Fresh Meet Page 11

  It takes Marcus several moments to regain his composure before he clears his throat. “Of course. No problem. I didn’t . . . I didn’t realize you already have someone.”

  “I do. And word has it, they’re the best too.” Jace picks up his water glass and takes a long drink.

  Marcus wouldn’t be dumbass Marcus if he didn’t take the bait. “Oh? Someone I might have heard of in passing?”

  The audacity of this man knows no bounds.

  Normally, I would have had enough and said something to him, and I know I’ll replay this conversation later in my head when I’m in bed, but right now, I can’t take my eyes off Jace. He’s absolutely brilliant.

  This verbal volley captivating.

  He winks at me, freaking winks at me, before he nods at Marcus. “You know, you just might have.” He squeezes my thigh, and my breath gets stuck in my throat. “I’m with Schneider and Chase.”

  Marcus swallows audibly while a row of gasps erupt on the other side of the table when the rest of my family finally catches on. Jace isn’t as small a fish in the water as they thought he was.

  After enduring these types of dinners for as long as I can remember, and having the unfortunate displeasure of ninety percent of conversations being work-related, even I know that Schneider and Chase only take on big clients.

  The atmosphere in the room changes in a nanosecond.

  Instead of turning away from Jace, everyone—especially my dad and brother-in-law—turns toward Jace, leaning in his direction with real interest for the first time tonight.

  It’s hideous to watch and only adds to the long list of things I wish I never had to witness tonight.

  I knew my family didn’t think I was the smartest in the room. I knew they didn’t think my career choices have been the best.

  But I didn’t expect them to think that I wasn’t a good catch for someone.

  I thought all their attempts to set me up with a constant stream of my dad’s and brother-in-law’s business partners was their twisted way of setting me up with someone good. That they actually thought I was worthy of being with someone they admire and accept.

  What just transpired changes everything, and I’m not ready for the wave of sadness to hit me.

  Time seems to slow down as the fact that my family assumed I’d never find anyone special or decent on my own hits my system.

  Shock and somberness floods me, weighing down my limbs to the extent that breathing becomes difficult.

  I’m not sure why I was still holding on to that last piece of hope that my family might accept me for who I am one day, that they’d actually love me for who I am one day.

  Awareness spreads through my veins like the most potent poison. It’s cruel, out to cause utter devastation. Clawing at my flesh like it wants to rip it straight off my bones.

  “Em.” Jace’s voice cuts through the fog in my brain and I look at him, trying to focus on him.

  On the way his brown waves fall across his forehead, how his blue eyes are so beautiful, and his clean-cut features so handsome. I want to smile, I try to, but my facial muscles don’t want to work.

  They’re broken, just like the huge realization is still tearing me up on the inside. Relentlessly and unforgiving.

  His hand comes up to touch my face. “You okay there, ladybug?”

  My brain is slowly starting back up, trying to stand up proud and loud, pushing away the darkness and doubt that momentarily pulled me under.

  I inhale and exhale. Inhale, exhale.

  Focusing on Jace helps.

  Focusing on the fact he didn’t call me Emilia for the first time but Em. Followed by ladybug.

  In front of my family. In front of the people who not only once, but several times in these past few hours have shown him how superficial and pretentious they are, trying to put him in a place they assumed he belongs after their quick dismissal.

  He’s all I can see to not fall apart.

  He’s my center, inadvertently helping me get my equilibrium back. Just by being here. By being him. By seeing me.

  Then he leans in and gently touches my cheek with his lips. “Let me get you out of here.”

  Not let’s get out of here, but let me get you out of here.

  Like none of what they did to him mattered, like he’s doing this for me.

  I was wrong before. I did not become infatuated with Jace tonight. I jumped off that cliff a while ago, and I’m still falling.

  I’m so stunned, completely floored by his behavior and my realizations, that my body isn’t capable of blushing at his obvious affection in front of the people that just hurt me deeply.

  Without waiting for a reply, he grabs my hand and stands, pulling me up with him. “Well, it’s time for us to go. Thanks for the meal, it was delicious. I’d say it was fun but I think we all know it wasn’t.”

  My mother’s mouth falls open as she shoots me a glare like this is all my fault. “Emilia.”

  She might as well have slapped me across the face for the way my name sounded on her lips.

  It adds another drop to my already overfilled patience tank, and red-hot anger surges to the surface. “No, Mother. I think we’ve had enough for tonight.”

  Mr. Dickwad-cheater pushes his chair back and glares at us. I’m not sure if he’s trying to be intimidating, if his actions are supposed to be a warning. Who knows? But he’s at the very top of my shit list.

  I point a finger at him. “Don’t.”

  His eyes form small slits as he huffs and stands up, propping his fists on the table to lean forward. “I can do whatever the fuck I want. I certainly don’t need permission from you, so watch your mouth.”

  That’s it. He didn’t just add another drop to my tank, he pushed the whole dang thing over. I’m used to having my feelings trampled on by those people—purposefully or not—but then everyone’s been incredibly disrespectful to Jace tonight too. And now Shane’s being extra assholish.

  My fingers tingle as I squeeze them into a fist next to my body.

  I’ve never hit anyone in my life before, but I’m so incredibly angry that I pull back my hand.

  Jace snatches me around the waist and pulls me back several feet, not letting go.

  He points a finger at Shane. “If I ever hear you talk to her like that again, we’ll have a talk. Right now, how about you tell your wife why we saw you at Berkeley Pier this morning.”

  Jace spins us around and starts walking, and somehow, I manage to put one foot in front of the other without tripping.

  Absolute chaos erupts behind us, my sister’s angry voice loud and clear as she tells her husband that he promised to not meet up with his women in public places anymore.

  Disgust turns my stomach into a sour mess, and dinner is starting to make its way up as we stumble out of the house and into the fresh air.

  She knows. My sister freaking knows her husband is cheating, and all she asks of him is to do it behind closed doors? What the ever-loving hell? How is this my family?

  I try to pull in a few lungfuls of air but Jace doesn’t slow down.

  And I get it. The urge to get distance between us and everyone else is impossible to resist.

  Jace unlocks the car and opens my door.

  I don’t look at him, I can’t, not ready yet to appraise his reaction to this mess now that we’re away from the crime scene.

  He closes the car door after I slip into the seat before getting in himself, zooming out of my parents’ driveway like it’s no one’s business.

  It will take me a while to work through what went down tonight and what it actually means for me and my life.

  Now, I keep my eyes ahead, unwilling to look back at the mess we left behind.

  Neither of us attempts conversation, and Jace stops the car a few minutes later on the side of the road, turning on the blinker.

  He shifts my way. “Em, talk to me.”

  Em. Again.

  My eyes stay trained on my lap. “I don’t know what to say.”
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  And I really don’t. Even though there weren’t a lot of words spoken tonight—especially not with me—so much happened. More than I can wrap my head around at this point. Too much to even begin dissecting it.

  “That’s okay.” His voice is soft, gentle. “Do you want to go somewhere else? You barely ate anything.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t think I could stomach anything, so just home please. If it’s not a bother.”

  “Of course not.” This time, the softness is gone from Jace’s voice, replaced by a grit I haven’t heard before. “And just so we’re clear, you’re never a bother. Never.”

  I swallow hard when his hand reaches for mine across the middle console.

  “Em, look at me. Do you understand that?”

  My eyes flicker to his, burning from the suppressed emotions slowly clawing their way to the surface. I need to get home and be alone, get away from him before I have a meltdown. I don’t think I could take him witnessing that today.

  So I bite my tongue and push everything back down for a while longer and nod. “Yes.”

  That’s all I manage to squeeze out.

  “Good.”

  I turn my face and look out the window, grateful when he gets back on the road. His hand stays interlocked with mine, and I pull strength from that connection, even when it comes from a point of sadness.

  If tonight has brought out one of the darker parts of my family, it has also brought out one of Jace’s good ones.

  He was there for me, defending and supporting me when I needed it the most.

  I know I’ll be okay, even if it’ll take some time to lick my wounds, but I’m more glad than ever that life has brought Jace and me together.

  From the looks of it, this man is in my corner.

  He chose to be in my corner.

  And I’m not sure how to handle that.

  Because, and this is even more horrible, it’s the first time I know what that’s like.

  Fourteen

  Jace

  The music blasts in my ears—thanks to my waterproof earbuds—as I enter the last few laps of one of my equally most-loved and most-hated training sessions: my freestyle and individual medley swim. It’s four thousand meters long, lasts almost an hour, and mixes speed and endurance.

  My muscles burn, and I can barely feel my body anymore. Every motion, every movement of my arms and legs is one hundred percent muscle memory at this point, proving how resilient we are as humans, and that when pushed, we’re truly made for greatness. To reach goals we ourselves didn’t know we were capable of.

  When the music stops, and I hit the wall, I practically throw myself on the line divider, putting every ounce of my weight on the small plastic buoys. I’m spent, absolutely spent. Maybe even more than usual.

  “You look like you’re going to pass out.” Coach Martin crouches down with a huff on the pool edge, and I tilt my head his way with the speed of a turtle.

  “I feel like it.” My heart is hammering like crackling thunder as I lift the tight cap from my head and pull it off along with my goggles and headphones.

  Coach reaches out, and I sigh in relief as I hand everything over. “You okay?”

  I snort, unable to do much else at this point. He waits until my lungs have recovered enough for me to push out some words. “Was my time that bad?”

  “It wasn’t your best, that’s for sure. But that’s not why I’m asking, and you know it.”

  “I know.”

  “Sharon’s worried about you too.”

  “Tell her I’m okay.” Sharon and Bill Martin have taken it upon themselves to smother me with attention ever since I started training with Bill when I was younger.

  Bill saw something in me that motivated both of us, and he was there every step of the way, even more so when my dad unexpectedly died. Bill and my dad grew close over my years of training with him. Which turned my life into even more swimming when our families hung out together outside of training. But I was okay with that since it’s always been my happy place.

  Sharon, on the other hand, likes to play mother hen number two when my mom isn’t around.

  “You know we’re here for you if you need help, right? You’ve had a lot going on. It’s normal that you need some time to adjust to all the life changes.” He leans in and gives me a pat on the shoulder. “Now cool down and get your ass out of here so I can go home too. And get your head back in the game for Nationals. You ain’t gonna win anything like this.”

  A genuine chuckle comes out of my mouth at Bill’s way of showing affection.

  “Will do, old man.”

  “I can kick your ass any day, son. Any day.” With that, he slowly pushes back to standing and brushes through his salt-and-pepper hair. “I still have some paperwork to do at the office. I’ll see you tomorrow. Try and get some rest tonight. You look like you could use it.”

  “Duly noted.”

  Of course, he’s right. I feel like I could sleep for a week straight, but how’s that supposed to work with my new life? But worse than that, Coach is right about my times. I’ve been training to win at Nationals to keep me sharp for the Olympics next year. Right now, I’d say it’s a blurry mess.

  Even though I’ve been doing this for years and have plenty of national and international wins under my belt, I hate to lose. I absolutely detest it.

  But how the hell am I going to perform at my best under these conditions?

  The conversation with Coach, and an extra-long shower, caused enough of a delay to throw me straight into rush-hour traffic. I make it home almost an hour later than usual, grateful for the extra protein bars in my bag. Otherwise, my stomach would have eaten itself on the drive over.

  Em—or Millie, or ladybug, since Emilia is officially banned from my memory—already texted me saying that Tanner was extra tired after a short nap and went down early tonight.

  Which suits me just fine. Even though I’m sad I didn’t get to say good night to him, I did see him earlier today before his nap. With my own exhaustion, I rather not have to bring up the energy to deal with a toddler right now.

  When I get home, I’m quiet, not wanting to wake Tanner. I enter the living room and hear Em cussing in the kitchen.

  “You stupid computer. I can’t read this shitty caption, okay? It’s the worst thing ever for someone like me, why don’t you understand that? Ugh.” She growls the last bit, and I bite back a grin.

  Even though it’s easy to tell she’s frustrated, it’s also cute as hell.

  Seeing someone like her, who is remarkably cheery and pleasant by nature—which is even more extraordinary considering how fucked up her family is—acting a little rough around the edges is somehow refreshing, and I respect that.

  Walking around the corner, I stop and lean against the wall to watch her.

  She squints at the screen before typing on the keyboard of her laptop, nearly stabbing the keys. Two seconds pass before she throws her hands in the air in small fists. “Ah, I hate you, you stupid . . . you stupid thing.”

  “Tell it how you really feel.” I push off the wall and walk to the kitchen island where she’s set up shop.

  Her hand flies to her chest as she glares at me. Then she points a shaky finger at me. “Oh my goodness, you scared me. Don’t do that.”

  “Sorry, I was trying to be quiet because of Tanner.”

  This is the first time I get a good look at her today. Last night when I dropped her off at her place, she practically sprinted out of the car. And when I saw her during my lunch break today, she kept busy, avoiding me.

  Her red hair is piled into a messy bun on top of her head, and her skin looks extra pale today, her freckles standing out more than usual.

  Since she’s back to staring at her computer screen, I walk up next to her and look over her shoulder. “Can I help?”

  She hesitates for a moment before her shoulders droop. “I guess . . . if you don’t mind. I want to sign up for this website, and the captcha test is making that incr
edibly difficult today.”

  “Yeah, I hate those.”

  “Normally, I use the ‘read aloud’ function, but for some reason, it’s not working. None of the functions on the right side are. I already refreshed the site but it stays frozen.”

  “Want me to give it a try?” I keep my comments and suspicions about her issues to myself.

  “Sure.”

  “Okay. It’s 6GI ME3.”

  A moment passes without her doing anything, and I take another small step closer. “You want me to repeat it?”

  “Yes, please. Mmm . . . could you do it slower, please?” Her voice is barely above a whisper, and I’m close enough to see her neck flush. I stare at it for a moment, focused on her pulse beating wildly in her throat.

  “Sure. 6 . . . G . . . I . . . M . . . E . . . 3.” I take my time, waiting for her fingers to circle over the keyboard until she’s hit all the numbers and letters.

  Her cheeks puff out before she blows the air through her puckered lips.

  It’s fascinating to watch her this close.

  With the captcha test finished, there’s no reason to be this close behind her, but I can’t seem to move.

  Shit, I don’t want to move.

  The smell of her skin and hair is intoxicating, and I haven’t had my fill yet.

  “Thanks, Jace.” She does a half-turn, peeking over her shoulder at me, stopping when she realizes how close I am.

  I’d placed my hands on the countertop next to her to be able to lean in closer, yet refrain from pushing my whole body against hers. It’s obvious now that I’ve practically caged her in. How is that hot? “No problem.”

  We study each other in silence. “You know there’s nothing wrong with asking for help, right? We all struggle with something.”

  Her head tilts downward as her eyes close. “I know. It’s a habit, I guess, and a hard one to shake.”

  “I’m here for you.”

  “Thank you.”

  She’s still avoiding my gaze, and it makes my stomach churn.

  “Em?”

  Her gaze snaps up to mine, and I get a total kick out of the glimmer in her eyes at my new name for her. “Hmm?”