Chapter 15

Fifteen

Gemma

I t’s nearly ten by the time we’re pulling into my driveway. Everett puts the car in park, and when I glance in the back seat, I notice that Sutton is out cold. Which really says something about how hard he played today—both at the game, and then at Georgia’s—because the drive from her place to mine is only ten minutes max.

“Somebody’s tuckered out,” Everett says with a chuckle.

There’s something so domestic about him sitting in the driver’s seat of my car. I shouldn’t like it… but I do. I think it’s inherently woven into our DNA as women to find it sexy when a man drives our car.

“Yup, boy played his heart out today.” I breathe out a laugh as we both climb out. “I’m going to have to carry him in, probably. Sutton’s a heavy sleeper.”

“Here, let me help you,” he offers, jogging around the car to grab my purse and the leftover food Georgia sent us home with. “You carry him, and I’ll get everything else.”

“You sure?” Meeting his gaze from across the back seat, I unbuckle an unmoving Sutton. “I don’t mind making a second trip. You’ve been out of the house all day, I’m sure you’re itching to get in your house and get comfortable.”

His brows scrunch as his lips tug into a grin. “It’s no trouble, Gemma. I want to help.”

My mind goes back to the last time we were in my house together. Well, technically, it was outside. The wine we drank, the conversations we shared. It felt like we grew closer that night, connected in a way I didn’t anticipate.

And the almost kiss…

If Sutton hadn’t woken up because of a nightmare, we definitely would have. There’s a small part of me that thinks I should feel more freaked out by that. By the fact that I was so close to kissing somebody who wasn’t my husband. That I was so ready to kiss somebody who wasn’t Dylan. I haven’t kissed somebody new since I was a teenager. But it’s also impossible to deny how much I really wanted him to kiss me.

Looking into the future, I always kind of assumed at one point I’d move on. Figured I wouldn’t stay celibate the rest of my life. I mean, hell, I am only in my thirties. But for so long, the idea of having somebody’s lips on mine that didn’t belong to Dylan, somebody’s hands—and more—seemed scary. And then as time went on, it was just easier to stay single, to not even bother trying. I’ve seen from both of my sisters how horrid dating is these days, and it didn’t feel worth it.

The apps, the awkward, forced small talk, the never knowing what you should do on a date. Yuck. It all sounded like it wasn’t worth the effort. Besides, I have Sutton, and the last thing I want to do is have him get attached to somebody I date, only for it to end up not working out. He doesn’t deserve that.

Our almost kiss, though… I’ve thought about it more than I haven’t over the last week. Wondering how it would have felt. What kind of kisser is Everett? Would his lips taste as addicting as the way his gaze feels on my body? Would I want to take it further?

Honestly, I think the answer is yes. On both fronts.

The more I think about that night, the more I think my sisters may be right. Maybe I am ready for something, after all. Some no-strings fun. Everett and I are both mature adults, we’re both single, and the connection is definitely there. At first, when Grace teased me about the way Everett looked at me, I didn’t see it. I’ve been single for so long, I don’t even realize when people are flirting with me, but now I can. Now that I know what to look for.

So, as I get Sutton tucked into bed, I decide to put on my big girl panties and talk to Everett. Proposition him, if you will.

My heart pounds a mile a minute as I leave my son’s room, it nearly beating right out of my chest as I spot Everett in my kitchen, putting the leftovers away in the fridge. He’s so helpful. And sweet. A gentleman. I drag in a deep breath before waltzing into the kitchen to meet him. His eyes immediately find mine, and my entire body flushes hot.

“You didn’t have to put all of that away,” I murmur. “Thank you.”

He grins, and I can feel it in my core. “You’re welcome.”

“Do you want to stay for a glass of wine?”

“I’d love to.” His reply is instant, like he doesn’t even have to think about it.

A smile tugs on my lips as I step farther into the kitchen and grab two wineglasses out of the cabinet. My heart is in my throat as I uncork the bottle and pour us each a generous amount.

Here goes nothing.

Handing him a glass, I ask, “Want to sit outside again? It’s a nice evening.”

“Yeah, let’s do it.” He flashes me another grin that somehow makes my nipples hard. God, it’s been so fucking long since someone has made my body react this way; it’s foreign to me, but I can’t deny how good it feels.

Or how much I want him to keep doing what he’s doing… and more. If a simple smile can make me feel this way, I can’t even imagine what his hands or his mouth on my body would do. I’ll probably combust.

Like I always do when I sit out here at night with a glass of wine, I turn on some music. Music and wine after a long day of working on a million different tasks and also being a mom is my go-to form of self-care and relaxation.

“Thanks for coming today,” I murmur as I take a sip from my glass. My nerves are going haywire, so I’m hoping the wine can help calm me down; otherwise, I don’t know how I expect to get this proposition out. “I know it means a lot to Sutton to have you there. And it means a lot to me too.”

With his eyes locked on mine, Everett smiles in a way that has my insides fluttering like a schoolgirl. “ I wouldn’t have missed it. It’s been nice playing again, and getting to watch the game.”

“You said you played when you were younger, right?”

He nods. “Not for too long, but I did play when I was Sutton’s age and through middle school.” Taking a drink, he adds, “At the field today, I realized how much Sutton reminds me of myself as a kid. It’s been fun getting to help him gain more confidence in his skill.”

It’s then I realize I don’t know anything about Everett and his family, besides that his grandmother was my neighbor. Living in Blossom Beach and meeting mine, it’s impossible to not learn about our dynamics, but I want to know more about him and the life he came from.

“Tell me about your family,” I murmur, smiling at him over the top of my wineglass.

Everett blows out an exaggerated breath, causing me to giggle. “Whoa, boy, we’re going to need more of this soon if we’re going to go there.”

“That bad?” I ask. “We don’t have to go there if you don’t want to.”

“Nah, I don’t mind.” He waves a hand in front of him as he sets his wine down on the table between us. “It’s not all bad, but like every family, there are some not-so-fun parts. And you shared so much with me the last time we were out here together, the least I can do is do the same.”

I know he’s referring to Dylan. His death isn’t something I talk about with people outside of my family. Not because I’m still stricken with grief—because, of course, I have my days when I miss him, and I think I always will, but after six years and a whole lot of therapy, you learn to live with it and not let it weigh you down, or you’ll never be able to move forward—but because I can’t stand the pity people look at me with when they learn my story.

There was definitely a time when I couldn’t get out of bed, when it felt like my world couldn’t go on, but again, time and therapy have helped. I’m not some sad, depressed widow who is walking the plank toward her next mental breakdown, but when people learn about what happened, they look at me like I am. I hate it. But last week, I don’t know… when he asked about Sutton’s dad, I felt safe telling him. And not only that, I felt okay sharing details about it with him.

“My family, specifically my father’s side, comes from money. The Windward men come from a long line of very strong, cutthroat attorneys, and my father is no exception. All my life, my dad worked hard. His career and his powerful, deep-pocket clients were his entire life.” Everett takes a drink, and I watch the way his throat works as he swallows. “There’re two times in all of my childhood that I can remember my father taking any time off to spend with us. It’s just how he is. Work is everything to him. It’s his number one, no matter what.”

A faraway look in his eyes, Everett huffs out a dry laugh. “My mom used to joke when I was a teenager about how she was his mistress, and his career was his real wife. It was meant to be funny, but it wasn’t because of how accurate it was.”

“How did your mom feel about his dedication to his job?”

“She was fine with it,” he explains. “My mother is an independent woman, and their arrangement has always seemed to work well for them. I never understood it. Never understood why anyone would want to be married, but essentially never see their spouse.”

“How did you feel about it?” I ask, although, based on the tightness of his expression and the harshness in his tone, I have a feeling I know.

“It’s…” He blows out a breath. “My father and I have always had a strained relationship. I resent him for all the time he spent at work when he could’ve spent it with his family, and he resents me for refusing to follow in his footsteps.”

“He wanted you to become an attorney?”

“Oh yeah.” He nods, brow furrowed. “It’s what the Windward men do. They have for generations, but I just… couldn’t. I knew, even as a teenager, that I wanted to be nothing like my father. Not only did I have no interest in studying law, but I also have seen firsthand how corrupt it can all be. There truly isn’t much that money can’t buy in this country.”

My heart aches for him. Even with what little he’s shared, I can tell how much his father’s absence hurt him. My parents may have gotten a divorce when I was little, but my dad has always been there for me and my siblings. Hell, even when they probably disliked one another, my parents made an effort to always do things with us kids together, even when I’m sure they hated it. I can’t imagine what it would be like to feel like I came in second place compared to my parents’ jobs. No child deserves that.

“I’m so sorry, Everett.” Reaching over, I cover his hand with mine. “I can’t imagine how that must’ve felt. I’m assuming he didn’t react well when you decided to become a teacher? ”

He laughs again, but there’s no humor in it. “Not at all. We actually didn’t speak for a few years while I was in college. He couldn’t wrap his head around why I wouldn’t want to follow in his footsteps. And aside from the money I was given by my late grandfather for school, my dad cut me off completely.”

“No, he didn’t.” My heart thumps harder, the need to wrap him up and comfort him strong.

“Oh, he did. As I mentioned before, my family comes from money. When the men turn twenty-five, they’re supposed to get access to a trust fund. However, since I decided to take a different path for myself, my dad somehow was able to take that away from me.”

My eyes widen. “How much was in the trust fund?”

“I have no idea.” He shrugs. “To be honest, I had a suspicion that he’d take it from me anyway when I told him I wasn’t going to become an attorney, so I was already expecting it. Sure, having that money could’ve helped, especially when I was just getting started out in my career and was barely making anything, but I’d rather struggle a bit than get a shit ton of money for doing something that would’ve made me miserable.”

“Wait.” I hold up a hand, something he said setting in. “You said when the men turn twenty-five. Do the women in your family not get the same?”

“Nope. My aunt didn’t get shit when she turned twenty-five. Granted, she also married into old money, so it wasn’t like she was hurting for cash, but still. The double standard is nauseating.”

“Holy shit, that’s so sexist.”

Everett chuckles, bringing his wineglass up to his lips as he takes a sip. “It’s a hundred percent sexist,” he agrees. “But let’s talk about something not as gloomy, and”—finishing his wine, he holds up the glass—“we should get a refill.”

“Agreed.” I giggle as I swig the rest of mine and move to stand up, but he stops me as he rises from his chair, holding a hand up.

“Let me,” he says, his eyes boring into mine, sending a shiver down my spine with the intensity of his gaze. “You sit and relax, and I’ll be right back.”

A smile curls on my lips as I hand him my empty glass, and then he disappears into the house as my mind swirls with thoughts of everything he just admitted to me and everything I still want to talk to him about tonight. I’m not sure how I’m going to get from where we just were to where I want to be, but I’m hoping a little liquid courage will help.