’d spent the night with her, woken up with her in my arms, it became clear there would be no getting her out of my system, despite how she felt about our time together.

I had no idea how the rest of the week would unfold, or what conclusion she may come to regarding us. She seemed to be the same Emma I’d known long ago, but I knew deep down that couldn’t be the whole truth. Too much life had happened to both of us in the last twelve years. Emma Carter, with the bouncy red ponytail, had spent the last several years in expensive business suits, having even more expensive dinners with clients and negotiating deals that were worth more than I would ever make in my lifetime.

She was not the same innocent young woman who raced out of Colorado, leaving my broken heart behind. I’d be foolish to assume that giving her multiple orgasms and whispering sweet words would be enough to make her stay.

As my mind pondered that thought, I knew I was in serious trouble. I wanted her to stay. I already knew I needed her like I needed my next breath. The question was, did she feel the same way?

I walked out of her room, after another early morning romp, determined to enjoy the moment and not overthink the situation. I couldn’t predict what Emma’s next move would be, but she’s always been more pragmatic than me. That’s been our dynamic since the beginning—I’m driven by passion and instinct, and she’s ruled by reason and predictability.

Thankfully, she promised to see me again that night. I didn’t think anything could sour my good mood that day as I drove home… until I walked through the door and a cup whizzed past my head and shattered against the wall.

“You have a lot of nerve showing up here after being out catting around all night, Stefan,” my mother screamed from her perch on a stool in the kitchen. She looked me up and down with disdain in her eyes. “Don’t you dare come near me. I don’t want to smell some cheap hussy's perfume on you!”

Maria rushed in from the living room, her face stricken by the commotion. She looked at me apologetically before rushing over to our mother. I knew better than to defend myself.

“Mama,” Maria said softly to our mother, “This isn’t Papa, it’s Jaime, your son,” she explained gently.

My mom looked at me as if she’d never seen me before, then whispered, “Jaime?”

“Yes Mama,” I answered softly.

Her lips pressed together in a line of consternation. “Of course, I knew it was you,” she said, throwing up a frustrated hand. “Now come help me get my big pan out so I can start you some breakfast.”

“Oh Mama, you really don’t have to…” I started, but Maria shook her head in warning behind our mother. I rushed into the small kitchen and squatted down to retrieve the heavy frying pan my mother used to cook nearly everything.

When I set the pan down on the stove for her, my mother looked up at me with a doting smile and cupped my cheek lovingly, just like when I was a boy, the action making my throat clog with emotion. I didn’t know how many more moments like this I would get.

“Why don’t you go clean up, Mijo. Breakfast will be ready by the time you’re done,” she said, pinching my cheek lightly before turning to the stove, effectively dismissing me.

Maria gave me a look of gratitude for playing along as I backed out of the kitchen, following my mother’s orders and heading for the shower to clean up. The last thing I wanted to do was wash off Emma's scent, but I also knew she was now imprinted on me in a way that could never be washed off.

As I headed down the hall, I lamented what was now becoming a familiar situation with my mom. This wasn’t the first time she’d mistaken me for my father. Considering my resemblance to the man, it wasn’t surprising. What was disconcerting was that every time she mistook me for my father, she was accusing him of having a wandering eye.

Stefan Acosta was the most faithful man I’d ever known. But Mama had a jealous streak that only worsened once we immigrated to the United States. She was convinced the wealthy women of Silverpine would take one look at the tall, dark and charming Stefan and fall over themselves for a taste of something “exotic”.

And it was true, my father attracted his fair share of female attention. The man had a charming smile and was easy to talk to—but he only had eyes for Mama.

For her part, Mama had often told me I’d gotten my dad’s smile, and I needed to be careful who I flashed it to.

I dreaded how she’d react if she found out I was seeing Emma again. She always liked Emma as a person—she declared her to be a “sweet girl.” But she’d warned me back then not to get too attached because that “family of hers” would not be so welcoming. I had brushed off her concerns back then. I’d already met Mrs. Carter several times, and she seemed to like me. But I found out the hard way it wouldn’t be Mrs. Carter who would be the problem.

Once I was in the shower and the scent of Emma still clinging to my skin wafted in the steamy air, I couldn't think of anything other than her. Nor could I stop the goofy smile from overtaking my mouth.

Mere hours before I’d held the woman of my dreams in my arms, and while it felt surreal, it also felt… right. More than I wanted to entertain at that moment.

After my shower, I headed back downstairs, the smell of breakfast wafting to my nose.

Mornings where Mama felt good enough to cook were rare, so I would enjoy this moment, but as I rounded the corner, I saw that her “good day” would be short-lived.

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