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“Yeah, sure,” I say, knowing I shouldn’t, but I can’t say no to her. After the day she’s had, I don’t want her to be alone either. We sit on the couch, and I hand her the remote. “You choose.”
“Really?” Gemma acts surprised.
“Why not? It was your idea.” I glance over at her, and she seems to be thinking about something else before she flips through the channels.
She settles onYou’ve Got Mailwith Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan from the 90s. “This okay?”
“It’s perfect,” I say, not really caring as long as I get to spend time with her. I shouldn’t get excited to see her and be close to her, but I can’t help it. She’s only a few inches away, and by the way she tenses, I think she notices too.
I finally laugh and shake my head.
“What?” She looks at me.
“It feels like old times when we’d stay up late and watch a movie together on your couch. I’d supply the booze and hope your dad didn’t burst into the cottage and catch us.” I chuckle and watch as she tucks loose strands of hair behind her ear.
She nods. “Yeah, it is kinda like that, isn’t it? Except now we don’t have to sneak in the alcohol.” She hiccups and covers her mouth with a giggle, which makes me smile. “Too much tequila. Everleigh makes them strong.”
“Adulting at its finest.”
We get to the part in the movie where Meg Ryan goes to the bookstore that’s going to ruin her business, and Gemma puts her hand over her heart as she intently watches the scene unfold. Though I’m certain she’s seen this, her reactions are cute. Honestly, she’s more interesting than this movie, but I force myself to focus on the screen. Even if it’s hard as hell.
She repeats the lines, and I snort. Why does she have to be so fucking adorable? It makes keeping her at a distance so damn hard—harder than I ever thought was possible.
When Gemma bites her bottom lip, I’m tempted to pull her into my arms and kiss the fuck out of her. Kiss her worries away. Tell her she doesn’t have to marry that douchebag if she doesn’t want to, that sheshouldn’t. But I don’t want to send her mixed signals. While I wish she were mine, I’d inevitably fuck it upagain. She’s too good for Robert, but if I’m being honest, she’s too good for me, too.
Gemma would do anything for anyone, and she loves with every part of her being. Robert wanting her to quit her job because of me nearly has a blood vessel bursting, but I bury the anger and keep my feelings to myself. Something I’ve perfected over the years.
It’s obvious Gemma isn’t having “cold feet.” The woman has always gone after what she wants. Considering everything that’s happened over the past few weeks with her and Robert, it’s obvious there’s more to this. She has to ultimately make the final decision, but I don’t want it to be because of me. I want her to call off the wedding because she realizes she won’t be happy with him. I’m well-aware that Robert has a lot of money, but I also know material possessions don’t buy love. Nothing can.
“Gemma,” I say as she leans her head against the couch. We’re so close.Too close. I can smell her shampoo every time she brushes loose strands of hair out of her face. “He didn’t lay his hands on you, did he?”
I shouldn’t be asking. I shouldn’t get involved, but I care about her—sometimes too fucking much. She tucks her lips into her mouth and looks up at me with big green eyes. “He was trying to make me stay, Tyler. He wasn’t trying to hurt me.”
“You’re positive about that?” I ask. I’ve heard women say that before, but I’m trying to give her the benefit of the doubt.
“Yes. I wouldn’t put up with it otherwise. He’s not like that,” she reassures.
“Alright, good,” I say. “If you need boxing lessons and want to learn how to take someone down in ten seconds flat, just say the word.”
She laughs. “Did you forget who my brother is?”
The thought of Noah brings the mood to a somber place.
“Nah. But I also know you’ve gotten rusty at kicking dudes in the balls. Though…” I grin. “When you were younger, you were a goddamn pro.”
Her head falls back with laughter. “I was a little shit, wasn’t I?”
“Everyone knew not to mess with you, Katie, or Everleigh because y’all were a bunch of little scrappers. Or because I threatened to kick anyone’s ass who messed with my little sister and her friends.” I chuckle thinking about it.
“I didn’t take anyone’s crap back then, and trust me when I say I’m not going to take it now. I’m okay, Tyler. But thank you. If I’m ever not okay, I’ll mention it.”
“Is that a promise?” I push.
“Yes.” She turns back to the movie and squeezes my arm. “Oh, this is my favorite part.”
Tom Hanks walks past the coffee shop and sees Meg Ryan inside, then goes in and pretends not to be the man on the other end of their messenger conversation.
“This would never happen nowadays,” I say, very aware of how close she is to me now.
