Emma

The aquarium is teeming with people and I feel myself tense at the prospect of being here. It’s loud with children running up and down, parents yelling and trying to chase them while handling another kid or juggling the million souvenirs they’ve forked over for.

It would be sweet, I mean, I like the way it all looks, people happy, laughing, excited children and indulgent parents. It’s so far from what I had growing up that for a few seconds I soak it all in and just enjoy it.

But it’s too much and with every single minute that passes I feel myself tense more, the need to run taking hold of me so hard I’m breathing like a runaway train.

I’m trying hard not to react badly because one look at Colton and I know that I don’t want to ruin this for him. His face is creased in a smile, his eyes sparkling as he looks everywhere at once and I can almost feel his excitement when we finally make it through the crowds and reach a huge glass window that’s as blue as the clearest sky.

Buckets. I’m sweating buckets as he pulls me in front of him and leans his chin on my shoulder.

“When I was a kid and we’d come home for the midterm breaks, I’d sneak out of the house and meet Harley here. We’d make a day of running around this place and eating until we were ready to burst. By the time the nannies caught on to the fact that we always came here, we got into hockey and we’d sneak into the rink to watch them practice.”

I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth, slowly, just concentrating on keeping my shit together and force myself to focus. I want to know things about him, everything, and hearing something like this is just another piece to the puzzle I hope to finish.

“That…sounds nice. Did, did you ever play?”

He snorts and wraps his arms tighter around my middle, his heat helping me focus while I strain to see what is swimming in front of me.

“We did. I was good enough for state when I went to college and I had every intention of going pro.”

He can play hockey! God have mercy, that is freaking sexy, I think, shuddering slightly when he pulls my ass closer and breathes beside my ear.

I pick up the rhythm out of desperation and soon I am breathing deeply, the black spots in my eyes fading with the inflow of oxygen.

“Why didn’t you do it?”

“Broke my ankle senior year.” He shrugs, kissing my head distractedly. “I wasn’t fast anymore. I trained like a demon, did everything the physio told me to but it wasn’t the same and I’d rather bow out and move on than cling to a dream I can’t give a hundred percent to.”

Like me and opening my own candle shop. I would talk to Gam about it non-stop when I was little, make all these grand plans about how I would bring light into people worlds. We experimented together a lot, making scents, and one year laughing so hard when we lit a candle and it smelled like dirty feet.

That dream is looooong gone, so far in fact that I can’t remember what got me onto it in the first place. Maybe I only liked it because of Gam, maybe I was just trying to fit in with her and be someone she wanted to talk to, who knows.

But I get it, well partly, and it saddens me that Colton lost something he wanted so badly.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, baby, I’m not. Me’n Harley hit the ice sometimes and join friendly games, so it’s all good. I far prefer wearing a suit and ruling my little world.” He chuckles, gazing into the tank where a dolphin keeps flitting by.

“When I was little, I liked to make candles,” I say softly, feeling shy because it’s so freaking dumb. “My Gam and I would melt the ingredients and cast them together. She got all these molds for us to use and we even added scents to them. My whole room was filled with them and I’d light them at night because I was afraid of the dark.”

“What happened? Candle making not lucrative?” he snorts, making my mouth twitch because I’m not exactly earning a packet as an intern for Glasgow.

“Gam died and it just sort of faded away. When I got to high school, I did an aptitude test and it pointed me towards a career with numbers. I’ve always been really good at math and the like, so I figured I’d follow that path. Statistical analysis sort of just fit so when NYU accepted me on scholarship, that’s the path I took.”

And I like it, I think, snuggling back against him when a kid runs by, almost knocking right into me. I’m not as tense as I was before and I am grateful because it was close, really close that I was going to freak out and cause a scene like I did yesterday.

I don’t want that to be me, the weirdo who freaks out just because people are around, and most days I am not. I go places, I do, it’s just that I do it after planning so I know what to expect.

Maybe it’s the element of surprise, the uncertainty I can’t handle. I dunno but it’s worth mentioning to Doc Lyndon at least.

“I think it’s great that you found something to enjoy with your grandma. Why didn’t you keep it as a hobby?” he asks, steering me away from the tank and into a darker section where I stop dead at the sight of a massive tail.

“Colt, not the whales, they freak me out.” I gasp, trembling.

I can’t say why but the sight of something that big, crammed into a tank held together by glass and glue makes my skin crawl. He chuckles and pushes me closer, squeezing us in between two families.

“You need to look and know that I am here. I would never do anything or take you anywhere you could get hurt, Emma, I promise.”

Two words in that sentence calm me instantly. I promise. Two simple words and yet they soothe me enough that I am only slightly frightened when we stand and stare, waiting for the inevitable.

When the whale floats down, cruising passed lazily I feel my muscles freeze and cheat by slamming my eyes shut. I feel his chest vibrate with laughter and elbow him in the gut for daring to notice.

“So. I was asking, why not make candles as a hobby?”

“I don’t know. I was busy with school, then when it started getting easier, I was working, trying to make rent, pay Aunt Sue back some of the money she lent me for school. It just seems silly to do something that doesn’t pay the bills and doesn’t have much value.”

He doesn’t say anything after that, just pulls me close and makes me stand there until I’ve seen that Goddamn whale three more times, the last time with my eyes firmly fixed there because I realized fast that we’re not moving until I look.

I still don’t like it when he finally takes my hand and leads me outside and to the car, but I don’t say it because the man is just stubborn enough to plant roots there until I admit I liked it.

Stubborn.

“You’re stubborn,” he says when we’re moving again, my stomach growling because I realize that it’s passed noon and we’d been there for hours.

“You’re stubborn,” I counter, not caring that I sound juvenile. “How long were you planning to stand there?”

“All day, if need be.” He laughs, pulling my head to his chest and laying a kiss in my hair.

“I’m hungry.”

“Half of New York heard your stomach, Em, I didn’t miss it either. Mexican,” he says, the words coming out with relish.

“Not too spicy.”

I get gassy when food is spicy and there is nothing, and I mean nothing, sexy about me then. Just ask Buck. We never eat Mexican after the first time he brought it home and I doubt he’d be down with Colton right now if he knew.

The place he takes me to is a tiny little food trailer in the park with a few chairs and tables scattered around. The place is hopping with foot traffic and a line that has me reconsidering.

Colton just smiles, spreads the blanket he brought from the car beneath a tree and leaves me there to go get in line. I stare at him the whole time, blinking because he looks nothing like the powerful, super rich CEO I know him to be.

Today, here, he’s just a normal guy standing in line to buy food from a truck, like any regular person. That scares me a little, to be honest, because I have seen two sides of him now and I don’t know what to make of him.

It’s way easier to see him as the ruthless, very demanding boss who just this past week fired a guy in the accounts department for screwing up. I wasn’t there but Mira reported a gross admiration for his coldness.

This Colton is something else altogether. Sweet. Thoughtful. Funny. Normal. I keep coming back to that stupid word, but I don’t have another to describe him right now.

He’s different like this and now I have to see if I can reconcile the hard-assed boss with the caring, sweet boyfriend. Is he my boyfriend? Oh God, Emma, don’t over analyze things!

Just go with the flow, I tell myself, watching him talk to a squat, grey haired man in line while yelling our orders at the man in the window. The sight is too…I can’t see him this way without wanting to dig deep into his psyche so I look away and just sit, watching mothers lounge on blankets while fathers kick a ball around with their sons or chase after pigtailed little girls.

I wonder if I’ll ever have that. Chances aren’t great since Colton is the only guy I could picture myself with long-term, family and all, and we both know that won’t last. He’ll have his fill, eventually, and then walk.

I don’t like that idea, it hurts, but I’d rather be realistic and be prepared than be blindsided by it when it happens. Colton says I shouldn’t pull away before we’ve even started but I don’t think I can go all in knowing that the end isn’t that far away.

Oh, get a grip, Emma. You’ve been with the guy a whopping three days and you’re going maudlin about what hasn’t even happened yet. Chill. Enjoy it. Have some sex.

I grin at my subconscious and make a note to ask Doc Lyndon what she thinks.

“Here you go sweetheart, one super mild burrito and a can of Coke.”

“Thanks.”

I take my food and scoot over for Colton to sit beside me, twisting to face him as I hunch over my food and take a small bite. What, he thought I was suddenly cured of my eating problem? He’s good but not that good.

He chuckles, watching me perform acrobatics to eat on the sly and I stick my tongue out at him to let him know how much I appreciate his humor.

“One of these days I’m taking you to a pie eating contest. If you wanna win you’ll drop the shyness and just bury your face in a pie.” He laughs.

“I’d rather be peeled without anesthesia,” I say, savoring the taste of well cooked beef and the salsa relish mixed with cheese.

“You know, I’m surprised you never developed an eating disorder. Not that I think that’s good, but it’s usually the result of having a parent be so conscious of their child’s weight,” he says, balling up his empty wrapper and opening his Coke.

I shrug, closing up the half I can’t eat for fullness and wiping my mouth.

“I didn’t want to give that bitch the satisfaction,” I admit, shrugging and looking away when he chokes on his Coke.

“That’s one way to put it.”

“It’s the only way. I hated my parents, still do, Colton. And not in the way that most rebellious kids say they do before having some come to Jesus moment and finding forgiveness. No, I mean I despise them and letting my mother affect me enough that I stopped eating or puked up my food every time I ate felt like she was winning even more.”

I answer as honestly as possible hoping that he can accept how I feel and also wanting to push him away. Talking about shit with him is not easy but I do it because if we’re together, then it’s honesty and if he can’t handle that then…all the better. Maybe. Shit, I don’t know.

All I do know is that I’m not going to pretend to be better than I am and if he can’t handle it, it’s best we know before we get into it.

Colton seems to have my number, though, because he narrows his eyes on me and just watches me, making me squirm before his mouth twitches.

“It won’t work, so you may as well stop trying, Emma. Besides I hate your mother about as much as you do.”

“I highly doubt that,” I mutter, taking a sip of my Coke while he chews on that morsel.

“You know that what we have…I won’t lie to you about anything. I won’t promise you forever and chances are that I can’t be the guy you want me to be.”

“I know that.”

“Good, because I don’t ever want to hurt you, Emma. I knew before I asked you out that I should just step back and leave you alone, but I’m selfish, Em. I want you. And I think you want me, too.”

I can’t deny it so I don’t answer, just keep my eyes downcast and play with the tab of my can, my heart beating hard as I wait for him to finish. Part of me is hoping he says something that will make me leave while another part, maybe the piece of me that’s still hopeful and pre-trauma is holding her breath, praying that he’s going to say something that will strengthen the flicker of hope I have inside for him.

“I want you to promise me that you’ll walk if you ever need to, Emma. You’ll develop feelings for me, it’s inevitable, as it is that I will feel more for you. I’m not the prince, though, baby, never will be, so I need you to tell me that you’ll leave before I can hurt you,” he says, his voice filled with gravel as if just saying the words is hard for him.

How the hell can I promise something like that, something that I know in my heart I will never do. If there is a chance, any real chance, that we’ll become more, there is no chance in hell I’ll walk away from it.

For the first time in my life, since I met Colton and started feeling, I look into his eyes and do something that galls me. I lie.

“Promise.”

That seems to calm him and the ice I saw in his eyes melts as he reaches for me and pulls me into his chest, my head tucked against his beating heart.

“Thank you, Emma.”

I nod, not able to talk for the lump in my throat and ask God to forgive me and maybe help me out along the way. Nothing is simple, it never has been, but one thing I do know is that nothing worth having comes easy.

Maybe it’s time for me to do the hard things and be the person I have always wanted to be. Maybe that is the only way I will have a chance to keep this wonderful man who is creeping into my heart bit by bit.

“What now?” I ask after a long silence of watching people enjoy themselves.

“Now we relax, baby. Just sit here and enjoy being outside with the sun shining and the scream of kids all around,” he says simply.

I keep still and try not to ruin whatever mood he’s in, but the truth is that this is not me. I don’t sit still and enjoy anything. I move, I work, I keep going constantly, even if all I’m doing is re-cleaning the apartment or trying out a new recipe.

Being still leads to time and time makes me do silly things like think. I really shouldn’t be thinking right now because all I can come up with is the fact that I’m knowingly walking down a path that will end in a dead end, with me alone while Colton most likely moves the hell on.

I don’t want that to be the destination but I don’t have a clue as to where I should turn to get onto a new path. All I can think is that I won’t know until I’ve tried.

Snuggling into Colton’s side, I watch the children play while grownups run around them, taking this one day to spend time with them before re-joining the rat race tomorrow.

For a while I watch and think about what I would do if I were a mother and it dawns on me that I have no clue. I haven’t ever really thought about it besides in the abject sort of way where I assume I’ll be a mom, but don’t elaborate.

Would I want children, really actually want to have that kind of commitment? Would I be okay at it or would I be a failure? Do I want the constant up and down, never stop kind of life where I have to consider my every move because there is another person depending on me?

I have no freaking clue, but it’s not surprising when my mind conjures up pictures of a golden haired little boy or a chubby girl with blue eyes like mine and Colton’s dimples.

Shit, this is way too heavy for a three-day relationship. Time to move on.