Spider: A tattoo romance (Rough Ink Book 2) Page 18

  “Don’t worry about it, bro. Forget I even said anything. Actually, I was looking for you too. I wanted to introduce you to someone.” He turned to me again. “Benji, this is my friend Emi. Emi, this is my boof-head of a little bro, Benji, and his poor girlfriend, Zara.”

  Benji stuck out his tongue and blew a large raspberry at his big brother. I couldn’t say I blamed him.

  “Hi, Benji. Nice to meet you, and so sorry about your dad. Hi, Zara.” I shook both their hands.

  “Hi, Emi.” Benji’s handshake was firm, just like Chris’s.

  “Hi, Emi. You’re so pretty.” Zara’s smile made me smile too.

  “Thank you. You are too.” She blushed and looked at her shoes again.

  27

  Spider

  Zara wasn’t wrong. Emi was pretty. Actually, she was wrong. Pretty wasn’t enough to convey Emi’s level of beauty. She was stunning, pure and simple. Her thick onyx hair fell in loose waves to her shoulders, and her amber eyes seemed to shine brighter than ever against her burnished copper skin. Maybe it was the contrast between that and the cream blouse she wore under her black blazer, through which I could see the pattern of her lacy black bra. It was driving me wild.

  I didn’t know what kind of guy got hard as a rock for his girl at his dad’s funeral, but it seemed I was that guy. I shifted my weight between my feet a few times, hoping to subtly rearrange my junk in my pants without either bringing attention to the fact that I was sporting wood, or having to grab my package to make myself more comfortable.

  My mom looked at me with a small smirk gracing her lips, raising her trademark eyebrow once again. Busted. I was starting to think I should have taken Emi’s advice and left the introductions for another time—the whole thing had been epically awkward—when Benji’s booming foghorn voice interrupted my thoughts.

  “Are you Spider’s girlfriend? Does he kiss you like I kiss Zara?” Timing was a bitch, and so was Benji’s endearing but also hella-annoying total lack of brain-to-mouth filter. His broadcast coincided with a pause in the music between songs, guaranteeing that the entire room both heard his comment and was looking our way again, curious to know more. Great.

  Emi looked like she wished she’d be beamed into an alien craft and taken to a faraway planet, never to be seen again.

  “Benj!” I hissed out of the corner of my mouth. “You need to learn to keep your voice down a little.” I wanted to tell him he needed to learn to mind his business and not blurt out every passing thought that went through his brain, but at twenty-three years old, I knew not to expect that of him—if he hadn’t mastered the art of subtlety by now he likely never would.

  “Why?” He practically shouted that also.

  “Because maybe everybody in the room doesn’t want to hear your business, or mine, man.”

  He genuinely didn’t understand why yelling wasn’t a thing, but I could tell he was gearing up to press me for an answer to his question, and I wanted at all costs to avoid him yelling it again.

  “Emi and I are friends.”

  “Bu—”

  “And yes, we like to kiss sometimes, just like you and Zara.”

  Poor Emi. I made a note to listen to her advice about how to deal with joint social situations in the future, as clearly I had no fucking idea.

  The music started back up, and people returned to their polite conversations.

  “Oh. She’s pretty,” he said, echoing Zara’s earlier sentiments.

  “I know, but it’s not nice to refer to people as ‘she’ when they’re standing right in front of you, okay?”

  “Okay.” I was sure he wasn’t listening to a word I was saying. He was too busy gawking at my girl.

  “Hey, buddy! It’s also very rude to stare. Even if it’s because you think someone is pretty.”

  He looked away then, turning to Mom for guidance, which he often did, because of course he couldn’t just take his big brother’s word for it. Asshole. She nodded, corroborating what I had said.

  Mom saw that as her sign to take the baton and put an end to our joint discomfort.

  “Well, again, it was great to meet you, Emi, and thank you for coming. God knows, we can all use as much support as we can get at the moment. I hope my son has made you feel welcome, but please help yourself to food and drink. I’m going to have to keep moving. There are so many people to say hello to, some of whom I haven’t seen for decades.”

  “Oh of course. Sor—” I squeezed Emi’s hand. “I mean, please don’t let me keep you. It was lovely to meet you also.”

  Mom leaned in to give Emi a peck on the cheek, all the while looking at me with a knowing smile. There would be questions later, for sure, but now, she floated off and was enveloped by the crowd as more people approached her to offer their condolences.

  Emi turned to me. “Um, I think I’m gonna step outside for a moment. I need a little fresh air.”

  “Okay, I’ll come with you.”

  “No, no. You don’t have to. I didn’t mean it like that. I was just letting you know.”

  “I know I don’t have to. I hope you understand that anything I do with you isn’t because I have to do it, but because I want to. Come on, let’s bounce.” I still had ahold of her hand, and I tugged it gently, underpinning my words. “Benji, Zara, we’re heading outside for a little while. Are you guys going to be okay?”

  They could more than handle themselves, plus Zara’s parents, Mom, the guys from the studio, and several other friends who had taken Benji under their wing were all there and would keep an eye on him. Still, I liked to ask.

  “Yeah. Are you going to go kiss her now?” He clearly wasn’t going to listen to any of my social advice.

  “Maybe, buddy. If I play my cards right, and if my kid brother hasn’t screwed my chances.”

  Emi laughed, and carried on chuckling to herself as we move toward the back door. Again several people stopped us on the way, but we did finally make it out onto the back lawn. Emi disentangled her hand from mine and started pacing the perfectly manicured grass, popping her knuckles in sequence as she strode back and forth.

  “I’m not the most observant person, but you seem kind of… on edge. What’s up?”

  “Nothing. I just wasn’t ready for all that, I guess. Meeting your family, answering questions about us. It didn’t occur to me until we were right there that your mother probably knows my whole sordid saga. When that realization hit, I didn’t know if I was more embarrassed and ashamed about it or relieved that I wouldn’t have to try to explain our connection without mentioning being held up at gunpoint by my ex. Either way you look at it, it’s a lot, you know?”

  I hated how freaked out she was. I regretted having blindsided her that way, but seeing how anxious she was after the fact, it was probably best that she didn’t have ages to wait before meeting them to work herself up the way she was now.

  “Look, I know it’s a lot, and yes, Mom knows our history. But it’s done now, and they both loved you, trust me.”

  “Well, I guess Benji would’ve made it clear if he didn’t, right?” She laughed again and I joined in, recalling his booming announcement.

  “Damn straight. Loud and clear. That’s one of the things with many people with Down syndrome. They can’t or won’t lie. Over the years, I’ve come to see it as both a blessing and a curse—depending on the day. Mom plays her cards close to her chest, obviously, but I can read her like a book. She’s Team Emi, just like me, Benji, and Zara. One question, though. Am I gonna get a kiss? Asking for my brother.”

  I loved hearing her laugh, and promised myself I would make it happen more often.

  “Um… maybe?” She bit her lip, lowering her gaze to the ground.

  “Maybe? How can I convert you to a full yes?” I took a small step toward her.

  “I don’t know.” She continued pacing.

  “You can’t think of anything?” I stepped closer again.

  “Nothing specific.”

  I took a final step so I was in h
er path.

  “That’s a shame. Because I’d love to kiss you right now.” I caught her in my arms as she walked into me, still staring at the ground.

  “Oh!”

  “Yeah.” I slid one hand under her chin, tilting her face toward me. She looked up at my shoulder, refusing to meet my eyes.

  “Look at me.” I waited for her to look my way, not wanting to push her too far out of her comfort zone.

  It felt like forever, but when she met my gaze, I smiled down at her, using my pinky finger to move her bangs back from her eyes a little.

  “Thank you.” I slipped my hands behind her head, letting them glide though her hair, hesitating one last moment before bringing my lips gently to hers. Always gently. Our bodies responded to the touch, a ping of electricity flowing between us.

  I lingered, my lips brushing hers so lightly that they almost weren’t there. I needed more, but I wanted her to ask for it with her body. No, to take it, rather than me being the one to lead the dance. As ever, she hesitated, and I held my breath, hoping she’d stay but fearing she’d go. The moments I’d had with her, even on the phone, always felt so fleeting, as though we were on borrowed time. No, not borrowed. Stolen.

  After what seemed like an eternity, she pushed up onto her toes, looping her arms around my neck, and kissed me back. Hard. The kiss went from maybe nothing to definitely something in almost no time, not that I was complaining. I moaned into her mouth before switching our positions so her back was facing the hall. Then I walked us backward so she was leaning against the building, maintaining contact between our lips the entire time.

  Once she was against the wall, I upped the ante, pressing down harder against her lips. Emi matched my force and we opened our mouths, exploring with our tongues. I lifted my arms to rest my palms flat against the wall on either side of her head, at the same time pushing my knee between her legs so we could get closer.

  I rubbed against her, letting her feel my hard-on. Not that it would be a surprise for her to know how much she turned me on. I brought one hand to her cheek, pulling her mouth even closer to mine and jamming my lips against hers just hard enough to cause us both to pause, catching our breath. I wanted her so bad I was seeing stars. I always wanted her—all week when we’d been talking on the phone, despite the circumstances, I’d been rock solid the entire time.

  “I wish there was somewhere more private we could go right now. I’m dying.”

  She pulled back a little, pushing my chest.

  “It’s your dad’s funeral. I don’t think this is the time or place. It’s bad enough that we’re here doing this, let alone—”

  She was right. I was out here doing the same shit I was down on Benji and Zara for earlier, although they had a valid excuse. They didn’t know any better; they were just doing what felt good.

  I knew better, but with the day I’d had, I just wanted to feel good too. Maybe I wasn’t in my right mind—I was sure that most people weren’t after seeing their father’s casket lowered into a hole in the ground—but I’d never wanted Emi, or anyone, more.

  “—oh God, speaking of time.” She nudged me farther away and began fishing around in her purse while pacing back and forth looking flustered and frustrated. Moments later, she’d retrieved her cell phone. She looked down at it, even more stressed.

  “Shit! Shit! Shit!” She hissed the words under her breath. “I have to go. Like a half an hour ago. Shiiiit!”

  “Hey, calm down. What’s with the Cinderella routine all the time? Are you about to turn into a pumpkin?”

  She looked up at me as though she wanted to stab me in the dick. “I know you’re trying to lighten the mood or something, but this is no time for jokes. I need to leave. Now. Please convey my apologies to your mom and brother for leaving without saying goodbye, and thank them both for their hospitality. I loved meeting them both.” She looked down at her phone, jabbing at it frantically, I guessed calling an Uber.

  “If it’s that urgent, I can drive you wherever you need to go. There are plenty of people here to take care of Mom and Benji.”

  “What? No way. I wasn’t dropping a hint for a lift. I would never pull someone away from their father’s funeral, but I do need to head out, stat.”

  “Okay, then I’ll get one of the guys to drop you, instead. They won’t mind.”

  “That’s almost as bad. No thank you. I’ve got this. Please, just go back inside. I’ll call you later tonight.”

  My mind raced with a thousand questions and suspicions.

  “No. I was serious when I asked about the Cinderella thing. What’s with that?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” She looked genuinely surprised and confused, but I plowed on regardless.

  “Sure you do. Whenever we’re together, there’s always somewhere you need to be other than with me. Are you seeing someone else?”

  “What? Are you out of your goddamn mind? Wait. I’m sorry. It’s your dad’s funeral, so of course you are. I’m going to take off now and pretend I didn’t hear that. I’ll call you later.”

  “It’s got nothing to do with my state of mind. It’s a fact. You always have to rush away somewhere. The day my dad died, you did the same thing. Every time we speak on the phone, you can only talk late in the evening, and in hushed tones as though you don’t want anyone else to hear. Now you’re running away from a wake. What the hell am I supposed to think? It’s obvious what’s going on.”

  She looked as though I’d slapped her in the face. Her cheeks glowed red and her eyes filled with tears. I hesitated in a moment of doubt. What if I had somehow gotten the wrong idea and was accusing her of something she didn’t do? As the thought came into my mind, it immediately left again. I wasn’t wrong—the evidence was all there, as plain as the nose on my face. I pushed on.

  “You haven’t answered my question. Is. There. Another. Man?” I spat the words out, surprised by how strongly I felt.

  Emi blinked slowly as though weighing her next words.

  “Yes, there is.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. You busted me. I’ve been lying to you this whole time. Well, lying by omission, I guess. There is someone else. His name is Noah.”

  The words were like a sucker punch to the gut. They winded me, and I choked on thin air, gulping in random irregular breaths like a fish out of water.

  “What the fuck, Emi?” I boomed, surprising even myself with the volume and ferocity of my voice.

  “Well, now you know. I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while but couldn’t find the words. I guess I didn’t know how to broach the issue and how you’d take it. At least it’s all out in the open now. He’s the love of my life, and always will be. My heart beats for him.”

  “What the fuck?” What was going on?

  “He’s also eight years old and will soon be wondering where the hell his mommy is when he’s left waiting with a member of staff at his after-school care facility after hours!” Now it was her turn to raise her voice. A heated argument with a woman at my father’s farewell was hardly a good look, but I felt powerless to stop the runaway train I’d created.

  “Emi. I—”

  “If you’re about to apologize, you can save your breath. Not only do I not have time to listen, because my son is waiting for me to come collect him, but also because my dance card for hateful men in my life is full, what with my father and Tommy and all. I cannot and will not repeat the mistakes of my past and put up with crap from guys anymore. I’m done with being anyone’s punching bag, verbal or otherwise. I know today was the definition of shitty days for you, but that doesn’t give you an excuse to treat me like dirt. Whatever this”—she motioned between us—“was or could’ve been, it’s done. Now if you’ll excuse me, my Uber is here.”

  I opened my mouth, then clamped it shut again. There wasn’t anything I could say in my defense. Even taking into account the circumstances, I’d behaved like a total asshat, and she’d quite rightly called me on it.

 
; She spun on her heels and headed for the path that led around to the front of the building. I stood in stunned disbelief for a few moments before going back inside the hall.

  I had no clue how I was going to fix the epic shit sandwich I’d created. I just knew I needed to.

  28

  Emi

  The phone vibrated for about the hundredth time in the last twenty-four hours since I’d hurried away from the funeral like Cinderella, just as Chris had said. Although, it wasn’t a pumpkin I was afraid of turning into—but a worse mother than I already was. I’d called en route and told them the truth—I was at a funeral in the suburbs, timing had been tight, and traffic getting across the city was, as ever, terrible.

  I hated being that mom, but at least I knew they wouldn’t leave Noah stranded on the sidewalk. One of the workers—who no doubt had a family and kids of their own who they wanted to get back to just as much as I wanted to get to mine—would stay with Noah until I got there. I’d have to pay an extra three dollars per minute for every minute I was late, which partially went toward paying the worker who drew the short straw, extra running costs like insurance, and also acted as a deterrent to parents for habitual lateness. It was an effective policy.

  I’d arrived twenty minutes late and sixty dollars poorer. Not that the money was my main concern. Letting Noah down again was, though. Being Noah, he was in good spirits, making use of the unexpected free time to finish reading a book he’d been devouring all week. I loved that kid so much that my heart bled just thinking about him. Even more so when I knew I wasn’t doing right by him, which was almost always.

  We went home, grabbing pizza on the way again, because I was Mother of the Year. After we ate, Noah climbed into bed, tired but happy.

  The next evening, I snatched the phone from the table as it danced around silently, sick of ignoring it. I picked up the call.

  “What?”

  “Oh, hi.”

  “Hello, Spider. What do you want?” I deliberately didn’t call him Chris. It was petty, but it was where I was at—he was still very much in the doghouse.