Page 124 of Never Let You Go

And, yes, it was sexual, and yes, it was hot as hell, but it was more than that.

Having her in my bedroom was more than just sex to me.

Drunk on her, I crank the music up so it fits my mood. As I get out of the car, moments later in the school’s parking lot, Emma ambushes me.

“You look good.” She smiles, patting my chest. Fuck, I wonder if she can tell I just got the best blow job ever. I self-consciously comb my hair with my fingers while she continues. “So… when can you come for dinner?”

“Come again.”

She sighs. “Whenever I invite you over, you always have something going on. And I get that. I do. So, why don’t you pick the date? I’m totally free for you.”

I ignore her innuendo. Truth is, she’s been nothing but friendly since I set her straight about my absence of feelings for her several weeks ago. She clearly got the message. There’s no point keeping her at a distance.

I’ve been putting her off for too long, now, and I know I’m being rude. Her inviting me over to her place shouldn’t mean anything more than that. We’re the parents of two best friends, and at this point, I can’t keep refusing dinner with her.

“End of the month work for you?”

She pulls a face. “Wow. Are you that busy?”

“I’m training for the competition. Have some mock sessions scheduled with some buddy bakers. Can’t really get out of them.”

Her face pinches. “I told you it was a mistake.”

Here we go again.

“You’re focusing on the wrong thing,” she hammers.

I rub the back of my neck, fighting the itch to tell her to fuck off.

“You’re just trying to make yourself look better for that uppity apprentice of yours…” she trails looking in the distance.

My blood boils.

“… But she’ll be gone before you know it.”

I clench my teeth. “Whatever you say, Ems.” I can’t deny that she’s probably right about that last bit, and I’m working hard enough to forget that. I don’t need her to throw this in my face. Why the fuck am I agreeing to dinner with her again? Skye. It’s for Skye. “Hope you don’t talk shit like that when Skye is around, yeah?”

Her mouth opens but no sound comes out.

“You understand me, Emma?”

“Yeah, Chris, I understand you,” she says quietly.

“Then I’ll see ya end of the month,” I say and go pick up Skye.

thirty-six

Alexandra

Barbara gets to Emerald Creek early afternoon. She’s fully embraced her boho side, not trying to hide it under a pencil skirt and a blazer, like she does in New York. Her long, thick hair flows in the wind, her eyes are done smoky but not too much, and on top of her long wool dress there’s a large, gold and silver pendant in the shape of a moon. Multicolor feathers dangle from her ears, and dozens of colorful bracelets clink happily around her wrists. All this is wrapped in a long, brown leather coat with an intricate carving on the back and a bunch of leather laces crisscrossing the front.

Much like Grace had done with me my first day here, I take Barbara on a walk around town as soon as she gets here.

We reach the main covered bridge just as the ice cracks on the river, big blocks of ice breaking free, the water gushing under it. “So beautiful,” she says, leaning on the bridge’s railing as we stand mesmerized at the elements underneath us. “The force of nature. Seasons. The universe talking to us. Telling us to let it go. There’s no resisting it.” Barbara is smitten with Emerald Creek, and I like that.

I show her around like this is my town.

We walk on the other side of the river, back through the second bridge, after catching a glimpse of the lake still white in the distance, the roofs of the resort glistening at the edge.

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