It’s dark outside when I startle awake, a naked Angel at my side. Her breathing remains even, so at least I didn’t intrude on her sleep this time. Easing my arm out from under her, I pull on a pair of shorts, wipe the sweat from my brow and head for the kitchen where I do a healthy pour of whiskey. After taking a fortifying swallow, savoring the burn as it slides down my throat, I pad onto the balcony.

Below, the pool is lit but the other apartments are dark. Shunting the nightmare into a dark corner, my mind wanders back to the party last night. Everyone at Complete was trying so hard. It was just—trying. So many people, all of whom shared their stories about Three. I know they wanted to connect with me through her, but it was too much. By the time I got back to the apartment, I had shut down. And then there was Emilie.

My light.

She always looks on the bright side.

The eternal optimist to my reclusive side.

I probably shouldn’t have been so dominant with her, but I had to reassert some sort of control after that fucked-up party. My mouth quirks, remembering the way her accent became more pronounced when she begged me for release, and I take another hit of the whiskey. She’s an amazing woman who tames the worst in me.

I shouldn’t have called her my girlfriend even though I know the term made her night. My nightmare proves to me, again, that I don’t deserve her. But I can’t let her go.

I finish off my whiskey and return to the kitchen for a refill. When it’s gone, the warmth eases my chest like when I’m playing with the pups at Vets for Military Dogs, so it should be okay to go back to sleep. I’ve been so caught up in Emilie’s schedule that I haven’t had time to volunteer lately. Maybe that’s why the demons have returned with such vengeance? In any event, the whiskey should hold off the nightmares for another night.

The ringing of a cell phone pulls me out of my slumber. It isn’t mine. Next to me, Ems jumps out of bed and rushes to her purse, fumbling with her phone. I rest my head on my hands, enjoying the view.

“Bonjour, Monsieur Price.”

Adrenaline races through my body. There’s something off about this guy. Her tone of voice confirms my suspicions.

“Tonight?” Emilie looks at me, then to the floor. “No. I cannot.” A beat later, she says, “I have plans. I told you this when we had our meeting the other day.”

So he wants to send her out on another appearance tonight? Good excuse for me to miss FPU’s anniversary party.

She sighs. “I know that Geonna—”

I push off the headboard and sit up. My protective side wants to rip the phone away from her and fight her battle. But it’s just that—her battle. Whatever she decides will be fine with me. I encourage her with a smile.

As she listens to her boss, her eyes flick from me to the ceiling. Her back gets straighter. She could be a warrior princess, given how she’s carrying herself. Is she even aware she’s naked? My cock sure is.

“I appreciate that. But my answer is still no. Brandan will have to find someone else to go with. Yes, Sunday through Wednesday are fine. And I have been running my lines for the Thursday movie filming.”

She disconnects the call and tosses her phone back into her purse. I flip the sheet down. “Your standing up to your boss was fucking hot, Ems.”

Ems lets out a huff and then levels me with a smirk. “I was pretty kickass, no?”

I chuckle. “Oui, you sure were.”

She struts to the bed. “Oh, I got a French word out of you, Wills.”

Christ. The way she says my name makes my cock stand to painful attention. She licks her lips and walks toward the bed. Her hand closes around my erection, causing me to suck in my breath. “I’m proud of how you handled him,” I manage to get out.

She bends to within an inch of my cock, which jumps in his eagerness. “Let me see if I can make you even more proud.”

And she does.

Emilie hands me the keys to lock up her house. She insisted on dropping by to change into something more “appropriate” for an anniversary party despite having brought three outfits to my apartment. She stands on her front stoop in a sleeveless pink dress and hair piled on top of her head. Instead of my favorite stilettos, she’s wearing low heels that have a strap around the back of her heels. Still sexy.

“You look beautiful.” Handing her the house keys, which she gracefully deposits into her purse while holding a wrapped gift, we return to my Jeep. “Are you sure you want to go? There’s still time to change your mind.”

She laughs. “I am honored to be your date. I have missed so many of my own family parties.”

Shit. I can’t deny her anything, especially when she couches it like that. I’m too wired to let her drive and since she doesn’t ask, I guide her to the passenger side and devour her lips for sustenance. Not able to delay any longer, I force myself into the driver’s side and start the trek to my parents’ house.

She prattles on about how excited she is to meet my parents. “Ems, don’t be surprised if they treat you like a prize to be shown off to their friends.”

“I am sure you are exaggerating. How long has it been since you have seen them?”

I shrug. “I don’t remember. Christmas, I guess.”

“That was over eight months ago! I bet they will be happy to see you. Your mother said so.”

I exhale a long breath. “Whatever.”

“Wills, promise me you will give them a chance. For me.” She grabs my hand and raises it to her lips, dropping a kiss on the back of it. When I remain silent, she squeezes.

“Fine. I promise to give them a chance, for you. But at the first sign of aggression from FPU, we’re out of there.”

“You will be surprised, you will see.”

My gut tells me it’s she who will be surprised, but I keep my assessment to myself and continue driving. When we stop at a traffic light near my parents’ home, I say, “Okay, we’re almost there.” Ems adjusts her posture and becomes very interested in the passing scenery.

My family lives in a typical middle-class neighborhood. The houses are relatively close together and small. Nothing like the neighborhood she lives in, filled with gracious lots and mansions. As the disparity between Ems and me comes into sharp focus, my chest constricts.

“It is so lovely in here. Reminds me of where I grew up before Maman and Papa moved us to a flat in Paris proper.”

At a stop sign a block from my family home, I switch the blinker. Even though no one’s coming, I can’t bring myself to make the final turn.

“Is everything alright?”

Blankly, I look at the woman sitting next to me. “Huh?”

“We have been sitting here for a while. Even I could have made the turn.” She giggles.

I force a small smile. “Oh,” I say, clearing my throat. “Yeah. We’re almost there.” After turning, I take it slow past my old neighbors’ houses. Cars line the dead end road. Looks like my parents went all out.

Driving around, I find a spot across the street and a few houses down from the old homestead. When we’re parked, I look in her direction. She’s animated—her foot is tapping and fingers playing an imaginary tune on her arm. At least one of us is excited.

Before more animosity can fester, I unbuckle my seat belt. Stepping out of the Jeep, I go to Ems’s side and open her door. She reaches out and I take her hand in mine. As our skin touches, a prickle of electricity runs up my arm and she emits a low gasp. Not pausing to consider what this means, I tamp down my body’s reaction and help her out.

“Merci,” she says, while reaching back to retrieve the gift she brought. She adjusts her dress. “Do I look alright to meet your family?”

Two glaring problems with her last sentence hit me upside the head. “Ems, it is impossible for you to look just ‘alright.’” I don’t share the second issue—meeting my family should be their honor, not hers. I keep my lips shut, biting the inside of my cheek.

I slip on my blazer and pick up the anniversary gift she insisted I buy. What do you get the couple who is above everyone? Liquor.

I fiddle with the wrapping that the customer service rep did for me and realize I forgot to buy a card. “Fuck,” I mutter.

Looking around, Ems squeaks, “What is it? Are the paparazzi here?”

Another disparity between us bites me on my ass. Her life is reporters and red carpets. Mine is forgotten cards and dead ends.

I shake my head. “Believe me, you’re safe from them here. I forgot to pick up an anniversary card.”

She releases her breath. “Wait here.” She scurries back to the passenger side, opens the door and pulls something out of her big tote bag. I didn’t notice that she’s now carrying a little purse. “I was not sure.” She holds up an envelope. “I could not decide, so I bought two.”

“You have an extra anniversary card?”

She nods. “Oui.” She extends the card toward me.

I don’t deserve this woman, but I’m grateful for her save. Otherwise I would have written my name directly on the wrapping paper, surely earning some snarky comment from my father. Not that having a card will save me from one.

“Thanks.” I take the card and scribble my name.

She beams at me. “Which one is yours?” Emilie motions toward the row of houses.

Pointing to a two-story white house with black shutters, I reply, “That one.” The lawn looks greener than ever and is nary a hair above dear FPU’s strict height requirement. Terracotta planters with perfectly-manicured topiaries sit on either side of the white front door. No weeds dare grow in between the pavers on the driveway and front walk. It’s sterile. Austere. Like its occupants.

“It looks so nice and welcoming.”

I glance at her. “Welcoming is not a word ever associated with this house.” I better remind her of the game plan, my promise notwithstanding. “Listen, Ems, let’s just go in, say hi and then get out as quickly as possible.”

“I will follow your lead.” She reaches up to the back of my neck and fixes my collar. “There. Now you are perfect.”

“Thanks.” I’m not perfect. Not by a long shot.

Together, we cross the street and walk up the paver walkway. Arriving at the front door, I debate whether I should ring the doorbell or just go inside. Heavy footfalls from behind us cause me to step behind Ems, my heartrate accelerating.

“Hey, is that you, Wills?”

Still protecting Emilie—although I’m sure this is not someone out to hurt her, I turn and come face-to-face with my former football coach, now the town’s mayor. Of course he’d be invited—FPU always must hobnob with the “elite.” Sticking my hand out, I say, “Mayor Larsen.”

He grips my hand and gives it an unnecessarily firm shake. “Wills. I’ll be damned. Haven’t seen you around these parts in ages.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Yeah? You’ll have to tell me all about it.”

Emilie clears her throat. Shit. I step aside and make the awkward introduction.

“Nice to meet you, Emilie. It is Emilie, right?” Winking at me, my former coach-turned-mayor says, “Let’s get you two inside. I’m sure your father will be delighted that you’re here.”

I manage not to roll my eyes at him as he breezes by us and walks right into the house. Motioning for Emilie to go ahead of me, I cross the threshold right behind her. Immediately, my hands start to sweat. I rub them up and down my charcoal colored slacks, reminding myself that I’m now a twenty-eight-year-old business owner—not a kid who refused to go into the Marines.

People are everywhere. In the dining room to my left, they walk around the table filled with chafing dishes. To my right in the formal living room, they sit on the furniture Three and I never were allowed to even look at. In front of me in the family room, they huddle around the mantle lined with framed photos of my family members in uniform. Grandpa, FPU and Three all stand at attention.

A table at the side of the dining room is set up with my parents’ wedding photo and an old photo of the four of us from when I was twelve. Guests have left their gifts there, so Ems and I place ours in the pile. Emilie grabs my hand, rubbing her thumb over the back of my palm. “Do you see your parents?”

My tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth. Swallowing to try to dislodge it, I shake my head.

“Let us find them.”

She propels me forward next to her, making her way toward the family room. The kitchen is to the left. Mom will be in there. She always is.

Before we even make it all the way into the family room, Mayor Larsen pops back in front of us, leading FPU. “I told you he was here,” the jovial mayor spouts, beer in hand.

When he spies me, he pulls up to his full height and addresses his “illustrious” guest. “Thanks, Mayor. I appreciate you letting me know.”

My hand closes ever harder around Emilie’s. FPU looks my girlfriend up and down. When he cannot find fault with her—who could?—his eyes lock on our intertwined hands. I loosen my grip. Can’t let him see how he affects me.

“Hi. I’m Brent.” He extends his hand toward Emilie, causing her to let go of my hand.

I should be doing the introductions. Before she opens her lips, I jump in, “This is Emilie.” No need to give her last name or her status. He doesn’t deserve it. She shakes his hand and returns hers to mine. No European double kiss. While I’m processing this fact, she squeezes my hand as if to give me strength.

He dips his head once. “William.”

I mirror his head bob in greeting, but don’t utter a word.

He returns his attention to Emilie. “So, what do you do? Help around the gym?” Although the words seem innocent enough, the sneer with which they’re delivered is unmistakable. He thinks she’s a dumb blonde. And my newest career choice is unworthy of the Sumner name, even if Three did start it.

My mind is a blank and going a mile a minute, all at once. Ems squeezes my hand again. “Monsieur Sumner, I can only wish to work with Wills at Complete someday. It is a lovely gym, filled with great people. But, for right now, my job takes me away from LA so I cannot commit.”

FPU snorts. I close my eyes, feeling the pressure build within my body. I don’t have to defend myself from this asshole, but he can’t cross the line and look down his pointy nose at Ems. “Emilie is a—”

Before I can put him in his place by announcing he’s in the presence of a true supermodel, not some minor, wannabe “celebrity” politician like the mayor, Mom interrupts. “Wills! I heard you came. We’re so happy you made it, aren’t we Brent?”

Mom gives me an open-armed hug, and I pat her back. She turns and looks at my date, blinks once, then puts her hand in front of her mouth. Eyes wide, she turns to FPU, then back to Ems. “Mom, may I introduce Emilie. Emilie, my mother, Molly.”

“Enchanté.”

Mom mouths the French word. FPU clears his throat and she startles as if remembering her manners. Extending her hand, she says, “How nice to meet you. Are you really dating my son? I mean, I saw a magazine photo of the two of you together, but I thought it was just,” she waves her hand, “you know.”

Can this be any more uncomfortable? “We’re dating, Mom.” Why did I confess this to her like I’m a teenager?

Next to me, Ems beams. Despite this situation, my gut—or somewhere slightly south—tightens.

“My son is dating a supermodel. How amazing.” She looks at Emilie. “You need a drink, dear. Come with me and I’ll show you what we have.” She takes Ems by the arm and drags her away from me, making sure to stop by everyone between here and the kitchen to show off her latest social trophy.

“You’re really dating a supermodel?”

I force my fist to open. “Yes.”

“Does she know how to read?”

I close my eyes and count backward from ten. “She’s literate and fluent in at least four languages. Three more than you.”

He shrugs. “Better enjoy her while you can, then. Women like that don’t stay tied down to gym rats for long.”

My teeth grind together but I concentrate on keeping my hands open. I can’t let loose on him. No matter how much he deserves it. Too many people are around. Besides, I promised Ems I’d try.

“So I heard you bought out David. He’s heading out of town in a couple of weeks, and you’ll be running Addie’s gym.”

Having nothing to add, I nod.

“Addie created a real positive environment over there. Like everything she did, she put her whole heart into it. Think you can do her justice?”

I can’t let his nasty innuendos go. Keeping my voice low, I bristle, “Just because I didn’t go into the military doesn’t mean that I can’t run Complete. I was a personal trainer, you know.”

He shrugs. “Right. But there’s a huge difference between being a foot soldier and an officer. Addie earned her stripes. And you just picked up a check from some rock star who let you follow him around.”

“I was Cole’s security detail. I saved his life.”

“And I’m sure the world is a much better place for it.”

Like a teenager, my belligerence explodes. “If you were half the father as the hotshot military man you claim to be, maybe some of that loyalty would’ve been channeled to your own goddamn family.”

A noticeable hush falls over the living room as guests give us space yet lend their ears. FPU’s face turns red. In an exaggerated whisper, he utters, “Maybe if you were half the man your sister was, she would be standing here today.”

Promise be damned. “I don’t need to stay here and listen to this. I came because Mom asked. And Emilie wanted to meet you both, even though I told her you weren’t worth it. And I’d say you just confirmed that truth.”

A gasp—complete with a French accent—reaches my ears. Fuck.

The noose around my neck, otherwise known as a tie, constricts to the point where my breathing becomes shallow. I’m so done with this farce. I turn to Emilie. “We’re leaving.”

Deep green eyes, swimming in unshed tears, meet mine. She doesn’t say a word, just nods.

“Mom.” I offer her a half-hearted hug and stride out of the room, not bothering to glance at the other partygoers. I presume Emilie’s right behind me.

When I reach the front walkway, I take a huge gulp of air, which feels condescending. Leave it to my father to figure out how to bend Mother Nature to his will, too. Nothing like being the General’s biggest, living disappointment.

My legs eat up the distance between the house and my Jeep. Soon, I’m ensconced in the driver’s side, the comforting steering wheel underneath my hands. I start the engine and classic rock immediately fills the vehicle. FPU always hated hearing “that noise,” so I lower the windows and turn it up all the way.

The passenger door opens and Emilie slides in next to me. Crap. I didn’t even help her into the Jeep. My fucking father screwed with my head, but that doesn’t give me the right to treat her the way he treats my mother.

“Ems. I’m so sorry. I tried to keep my promise.” She turns her face to me, her cheeks wet.

My heart breaks at how small she looks. I touch her delicate skin with my thumbs and swipe the tears away.

She’s managed to do the impossible—make me agree with my father. I’m not worth it. I’m not worth her, and I never will be.