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Emma
Idon’t wait on Marion. I round the corner and run smack into a hard body, but oddly, I know before I look up that it’s not Jax. This man standing in front of me doesn’t charge the air when he touches me. This man doesn’t stir a burn low in my belly. Jax does these things and when I look up, I find that this man is Randall. “What are you doing?” he demands.
“It’s the call of Mother Nature,” I say. “I went to the bathroom.”
“You’ve been gone a long time.”
“In other words, I have a time limit while peeing. Next time I’ll be more aggressive about the toilet line.”
“Don’t be a smartass,” he snaps. “I was simply worried about you.”
“Worry doesn’t sound like a reprimand. That was a reprimand.” I pull against his arm and when he lets me go, I feel relief not regret to such a degree that I wonder how I once entertained this man as my man. It was a time not so long ago, a time I feel that I was lost, when perhaps most would say now isthe time of loss, and that loss is my father. I’ve lost him, but with him, I realize I’ve lost all that I thought knew of myself.
Randall steps to my side. “I’m just trying to keep you focused,” he says. “Focusing on work keeps you from focusing on other things.”
I don’t look at him. I don’t need him to tell me what I can or can’t do in the aftermath of my father’s sudden departure from this world. From what I know, he’s now higher up the chain of command, certainly above me, perhaps more so than he even knows, but it doesn’t matter. I don’t want what he wants. I don’t want to rule the world. All I ever wanted was—something else. Something I’m not even going to let myself entertain right now.
Entering the bar again, I glance toward the table where I’d sat with Jax but find it empty. He’s gone, and I don’t know how a stranger has somehow left me so damn empty. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe I’m just facing what was already there. Maybe a man and his whiskey made me stop running from the truth. I almost laugh. I haven’t finished running at all.
“We got you back and I lost my wife,” Monroe says as we rejoin him at the table.
“I’m right here,” Marion calls out and I’m whisked back into the hell of the one drink that somehow became two. I slow my drinking and order real coffee. With caffeine, the haze of booze still present, but it shifts. Now it numbs my senses just enough to make the topics of the economy and the expansion of airlines and hotels tolerable. Funny how not that long ago, I’d have enjoyed such a conversation, once upon a time, when I wanted to please the king of our empire.
“Aren’t you opening a Bodega Bay location?” Monroe asks, looking at me.
“We are,” I say. “Whale watching, oceans, and wineries. It’s a perfect combination.”
“Are you going to open a winery to compete in the region as well?” Marion asks.
“We’re partnering with a winemaker, so yes and no,” I reply, sipping my coffee and deciding sobering up is not working for me. I need more North Whiskey. I need more Jax North.
“We’ll have to talk about a destination package,” Marion adds. “Bodega Bay and Breeze Airlines, a Knight/Roger partnership. Another perfect pairing between big named brands. Smart, don’t you think, Emma?”
A partnership that has defined much of my life in ways few could understand, but Marion looks at me with a spark of awareness in her eyes. She knows I’m not what I seem. She knows I don’t want that exposed. We both know that gives her power.
“Partnerships hold value,” I say, but I don’t add more. I want to shut her out. I need to shut her out because my past could hurt our brand. My past is blackmail material and I don’t know how to wash that away.
“We’re eager to explore any partnership with the Rogers,” Randall interjects, casting me a hard side-eye. “Perhaps we should plan a couples’ trip down there.”
Couples trip. As if he and I are a couple. That’s it. I’m done. “Speaking of which,” I say. “I have a crazy week ahead. I should hit the bed.”
“Of course, honey,” Marion chimes in. “This has been an emotional few weeks for you.”
Honey. My mother calls me honey. My mother, who Marion betrayed in ways no one should ever be betrayed.
“We should head to bed as well,” Monroe suggests, and with that, my singular escape is now gone and missed. I now must wait for the check that I’ll sign for accounting reasons and the conversation continues right up until the moment we depart from the bar.
Eternally this process continues, but finally, we stand and I endure another hug from Marion. “We’ll do that Bodega trip together. Let’s talk about it at the fireman’s charity event.”
My teeth clench and I bite back a rejection. I have no idea when that is, but I’m not going. Not if she wants to talk about a trip we take together. She leans back to study me. “A girls’ trip will be amazing. Invite your mother if you like.”
Bitch.
Such a bitch.
Such a horrible person.
I want to smack her and even with that North Whiskey in me, I don’t. I just say nothing. “Bodega is wonderful,” is all I say.
