Page 32 of Free to Believe
“Oh.” What am I supposed to say to that? Mugsy settles down on the deck between us and lets out a sigh. Without him to distract me, I ask the inevitable. “Why?”
“Part of it was because I found out he was a lying, cheating dick. Part of it was he stole from me. But there’s a part that I haven’t said out loud. He changed from when we first met. By the time I ended things, he was an utter asshole. I don’t know why I let it go on as long as I did.” Pausing, she takes a deep breath. “He wanted me to put down my dog since he was so old.” Her voice in the dusk of the night is laced with well-earned bitterness that I understand all too well. “I don’t know you yet, Jake. Everything I do, I know from Dani. And we didn’t get off on the right foot, but you do have one good point. You just spent more time petting my dog in the time you’ve been sitting here than in the year I was with my ex.”
I choose my words carefully before I respond. “I think you’re well rid of the schmuck.”
One heartbeat. Two.
Then Emily agrees. “That seems to be the consensus.”
“Now, give me a crash course on fashion so I can go home and seem like an authority to my daughter.”
“Please. That would take more than just a single conversation.”
I let out a mock sigh. “What will it take?”
“A lobotomy because I think your interest in fashion is about zero.”
“You’d be right,” I admit. “But apparently, I have a pretty important woman to impress, so I’d better start learning.”
That tips her lips into a lazy grin. “That’s a good answer, Dad.” The urge to tangle my fingers in the back of her hair and kiss her in the sunset is overwhelming.
Emily begins talking about all of the meticulous details about how she created Dani’s gown. Long after the sun goes down, I realize Emily’s not only incredibly talented, she’s focused and driven, with a brilliant brain and an attention for detail.
Maybe Dani knew what she was doing by sending her here. For Jenna.
For me, what started out as a really shitty day ended up pretty damn amazing with the music of the ocean in harmony with Emily’s voice.
Mugsy lets out little excited yips while he’s slipped back into his puppy dreams as if in agreement.
18
Emily
Jake and I seem to have declared a detente. He insisted on having Jenna come over to help me with Mugsy so I didn’t need to tackle the stairs. He even offered to make a run for groceries, which I politely declined. I stocked up enough on my bike ride from hell to last me until the Rover arrives in a few days.
I spend my days trying to find inspiration in the riveting view before me. The ocean is everything I need it to be: beautiful, magnificent, wild, stimulating. So, why I can’t feel anything beyond my own oppression is beginning to terrify me.
I’m frightened. I’m afraid if I look too closely at what’s been handed to me, I’m going to see I should have sacrificed more, worked harder, dedicated myself more.
I’m finding no solace in my solitude. I’m spending hour after hour sitting on the back deck staring out over the water, trying to find some inspiration. The vastness of the water just reflects what I already know. I’m all alone. And I’m beginning to lose faith I’ll ever find my way back to my soul—that is, if I ever knew where to locate it to begin with.
Then I feel a cold nuzzle against my hand, and tears well in my eyes.
“Sorry, Mugs. I know I’m never truly alone with you around, baby.” Seemingly satisfied, he finds a patch of sunlight and plops down into it.
I let out a long sigh. I’ve flipped through all the original drawings of my dresses trying to feel that tingle in my mind and in my hands. So far, the first few days have produced nothing but frustration.
Why did I come here if it was only for this? I pick up the pencil to begin drawing when a flash of Jake’s long-lashed brown eyes comes into my mind. My heartbeat accelerates. Without thinking, I press the tip of my pencil down so hard, it snaps.
No. Just no.
I refuse. I’m not going to give myself time to think about a man when I’m only here for a few months. I need to find me again. I need to recover from what was so I can find out what my future holds.
The problem is, I can’t not think of him. Each night I heat up some of the pasta he thoughtfully brought over, I smile. Such a small thing, but it shows the caring man beneath the hard-ass. That, combined with what I know from Dani’s chattering during our fittings, make him fascinating as hell.
And holy hell, I’d have to be inhuman to not say that I didn’t feel the spark between us when we were so close petting Mugsy the other night. I could smell his fresh, marine scent that complemented the ocean air. It stirred something I haven’t felt in longer than I’m ashamed to admit considering I was engaged.
I can’t do this. I came here for a reason.
