Page 38 of The Love Rematch
“Yesterday, when he chose Kevin for me, did he know?”
“Well, that depends.”
“On what?”
“On how well he read the files.”
Emily sees red.
He knew.
He fucking knew, and he chose Kevin out of spite.
Asshole.
Fury lights up her entire being. It simmers in the background while she smiles and presents Kevin with a pity puzzle piece as he desperately holds a barf bag to his lips. It sizzles while she’s led to the van where wardrobe is waiting. It spits and spews and grows for forty-five minutes before she steps onto the Santa Monica Pier in a pink peplum blouse, ripped jean shorts, white sneakers, sixties-inspired sunglasses, and a chunky turquoise necklace from her own line.
Outside, she’s Malibu Barbie. But inside, she’s a seething inferno of rage.
She blames the rage for what happens next.
A masculine arm grabs her from behind.
Without thinking, Emily flings her elbow back into his head. The man groans and she twists, on autopilot as she brings her knee to his groin, the lessons drilled into her. He keels over and she pushes on the back of his neck so he flails to the ground. It’s only when he rolls onto his back, face pinched in pain, that she realizes he’s not Jake.
He’s her date.
“Tony!”
Shit!
Emily drops to her knees beside him. Jake was in her head. All that pent-up anger was in her heart. She just reacted.
“I’m so sorry,” she gushes.
“Don’t be!” Nina calls from the side as a medic rushes in. “That was amazing!”
“Was it?” Tony grumbles as he pushes the medic away and eases to his feet with an aggravated, “I’m fine. I’m fine.”
“I’m so sorry, really,” Emily repeats, following him up and tentatively putting her hand on his arm. “My father is a police chief, and when my sister and I told him we both wanted to move to New York City after graduation, he made us take self-defense classes with some of the new recruits. I didn’t mean— You surprised me! I feel awful.”
“Do you?” he snaps, then stops, turning to the side. Emily follows his gaze. The cameras are watching them, red light on and rolling. Suddenly, he laughs, his annoyance vanishing as if it were never there. It’s almost frightening how fast his reaction changes. “Don’t be sorry! I’m impressed. Let me try this another way.”
He stretches out his hand.
Emily shakes it.
And that should reset the date, but it doesn’t. Though Tony puts on the charm for the cameras, there’s an undercurrent Emily can’t help but pick up on. Andgod, she wishes she would stop bringing everything back to Jake, but she can’t help it. The last time she played carnival games was with him senior year, and the flashbacks run through her mind like a montage of how it should be.
When she beats Tony at the water gun game and he offers a begrudging congratulations, she closes her eyes and sees Jake. Neon lights reflected in his eyes as he grinned wickedly and leaned in, dragging his nose up the column of her neck as his lips searched for her ear. “That was so fucking sexy.”
When Tony bests her at the roll-a-ball derby, he puffs up his chest and chucks his winnings at her like an afterthought. In the back of her mind, she remembers Jake, whooping like an idiot when he finally beat her, then hooking an arm around her neck to pull her close. A laugh was on his lips when he gently teased, “All right, loser. Pick your prize.”
When Tony spurts ketchup on her shirt, it’s to embarrass her on national television. But back when Jake had nudged her ice cream into her face, it was so he could lean in and lick a wayward drip from her jaw. The resulting shiver that ran down her spine had nothing to do with the cold.
And when they rode the Ferris wheel, Jake didn’t cross his arms and turn away the second the cameras shut off. He pulled her onto his lap until she straddled him, then he buried his face in her chest before groaning, “God, I’ve been waiting to do this all fucking night.”
And she deserves that.
