Chapter Six

Emmett

I click my phone off, smiling triumphantly at how I coaxed Jenna into dinner, and finish wrapping up the day’s work. My good mood is even better because my best friend and I finally settled on plans to grab a drink tonight. Between my insane hours and Jesse trying to juggle work with family, we haven’t met up in a couple of weeks, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to be late.

I drive to Nealy’s Bar, park at the curb, and stroll into the underlit den of neon with its peeling varnish and lingering scent of tobacco. This place is a first-degree shithole, but it’s also one of our old college hangouts, so even though we both can afford much better now, we still visit from time to time for sentimental reasons.

I walk over to where Jesse is already sitting at the sticky bar and clap him on the shoulder. “Hey, glad I could drag you out.”

Jesse swivels around on his stool with a wide grin. “It’s been too long, man. I almost forgot what you look like.”

I pull out my wallet and reach past Jesse to slap my credit card on the counter, which gets the bartender’s attention. “I’m here now and you’re stuck with me, so let’s drink.”

We order and pay at the bar, grab our cheap domestic brews, and head to a corner table where we can hear ourselves think over the jukebox wailing country music.

Jesse takes a long drink and smiles as he sets the bottle down. “Damn, that’s good. I mean, I know it’s practically horse piss, but somehow it tastes so much better when you’re out of the house, right?”

“Well, it’s sure not the company,” I say, taking a slug of my own beer.

“Fuck you,” Jesse says with a smile. “So, how’s the high-powered bachelor lifestyle?”

I snort. “Like a tax attorney doesn’t know how it feels to have money.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. Come on,” he says, “let a poor family man live vicariously through you. Who’s the flavor of the month this time?”

This ribbing is a game as old as Jesse’s marriage. He likes to joke about how my life must be so easy and fun, just one big party, but I’ve seen how he worships the ground his wife and kids walk on.

“We both know damn well you’d never trade places with me.”

He shrugs. “Who says I want to? All I’m asking for is a quick peek at the sweet life. And the only thing I like more than a good dirty story is annoying you.”

I play along by heaving an exaggerated sigh of annoyance. “Well, if you insist, but it’s just the usual debauchery. Fast cars, fast women, snorting coke off the copy machine, keg stands on the conference table.”

That gets a laugh out of him. “You’re right, I shouldn’t have asked. Falling asleep here.”

I chuckle, dropping the fake tone. “Really, it’s been the same old grind. I’m still up to my eyeballs in contract negotiations. That little bookstore downtown we’re trying to buy still won’t give us the time of day. You know, the regular shit I always bore you with.” I can’t resist adding, “Although I do have a date tomorrow night.”

Jesse bounces his eyebrows at me. “A date? I didn’t know you still bothered wining and dining women before screwing them. Picking up sorority girls in bars seems more your style.”

I chuckle into my beer. “For your information, asshole, I go on real dates all the time. They just don’t result in girlfriends.”

For a moment, I consider dropping the subject and not revealing anything else. But Jesse is my best friend. I don’t like lying to him. Plus, I have to have someone to talk to about this, and I know he won’t meddle.

As casually as possible, I say, “Actually . . . can you keep a secret?”

“I hope so. Confidentiality is kind of an important part of the whole attorney gig,” he replies. “What’s on your mind?”

“It’s kind of a funny story. So this woman I’m going out with—Jenna’s her name—you know how I met her? Last week we got stuck in an elevator together in my building. And I found out she’s trying to start a family, so I offered to help her.”

Jesse’s beer stops halfway to his lips. “Help . . . how?” he says slowly.

“How do you think? You have two kids, dude, I know you know how they’re made. You know, the birds and the bees and baby makes three, although this baby is only going to make two.”

Staring at me like I just grew another head, Jesse carefully lowers his glass to the table. “This better be a bad joke.” His voice is absolutely flat.

I shake my head. “She wants to have a baby, I happen to own a well-endowed and functioning set of baby-production equipment, so she’s going to use me to get pregnant. Simple,” I say, then I almost rupture something trying not to laugh at the way Jesse’s eyes widen.

“Have you lost your damn mind?” he hisses at me in an undertone like we’re discussing state secrets. “What in the actual fuck were you thinking?”

I give him a weird look. “That I would . . . do a lady a favor and get laid at the same time?”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Never mind, it doesn’t matter. I’m sure your big head wasn’t the one doing the thinking anyway. But before your little head goes within a mile of this Jenna woman, you need to have her sign a paternity affidavit, work out custody, get—”

I hold up my hand to shield myself from Jesse’s lawyer-mode frenzy. “What? No, dude, you know me. I don’t want anything to do with this kid, and she doesn’t want that either. It’s not going to be a big deal.”

“Don’t ‘dude’ me,” Jesse huffs. “You’re thirty-eight. You might change your mind about settling down.”

“And give up all this?” I gesture around us at the dive bar in all its dim, seedy glory.

It was a joke and he knows it, but he gives me a withering look anyway. “Oh yes, of course not. Because the novelty will definitely never, ever wear off of booty calls with twenty-year-olds. Alternating sleeping alone with wondering if you’ve contracted an STD is so much fun.”

I roll my eyes. “That happened one time, and the test came out negative.”

“Just shut up and listen to me for a second. Whether you want to be a dad or not, you still need paperwork either way, and you need it ASAP. Thank God you said something to me before you fucked her.”

“Would you relax?” I snap. His panic is starting to piss me off, especially the way he talks about Jenna. It’s like he thinks I can’t be trusted—or he thinks she can’t, despite not knowing the first thing about her. “I have this under control.”

He takes a deep breath and lets it whoosh out in a loud sigh. “Okay, okay, I’ll try to chill. But, seriously, what if she changes her mind and comes after you later?”

“I’m telling you she won’t do that,” I grumble. I trust Jenna. She knows what she wants, and it’s not my money.

Jesse still looks completely unconvinced, but he nods. “Well, if you’re sure this is what you want . . . please let me at least draft some contracts to protect you, just in case. You waive your right to custody, she waives your obligation to provide child support, you both agree to mutual nondisclosure, basic stuff like that. I’ll email you everything so you and Jenna can both sign them.”

After taking a sip of my beer, I give him a noncommittal grunt. “Send whatever you want. I’ll take a look at it if it makes you feel better.”

Jesse smirks, knowing he’s won. “They’ll be in your in-box by noon tomorrow.”

I shake my head at him, smiling despite myself. Stubborn bastard . . . There’s a reason why we’ve stayed best friends for so many years. “Enough about all that. Tell me what’s new with Sheri and the kids.”

“Nothing really. It’s all good, though. Most nights by the time I get home, it’s to catch the tail end of Finding Nemo with the kids conked out on the couch, and Sheri almost right behind them. So I bring her a glass of wine and we sit together for a little while before putting everyone to bed.”

“Half-asleep wine-drinking watching Finding Nemo in a pile of rug rats? How romantic,” I say dryly.

Jesse shrugs, grinning. “Parents grab their romance where they can find it.”

We chat for a while longer, catching up on work and other topics while eating stale pretzels, and order a second beer. Jesse is my oldest friend in the world, and it’s relaxing just being in the company of someone who gets you.

Finally, he drains the last of his beer and stands up. “I should probably get going. Thanks for the beer, man. Let’s do this again soon.”

I get up to pull him in for a hearty handshake and a parting pat on the back. “Definitely.”

• • •

I didn’t take our conversation to heart at first. Whatever he sends me tomorrow, I’ll read over and sign. I’m not worried about Jenna wanting anything more from me than what my body can give her. But on the way home, driving alone through dark streets, I start to mull over more deeply how different our lives are.

This isn’t the first time talking to Jesse has made me think about family. He complains a lot about being a father—too many responsibilities, not enough quality time with his wife, the shenanigans his kids get into—but I can tell it’s all just good-natured bitching. He and Sheri are the picture of wedded bliss, smitten since the day they met, and the only things they love more than each other are their two munchkins.

What Jesse has seems to work well for him. But for me . . .

It would never work. I’m all business, all the time—my job demands everything from me. If I ever did marry, it would end up turning into a rerun of my parents’ mistakes. My workaholic, emotionally constipated father left Mom so lonely, she went hunting for affection from any man who’d look twice at her. And when the midlife crisis hit, Dad started having his own affairs too, and eventually traded Mom in for a younger model. It was one big ugly cliché—the CEO fucking his secretary, his wife fucking the pool boy, their three kids left in the lurch—and I don’t care to repeat the cycle.

Even if my hypothetical wife didn’t mind that I worked all the time and didn’t fuck the pool boy, who’s to say that we wouldn’t just tire of each other. Or fight all the time. Or end up hating each other as much as my parents do. It’s just not worth it. I’m not cut out for it.

I would never say this to his face, but deep down, I suspect Jesse and Sheri are a fluke. A freak accident of probability. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, human hearts aren’t strong enough to bear the weight of careers, children, stress, the plain old boring grind of daily life. Love is only a temporary delirium, and sooner or later, reality and its demands will start eating away at the happiness. Cracks will appear and spread in whatever you try to build. And the inevitable collapse of wedded bliss . . . what’s the point of doing that to myself? To anyone I care about?

Better not to begin at all. Better, easier, to just stay alone.

The silence of my darkened penthouse greets me. The large, empty space is a little chilly after my long day out. I walk to the hall thermostat, flipping on lights as I go, and turn up the heat. Then I double back to check the fridge. There’s no real point in cooking for one, especially not at this hour, when I’m already tired. A quick dinner will do. I grab some bread and cold cuts, nudge the fridge door shut with my foot, and throw together a sandwich.

Then I pause, considering the plate in my hand. The food doesn’t look great, to put it mildly. The thought of eating suddenly strikes me as unappealing. Hmm . . . maybe dredging up old childhood memories made me lose my appetite. Fuck it, I’ll just shower and go to sleep. I put plastic wrap on the plate and stick it in the fridge for later.

I undress and step into the steaming spray with a hiss, then a sigh of pleasure. The scalding water is just the thing to relax me. But rather than calm me down like I planned, it gets my blood pumping, and my thoughts turn toward what I have waiting for me tomorrow night.

Jenna . . .

I’m more than ready for a little time with her. Hell, as long as there’s a lot of orgasms, I’m not at all concerned with how long it takes.

My cock twitches with interest. I let my hand drift down, over my chest and abs, following the path of the trickling water. In less than twenty-four hours, Jenna will be the one caressing me like this. Exploring me. And I’ll get to do the same to her, map every inch of that incredible body, find out what pleases her best. I’ll give her screaming orgasms until she melts into a sweaty, satisfied mess.

I can’t fucking wait.

Within a minute, I’m already fully hard, and I stifle a moan at the first stroke. God, I’m so ready for her. What I wouldn’t give to have Jenna in the shower with me right now, naked and wet, her curves flushed with heat. I’d press her up against the tile wall and find out what her pussy tastes like . . .

But all that will happen tomorrow, not now. Not yet. And until then, I shouldn’t blow my load early. Biting my lip, I force myself to drop my hand and ignore the ache of frustrated lust in my groin. I want to save it all for her.

As I shampoo my hair, I smirk. One thing I know for sure . . .

I’m going to rock her world tomorrow.