Emmett’s “vacation home” is more like a mansion. Located on a beach, it has two pools and hot tubs and walls with enormous windows to maximize a gorgeous view of the Pacific.
I look around the place like a gawking tourist, taking in everything from the cool marble floors to the walls in a shade somewhere between cream and peach. The furniture is mainly ivory, with teal and yellow accents. A spiral staircase sits to the left, and a huge open kitchen to the right. Straight ahead of me is a giant deck.
I walk out onto the deck and have to put a hand over my eyes despite my sunglasses. The sky is cloudless and an absolutely perfect blue. A gentle breeze carries the scent of salt and ocean. The water moves constantly, reflecting the sun from every possible angle.
Placing my hands on the warm wooden balustrade, I practice some deep breathing. It’s like emotional toxins that I didn’t know were accumulating inside me are being expelled with every exhalation.
“Enjoying the scene?” Emmett says, a smile in his voice. He walks up next to me and looks out at the ocean.
“Love it. I can totally see why Dad wants the view.”
“He’s thinking about retiring in La Jolla?”
I shake my head. “No, way too pricey. Florida. He loves the beaches there after living in a landlocked state for so long. And he deserves it. He’s done so much.”
I shoot Emmett a smile, then take a quick selfie to send to Dad.
“For a woman who doesn’t do social media, you seem to take selfies
pretty seriously,” Emmett says.
“No, it’s this thing I have with my dad. He doesn’t like it when I send him emojis. Says he prefers to see my face.” I smile. “And I like to make him happy. It’s the least I can do. How about your father?” I ask, stepping over the boundaries into a more personal territory. I know I shouldn’t, especially after telling Emmett repeatedly this is just a sex-only fling. But I can’t seem to stop myself. Maybe it’s because Emmett’s looking at me like every word out of my mouth is fascinating. Or maybe it’s the view. Or maybe it’s this weird tingling sensation in my soul that feels regenerative.
“Well…” Emmett shrugs. “He bought us Maseratis and Lamborghinis, but doesn’t expect any selfies in return. I think he’d be horrified if we started doing that.” Another shrug.
“So your Lamborghini was from him?”
“The one I’ve got now? Hell no. I bought myself a new one. Mom took the old one, even though I told her I’d buy her whatever she wanted.” His expression softens. “She did a lot for me.”
“Oh.” I don’t know what to say. It feels weird to hear someone talk about his mother as a person who’s capable of putting somebody else’s needs first. I mean, I know such moms must exist, but the idea seems sort of surreal. Like a lottery everyone but me can win.
But Emmett takes my “oh” as an encouragement to continue.
“She gave up on love because she kept falling in love with poor guys.”
That sounds kind of gold-diggerish, but there’s probably more to the story.
“Dad’s child support was set to end when she married someone,” Emmett adds.
“You’re a little old for child support…”
“I mean in the past. Now… Yeah, she thinks love isn’t going to happen for her at this point. There was a painter in Paris she loved when I was in high school, but they broke up because he wanted to marry her, and she couldn’t. When he got engaged to somebody else, she was devastated, although she did her best to hide it.” He sighs, then shrugs like he’s not going to let it bother him.
“That sounds awful.” His mom’s struggle is like my dad’s—giving up what could make her happy to provide a better life for her child. “But there are billions of men out there. She can find one who’s right for her.”
The smile on his face is a little tight. “Maybe, if she can find someone who can look past her rep. Social media makes it hard to keep your private affairs private.”
He’s standing in sunlight with a gorgeous backdrop, but there’s a hint of melancholy. My heart aches for him and his mother. I always thought if you had the kind of money Emmett does, life would be easy. Good things just rolling into your lap while you wipe your nonexistent tears with hundred-dollar bills.
Knowing that he has worries and feelings like everyone else makes him seem a hundred times more approachable.
I place my palm over his cheek and go up on my toes. My lips find his in a soft, loving kiss, barely brushing against each other, while we share the same air, endlessly, achingly.
Our hearts seem to beat in unison. Heat rises, but there’s much more underneath. Something infinitely sweet and lovely that I don’t dare put a name to because it’s too scary. Too life-changing.
This is just for a few weeks until I go off to another state, three time zones away from SoCal.
Emmett lifts me and takes me upstairs, where we hold each other and make slow, gentle love that breaks my soul.