CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE - EMMA

 

 

He’s smiling.

That wasn’t the plan. I didn’t start this little adventure to make him happy. “Why are you so happy?’

“What?” He chuckles. “Why wouldn’t I be happy? I’m in Key West with the girl who got away. Fucking sun. Fucking ocean. Fucking beach. This is my jam, girl.”

I can’t help it. I laugh.

“Besides, you’re happy too.”

“I didn’t mean to laugh. It’s just… your jam?”

“That’s what all the cool kids say now.”

“No, it isn’t.”

He shrugs. “I’m cool. You know it. I know it. Let’s just stop pretending.”

“Arrogant, that’s what you are.”

He points at me and grins. God, why does he have to have such a sexy grin? “I wish I had grown up here. You’re so fucking lucky.” And then his smile falls. Just a little as he looks out the window at the ocean. “God, I miss it.”

“The beach?” I ask.

“All of it. The wind. The salty air. The rocking motion of the yacht.” He looks at me. “The idea that you could set sail and end up on the other side of the world, ya know?”

“So. Go do that. No one’s stopping you, right?”

“No,” he says. “No one is. It’s just not the same anymore.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t even own a yacht right now.”

“So go buy one.”

“And then what?”

“Sail it, of course.”

“To where? With who? Why?” I don’t know what to say to that, so he says, “The racing circuit was my excuse. That’s why people came with me, why I had a destination, why I had direction. But they kicked me out for drugs.”

“So race yourself.”

He shakes his head. “It’s just not the same.”

“Hmm,” I hum. Because I don’t really get it.

We’re in the limo on our way to the beach where my parents still run their little dive shop. Except it’s a lot bigger now. I have three older brothers, none of whom went to college like me. And all of whom still live here doing their beachy thing, courtesy of me.

Not entirely true. But I did lend them money to get started in their respective businesses. My parents still own and run the dive shop I grew up with. Same little place near the marina. But I bought all the buildings next to them. So now the Dumas family owns and operates Dumas Diving, Dumas Boat Tours, Dumas Deep-Sea Fishing, and Dumas Water Adventures. We also own an entire block of cottages a few blocks away. Nothing super nice because my family is forever middle-class, no matter how much money they make. So we cater to middle-class people who just want to have a good time on the island and not kill their savings account.

“So…” Jesse says. “Where are you taking me?”

I thought this was a good idea when I came up with it. But now I realize… what the fuck was I thinking? I planned a day of water sports. Diving, of course. Because I’m a rock-star diver. Been doing that my whole life. So I was pretty confident I could show Jesse who’s boss by taking him diving. He might not even be certified and then I could make a big deal about how we have to snorkel instead.

But going to the dive shop means meeting my parents.

Just what the fuck was I thinking?

“Emma? You gonna answer me?”

“You probably don’t have a diving certification, do you?”

“Fuck yeah, I do. I don’t have it with me. But you’ll vouch for me, right?”

Of course he does. “Sure,” I say.

“You’re disappointed, aren’t you?” He smirks.

“No, I’m not.”

“Yeah, you are. You planned this whole day to out-date me.”

“Well, I’m winning so far.”

He leans over in the backseat of the limo and says, “I’ll come in last every day of the week for that little surprise you gave me on the jet.” Then he waggles his eyebrows at me, points to them, and says, “Yes. To be clear. That was innuendo.”

I sigh.

“Seriously, you should let it go now. We’re having fun.”

I side-eye him.

“Liar,” he says. “You are having fun with me. I’m a fun guy.”

He is fun. I will admit that. And he’s kinda been a good sport about the whole drugged-up kidnapping. I did feel pretty guilty about the drugs after he mentioned how hard it was to get clean. But he hasn’t brought it up again. And he’s not like… jonesing for coke, or meth, or whatever his drug of choice was back in the day. So, dodged a bullet there.

But again, my fucking parents.

The limo stops and Jesse looks out the window and up at the sign. “Dumas—oh, shit.” He looks at me. “You brought me… here?”

I nod.

“Your parents’ fucking dive shop?”

I nod again.

“Emma,” he says. “I have no fucking shirt on.”

I laugh. I can’t help it.

“What? I can’t meet your parents for the first time with no shirt on.” He leans forward and taps on the window just in time to catch the driver before he gets out to open my door. “Dude,” Jesse says, once the glass rolls down. “Take us to… somewhere to buy clothes. I need to change.”

“Yes, sir. Mr. Boston,” the driver says.

And I wonder, how the hell does the driver know who Jesse is? He’s my driver.

We go back towards the shops and double-park alongside a beachy clothing store.

Jesse opens the door, looks at me, then says, “Just drive around the block a few times. I’ll be out in five minutes.” He jumps out and slams the door before I can even answer.

True to his word, he is standing at the curb five minutes later when we make our fifth trip around the block.

But it’s what he’s wearing that makes me suck in a deep breath of air and hold it.

I put on these shorty-shorts and the tank top because he asked for the pigtails. This was what I was wearing when we met. I didn’t do it to flirt or make him want me. I really didn’t. I just wanted to piss him off.

But he’s waiting to be picked up wearing something very similar to what he was all those years ago now too.

My heart aches a little as he smiles and waves when we pull up. Because he’s wearing tan board shorts, a white ribbed tank that shows every single hill and valley of his amazing muscle-y chest and stomach, a pair of dark sunglasses, and skater shoes on his feet.

He is twenty years old again and I am lost in time.

Falling. Just… falling and falling. The same way I did when he came up to my shaved-ice stand the first time we met.

He opens the door and jumps in, grinning like a boy. “OK. I’m ready now. Probably not the best choice for meeting the parents, but this here outfit was my jam back in the day.”

He laughs at his joke. And I can’t help myself. I laugh too.

Then I realize… I don’t think he did this to play a game. He didn’t choose these clothes to one-up me. This really is just him. The one I met. The one I loved and hated in the span of three days. The one who inspired me to spend ten million dollars on a second chance and commit more felonies than I can count.

“What?” he says. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“These clothes,” I say.

“I know. But… your parents are still cool, right?”

“What do you mean? Still cool?”

“You told me.”

“When?”

“You know. Back then.”

“I told you about my parents?”

“Yeah. Dive shop. Grew up there. Swimming with dolphins. Mom”—he points to me—“Silvia. And Dad, Jack.” His eyes are bright now. Like he’s really happy with himself. “And your brothers.” He squints his eyes. “Alonzo.” Pauses. “Tony. And…” He snaps his fingers. “Luke.” Then he pauses again. “Weird fucking combination of names. Where the hell did Alonzo come from?”

“My grandpop,” I say. “But we call him Lonz.”

“Yeah,” Jesse says, leaning back in his seat. “Yeah. I remember that now. Your grandpop. And fuckin’ Lonz. Never met a Lonz before.”

“You looked me up in there, didn’t you?”

“What?”

“You Googled me.”

“No,” he says.

“Then how do you remember all that? Last night you had no idea who I was.”

“I dunno. It just all came back, I guess.”

“Liar,” I say. “I’m totally gonna Google your family and be all, ‘Hey, Johnny. How’s Samantha doing? Hey, Joey. How was your trip to Easter Island?’”

He laughs. “You’re insane.”

“What? That’s what you just did.”

“There’s no Samantha. And I’m one hundred percent positive Joey Boston doesn’t even know where Easter Island is.”

“Not the point. You’re cheating!”

He leans over into my personal space. Way too close, in fact. But he slides his sunglasses up onto his head, places a hand on my cheek, and says, “Emma.”

“What?”

We stare into each other’s eyes. Those goddamned blue eyes look like the ocean outside my window right now.

“I’m not cheating,” he says. “I just remembered, that’s all. You made a big impression on me. That’s what I’ve been trying to explain.”

I start shaking my head, but his palm is firm on the side of my cheek. And then he leans in even closer and says, “Besides.” He kisses me. Softly, right on the lips. Little bit of tongue. Just the right amount to encourage that tingly feeling building in my stomach. And whispers, “I can’t cheat. Because this isn’t a game,” right into my mouth.

He pulls back, slides his sunglasses down over his eyes, and says, “Let’s do this.”