Nicholas
I sit across from Emerson at a booth in Bubba Gump Shrimp along Navy Pier, a large basket of fried shrimp and fries before us. I order myself a beer and am surprised to find her requesting the same. From the first time I saw her I assumed she was a high society rich girl; she just fit that bill. But the more time I spend with her, I see what Gianna was referring to—she isn’t who I thought she was.
I bought us tickets to ride the Centennial Wheel at eight and we’re merely passing the time until then. In the last few hours, I’ve seen an entirely different side of Emerson. She’s relaxed, and I love the fact I’m the one putting the smile on her face.
“I bet your sister hated growing up with you as an older brother,” Emerson says as she pops another shrimp into her mouth. “Never getting to date because you were always running off any guys that grew interested. I can imagine it now.” She puffs up her chest and squares her shoulders. “Back off, or else.” She laughs at her impression of me, and I find myself smiling wide.
“My sister loved me and still does,” I assure her, “but to confirm your theory, there were times when she wanted to kill me off or at least knock me over the head with something hard.”
“Have you always needed to be in control?”
“I like things a certain way.”
“Yeah,” she laughs, “your way.”
“There’s nothing wrong with a confident man.” I arch my brow, daring her to argue the point. She doesn’t. She only shrugs it off as she looks away from me. Her cheeks redden just enough for me to notice.
“Speaking of my sister,” I decide to not call her out on her blushing, “her name is Shannon and she was there that night.” Emerson looks back at me and she squints from the sun peeking into the restaurant just over my left shoulder.
“What night?”
I shift my body to block the sunlight and relieve her of the annoyance. “At the auction.”
Emerson’s eyes widen in horror as her mouth gapes open just a small fracture. “She came just to see me make a fool of myself, but instead she watched me run the stage and snag the prettiest girl in the room.”
“Now you’re just being cocky.”
“Tell me I’m lying,” I dare her and she narrows her eyes like glaring at me would somehow end this conversation and save her from having to admit I’m right. “Exactly, you can’t.”
“Are you always this egotistical?”
“Proud and confident is not egotistical,” I assure her as I snag her beer and take a long pull. When I lower the bottle, I lick away the droplet from my lower lip and watch as her eyes follow my movements. “Tell me that you don’t find those things about me sexy.”
She tries to hide the smile that tugs at her lips, but she is a moment too late. “I don’t,” she insists, and I set her beer back before her.
“And I don’t believe you.”
Motioning for the waitress, I indicate we are ready for our check and get up from my side of the booth and move around to hers. Emerson says nothing, only watches my movements closely. “We have about forty-five minutes before our ride on the Ferris wheel. Wanna find a dark corner and make-out?”
She chuckles as she covers her mouth and looks over my shoulder. I look back and find our waitress standing at my side, holding our check in hand. She’s a middle-aged woman wearing a bright, knowing smile. “You can pay up at the front desk,” she offers as she backs away, shaking her head in amusement.
“She heard you,” Em assures me of something I had already figured out. “And she was laughing at you."
“Babe, she was not laughing at me.” I lean in and press a kiss to the corner of Emerson’s mouth. “She was just trying to cover up the fact that she is envious of you in a darkened corner alone with me.” I wag my eyebrows and Emerson pushes back against my chest.
“You are hopeless,” she says as she continues to hide her bubbling laughter.
I move from the booth and allow her to crawl out behind me. When she hurries away, I watch her ass because I can’t seem to help myself. “You better hurry up if you plan on making out with me,” she says with a gleam in her eye as she walks right past the man waiting to take my payment. “Make me wait too long and I’ll be forced to find another willing party.”
The guy at the desk looks hopeful as he smiles at Emerson, which makes her only laugh harder as she points at him to emphasize his need to volunteer.
“I don’t think so, pal,” I say to him as I toss him two twenties. “Keep the change.”
When she sees me hurrying toward her, she looks to her left in search of an escape. I grab for her before she gets the chance to move away and spin her around to face me. Now with her body pressing firmly to mine, I cup the back of her neck to ensure she’s looking at me. “You even think of kissing another guy and you and I are gonna have problems.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yes,” I tell her very clearly, “big massive problems.” I don’t give her the chance to argue; instead I press my lips to hers and feel her body relax against my own. I like Emerson like this, so calm and relaxed. The tension she typically carries is gone and in its place is a woman I can see myself with, sharing nights just like this, or those where we’re cozied up together in either her apartment or my own.
We never did find that darkened corner, but instead walked along the pier hand in hand. We paused on occasion to talk or even observe something that was taking place, but all I saw was her. The way each smile reached her eyes, it was beautiful. I continue to think of the little bit of information Gianna gave me concerning Emerson, and it only manages to make me want to know more. I want to know everything there is to know about this gorgeous woman.
“Shouldn’t we start walking toward the Ferris wheel?” Emerson asks, gaining my full attention and catching me staring at her in the process. “Just don’t wanna miss our ride.”
“You do know that I plan on kissing you often during this ride.” I hook her around the waist and pull her to me once again. “Lots and lots,” I dip my head just enough to press my lips to hers, “of kissing.”
“I’m okay with that,” she tells me breathlessly.
Before I know it, we are at the Ferris wheel, tucked safely inside and lifted into the air. I watch the excitement in Emerson’s eyes as she looks around in the process. I was surprised to find that she’d never done this before. Hell, Shannon and I come here every year on her birthday to take a spin; it became a tradition after our father passed. It is our little way to reconnect with the man who wasn’t only our father but our best friend too.
“Everything seems so different up here,” she whispers into the darkness. I sit at Emerson’s side and lights that shine around us only highlight her features. “I wish I could stay right here in this moment forever.” Something about the sadness in her eyes bothers me and I use the arm I have stretched over her shoulders to pull her in closer.
“Tell me what you find so perfect about this right here, right now?”
“That I don’t have a million things and people tugging at me.” Her honesty surprises me because she always seems so closed off when it comes to her life. Every time I’ve brought it up the few times we’ve been together, she changes the subject. “The idea that whatever happens right here and now, my father isn’t here to criticize or to command.”
I never really cared for Mr. Mansfield before meeting Emerson, but the more time I spend with her, I dislike him that much more.
“He just wants things a certain way all the time,” she continues, and I don’t interrupt. I’m fearful if I speak she might stop sharing with me. “He’s the one that insisted I spend time with Rodger to begin with. And Mark before that, and Simon before that.” Her words fade as she turns her head away from me like she is hiding.
“We don’t have to stay up here to keep that feeling, Em,” I assure her but she still doesn’t turn back to face me. “When you're with me, I promise you that this is how things will be. No pressure, just two people getting to know one another.”
“He’ll push,” she finally says as she looks back at me, and I see her eyes glimmering in the darkness. “It’s what he does. He thrives on control and when he feels like he’s lost it, he only pushes harder. He goes for the throat when he feels threatened. He fights dirty.”
“Then we push right back.” I place my palm to her cheek, and her eyes instantly flutter shut. “I’m not scared of your father, Emerson.”
“He’ll look for ways to regain the lead. It’s always a game to him.”
“I don’t scare easily.” Damn, I fucking hate this man.
“I don’t even know where this is going, I just—”
I take her lips in a kiss I hope will momentarily stun her thoughts. “This is going exactly where we want it to go, at our pace,” I assure her. “If we want to jump in head first and get lost in all things us, then we will. If we want to take things slow, then that’s what’ll happen.”
“I think we threw slow right out the window when you showed up at my apartment and found me half naked in my bed waiting for you.”
“That was a damn good night,” I tell her and she smiles against my lips.
“My point is that no one is gonna tell us that we’re moving too fast or that we need to speed things up. We do what we feel is right, for us.” She nods though I can still see the hesitance in her eyes.
“Talk to me,” I insist and keep her face captured in my hold as she attempts to turn away. “Truth time, Em.”
She takes in a deep breath, and when her eyes finally meet mine. I realize that going slow with this woman was not going to be an option for me. I wanted to fucking sprint.
“I’m not very good at relationships.” She shrugs. “I never really had the greatest role models growing up, and I think there’s a strong chance that I could mess this up.”
Shaking my head, I lean in toward her again and softly kiss her lips. “I won’t let you.” Again she smiles and I bite at her lower lip. “So, question.” I pull away, but only long enough to ask what I need to know so desperately. “We taking this thing slow or are we sprinting? I’ll be honest right now and confess that I want to run like a madman.”
Emerson begins to laugh as she tucks her chin to her chest.
“Woman, don’t laugh at me, I'm serious. I think if you tell me you want to crawl, I might cry.” I place my finger beneath her chin and make her look up at me. “Say run, please say run.”
She leaves me hanging for a few seconds, and I know it’s her way of torturing me. “Why not?” She shrugs. “Let’s run.”
“Thank fuck,” I say in relief before cupping the back of her neck and pulling her lips back to mine. For a minute there, I think I knew what it felt to be on the verge of a panic attack. That shit is not funny at all.