Getting by (A Knight's Tale) (14 page)

“You want to die during those weeks,” he pointed out to Mitch. “There’s nothing edible to eat. I hate her vegan periods, but I can’t decline her invitations.”

“And at your place?” Mitch asked.

“Same, Mitch.” That reminded me I needed to cancel the fish delivery for next week. “I know better than to defy her nutritional intake.”

Whipped,
Mitch mouthed.

Shut up,
I responded to avoid Dad’s lectures to our childish displays.

“You lost me, son.” Shit, I heard Mitch chuckle. He—they played me. “How would you know what the young lady eats at home?”

“Yes, Jake, how do we know what the lovely Emma eats? Why do you have a company delivering you fresh sea food when she’s in London? Or share why you fly for the weekend to France, Geneva and Romania, Chile or wherever my creative director works,” Liam said, and fixed his position. Wasn’t he trying to sleep?

“Six feet under, Mitch,” I said, and focused on the road. The airport where we’d meet with a potential buyer for two of our planes was only two miles away. I ignored Dad’s question and Liam’s tattle telling. There was no point in discussing Emma. She belonged to the past, and after the week I’d move on.

“I’m waiting,” Dad said. We Knight’s didn’t let things go.

“She’s elevator girl, Dad.”

Edward Knight not only fathered three boys, he befriended them too. Once we moved on from the teenage stage, and his parental jurisdiction became lighter, he changed his approach. We counted on him as a father and also as a friend. After the Christmas party and the elevator incident, I told my brothers about the hot girl I met. How she was quirky, fun and breathtaking. Dad learned as much and a little more, because with him I wasn’t afraid of sounding corny or stupid. The electricity that ran through my skin when she touched me sounded like a cheap Hallmark movie. And so did the ignition I felt when part of our lips lightly touched.

I told Dad, who smiled and said it wasn’t corny, or part of one of those romance books Mom hid under the bed—her guilty pleasure. Those things happened in real life, and though at times they didn’t move past just a lustful moment, others became the start of a real story, a future and a family. He smiled when I told him about the whole “serendipity, and things happened for a reason” Emma gave me. And he wished me good luck on getting a phone number the next time
surreal happened.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” Hurt dropped from his words. “How long have you two been together?” Was it that obvious that we were together?

The freezing question paralyzed my entire body, but I was able to keep driving.
Not together, a casual fling that she ended three months ago.
I could only imagine his disappointment, for stringing such a lovely girl along. Ed Knight believed in love and long term relationships. He never approved of our one nighters, but he didn’t say much about them either. We were old enough to know better. And what would he think about Emma, for going along with a relationship like that.

I didn’t want Dad to think less of Emma. She was different and didn’t believe in complicated and heavy—as she pointed out. But she didn’t sleep around with every guy who wanted her. I knew she had only had one guy before me only because she had been afraid to encounter another experienced guy who’d laugh at her for being a virgin. Stupid girl, how I wished I had been her first—not that it really mattered.

“It’s complicated, Dad.” Cliché none the less, I put the car gear in park. We had arrived. Taking a deep breath, I continued knowing anything would be used against me. “We are no longer together, and Mom inflates everything. I didn’t want to introduce someone to the family who wouldn’t be a long term fixture.”

“Bullshit, Jake, I had breakfast with you today and my interpretation of the situation is completely different.” He pulled the door handle and got out of the car. Before he shut the door, his deep green eyes looked at me with resentment, hurt and fury. “Friends don’t lie to each other and neither does family. Our relationship is based on trust, son, are you willing to throw it away? I expect an honest story.”

I turned off the ignition, opened my own door and got out of the car. “I told you to go to the man,” Mitch said, while we walked together toward the small airport hangar. “He won’t judge, we don’t judge, Jake. You’re judging your relationship and you’re reflecting those thoughts toward us, which isn’t fair.”

Was she all wrong for me? Was that why I never let our fling become more? I judged my relationship, ashamed because—

“I’m with them,” Liam said.

Everyone supported each other, but who was with me. Not Emma. Before Em, I had Mitch and Liam, my brothers and best friends, all the family and company I needed. The game changed after elevator-airport girl disappeared, making room for Emma Anderson. Our first agreement, light and casual, worked for a few weeks. Once we exchanged names, she checked out of her hotel room and into Flat De Jake. It was cozier, roomier and the perfect accommodations to kick off our tryst. Two weeks later I flew to Boston for a business meeting and stayed with her for the weekend, in New York. A week later, Liam mentioned she’d be in France—a two hour flight. I flew my small engine there and we spent a few days together.

I saw her every two weeks, or stayed with her an entire week in New York. Nothing light and casual, who the fuck had we been kidding for the past twenty some months. Each other? Why would she end such a perfect—whatever we had? Only sex…but we shared meals, spent time together. I enjoyed the silence we created while we both worked at night next to each other, or she worked and I played an instrument. After Emma, my brothers and best friends didn’t fill the void she left at her departure. They weren’t enough to cover the black hole.

The motions of explaining the functionality of the plane, the engine, price, flying hours, fuel and all other features came simple to me. I hand chose every plane we owned, and didn’t need to prepare for our meeting or I’d be fried. Our prospective buyer wanted a discount, and he gave me the run around. My response didn’t change. I understood his position and invited him to continue his research. Our planes were safe, well maintained and fairly priced. He could go with any other asshole who would inflate the price and lower it later. I wasn’t into games, and his inflated ego would plummet to the floor along with his new plane if he made the wrong choice.

We headed to downtown San Francisco when I finished showing the plane and heard the usual words, “we’ll call you”.

Chapter 17

Jake

DURING THE DRIVE to downtown, Emma’s phone rang—Sam. I sent it to voice mail. It happened more than once. When I was about to turn off the phone, I accidentally pressed the button of favorites, and among the names she had there, Chloe’s and mine appeared. Chloe. I needed to talk to Emma before her sister talked to her. Limping man, she used to call me. I met her after my ‘accident in the Alps’.

Emma, like everyone else, believed the scar on my leg was from a freakish accident while I hiked in the Alps. Three surgeries to reconstruct my leg, physical therapy and another two to get rid of most of the scar tissue, made a difference. The scars on my chest, a freakish accident snowboarding. Only my immediate family knew what happened to me and what it took to recover, no one else knew—not even Cade. They helped me all the way through, mentally, emotionally and physically. Doctors, nurses and therapists said I was lucky not to have lost my limbs or my life. I wished I had, because for two years I limped not only physically, but also mentally. The men who trusted me and were under my command died and I got to live—I didn’t deserve to live.

Back then I believed I was a crippled hero who didn’t save anyone, nor had completed his mission. Ambushed by our target, we barely flew the scene. Wrong, I barely flew the scene. The pilot, and my second in command, who stayed on the helicopter waiting for instructions recovered my injured body and took me away. I don’t remember much from the devastating night. Everything was too easy, until the grenades and bullets made their way to us and we dropped like canaries.

“Chloe?” Mitch asked, disgusted when he saw her name. I nodded. “Gavin hit the lotto with her. Why do you have Emma’s phone?”

“She’s not feeling well,” I answered. “And she gave it to me so I could get her medicine refill. I didn’t hand it over, hoping it was a way to keep her head stress free.”

Mitch opened Chloe’s profile, and he found the picture of a little boy. “Chloe’s?” he asked. I took a quick glance while driving. The boy looked a lot like Emma. “How old do you think he is?”

“I don’t know much about children.” Not wanting to continue the discussion, I took it away from him and turned it off.

Did Emma have a nephew? What if instead, the child was hers? The boy looked like an infant…not mine, I would know. With a sigh, I moved on from the subject and concentrated on the road ahead of me. Dad rode in the back with Liam. They shared a light conversation regarding a new wine, which he wanted to sell around Christmas time, and the possibility of my brother designing the label and marketing it. Li suggested Emma for the job because his schedule wouldn’t let him work on anything new for the next couple of months. Clients always came first, unless we had an emergency, and that went for each and every one of us. Without any reason, he asked for someone else, to which I responded, without hesitation, to take Emma. I killed three birds with the same bullet. She needed the extra work, it would take her away from New York and she was the company’s best resource. Even when my logic seemed bias, Dad agreed to give her a chance if Liam endorsed her. I read between the lines—my opinion meant nothing. Dad being pissed wasn’t much compared to what Mom would be bringing later. I could feel the full blown drama coming to me. Would it be today, or would she wait until we left for New York to read me my rights?

A cell phone ring tone broke Liam’s conversation with Dad. “Sam.” His tone changed to annoyed as he answered the call. “Why should I know? I’m not her babysitter.” The ass had called her four times in the past half hour and texted her several more. “She’s on vacation, right?” I checked the rearview mirror and noticed he rubbed his temples and closed his eyes. “Fire her then, not my problem. Though remember, there’s a clause in her contract; you fire her and she keeps the sign-in bonus. Yeah, you too.”

I wanted to defend her but kept driving before I damaged another relationship. Liam tried his best to shield Emma. He did it for her, for the business. There wasn’t a point in discussing anything further while the solution lay in front of me and I was behaving like a teenager avoiding his responsibilities and not wanting to confront the consequences. Help her open a company and deal with her for life, or not. We arrived at the bridal store and I found a parking spot right in front of it. Emma didn’t look happy, mirroring my mood. A trip to her hotel room would take the edge off the celebrations and release the tension from both of us. Or a trip back home—her studio, my flat. Two days down, five more to go.

I wanted out.
Why am I here?
Because we were Cade’s closest relatives. Mom didn’t want to disappoint her late sister, and I understood. I’d do the same for Liam or Mitch’s kids. However, having Emma close and not being able to kiss her, touch her and be with her drove me nuts. A long term relationship between Emma and my brother as partners sounded great twelve hours ago. But with Liam’s hypothesis looming on the horizon, it made me want to put a guy on duty to scare assholes away from her—forever.
She’s not yours, Jacob, never yours. Light and casual.

*

“You o.k.?” I asked. She shook her head and walked a little slower than her usual. I picked a Japanese steak house for lunch. Everyone seemed content with my choice. Lightly, I pulled her away from the group and walked her outside the restaurant, while the others stayed waiting for a table. The need to be her hero and protect her took over me. “Talk, is it Mom?”

“She’s a meddler, that one. I can see the resemblance between the two of you,” Emma responded, her lip lightly curved, and a ghostly smile snuck on those pouty lips. I missed them. “Though she knows when to back up, so Brownie points for her. This whole wedding is the worst decision I’ve made in the last twenty three years. Scenario, ready?” She waited for me to nod before continuing her story. “Door number one: filled with former high school fake-friends who have the happy life, and pity you.
I hate pity.
Door number two: with my oldest friend pimping me with everyone on her invite list, including girls; in case I’m hiding in the closet—her words. Like I need some help to date, which I don’t. It’s a choice.”

Emma crinkled her nose, skipping one step because I held both of her hands. “I hate pimping.” She repeated it with clenched teeth and a tight jaw. “Door number three: Tina Smith crying because Mom won’t see me getting married. P-l-e-e-a-s-e, like anyone would give a shit about me and want to marry me.”
Marriage?
I didn’t move, but wanted to step away because that word was forbidden in my dictionary.

“Which brings a whole new game; my parents, and well my life, which I’m trying to fix and can’t, you know.” She closed her eyes. “It’s just too freaking hard. And behind door number four: a few women—former friends of Mom—gossiping about my parents’ deaths. Overload much? Nothing made them go away, my teleportation powers didn’t work, nor did the laser beam.”

She was silent, waiting for me to say something, and I blurted out what came first. “People give more than a shit about you, Emma.” She didn’t look at me, her body tensed. “Why wouldn’t they?”

“If people got to know the real me, they wouldn’t like me,” she whispered. I looked expectant, because she needed to get whatever it was out of her system. For me it would be simpler to tell her that getting to know her made me care so much it was unreal. But I held my tongue. “Don’t tell anyone, please.” I nodded, and lifted my finger to pinky promise. She linked her pinky and we each kissed it. It was something she taught me long ago. I didn’t let go of her hands, even when she pulled hard enough to retrieve them. Emma took a deep breath, closed her eyes and began to narrate her story. The low voice, barely audible, pained me.