34. Gianna

"I would have made dinner," I said, looking at Emerson working in the kitchen. "You had a game today."

"I like feeding people." Shrugging, he held up a spoon for me.

"What is it?" I asked, eyeing the yellow mush on the spoon and taking half a step back.

"Mofongo." He chuckled at my reaction.

Returning to where I had been, I forced myself to unscrunch my nose.

"It's not poison. It's garlic mashed plantain. Try it." He lifted the spoon higher.

I parted my lips for a small taste. It wasn't bad. Like a potato, but richer. It didn't have a lot of flavor, but the garlic gave it a savory taste.

"It's good."

"Chris likes it. And he loves the fried pork on top."

Apparently, my brother had invited himself over for dinner tonight. He and Avery had done it a few times since I'd moved in, so it wasn't totally out of the blue. But it had been a while since they were here. And rather than just showing up like they usually do, they actually gave Em a heads-up.

"Can I do anything for you?" The plates were stacked by the stove, and he looked like he had the food managed, but I'd feel guilty if he did all the work himself.

In true Emerson fashion, he glanced over his shoulder and waggled his brow.

Huffing, I shook my head. "If Chris is on his way, then anything that results in that kind of happy face is off the table."

He full-on laughed, the sound one I'd come to love. And it managed to always make me respond with an answering smile of my own. Even on a bad day. Not that today was bad. The last few days had been uneventful. I hadn't had to deal with Jake at all, and I'd worked on a logo for a pitch next week and a full branding project that was due the week after.

I had finalized the logo for Dylan a few days before, and she was thrilled with it, so that was off my plate. The only stressor still eating at me was the apartment situation. But at this point, I could admit that I was actively putting off the hunt. Every time I thought about it, the idea of locking into a lease gave me a stomachache. So I was in full-on avoidance. Though I had to face reality soon. Eventually, my brother would want to get rid of this place, since he was living with Avery.

Emerson had turned back to the stove, his broad, bare shoulders on display. A shirt was in a heap on the counter for when Avery and Chris arrived, but he rarely wore a shirt at home, and I wasn't complaining. Until the idea of leaving popped up again. I had a lot of complaints about that.

"Is this more of a wine meal or beer?" I pulled open the fridge and ducked to peruse its contents.

"Beer," he said from behind me, "but I'll have water."

I grabbed an IPA out of the fridge for myself and filled a glass with water for him.

He'd probably prefer the beer, but lately, he'd been following his diet plan pretty strictly, only stealing a sip of my beer or wine here or there. His game was on fire, his on base percentage was the highest of his career, and he was leading the league in steals, but none of that stopped him from pushing himself. The lack of a contract was eating at him. And it hurt to know there was nothing I could do about it.

I popped the top of my beer, and as I set his water on the counter next to him, he snaked an arm out and pulled me in tight.

"One more before your brother gets here." His mouth settled against mine. But instead of the peck I anticipated, he cuffed the back of my neck, locking me in against him. He coaxed my lips open and invaded my mouth. Teasing me. Tempting me with an idea he had no time to follow through with.

With his other hand, he grabbed my ass, fingers biting into me as he squeezed. He slipped a thigh between my legs, and I rocked against him. The groan that vibrated deep in his chest in response to that move flipped my stomach. When he swatted my ass, I moaned.

Maybe we had time…

"Em." I whimpered against his lips.

Instead of tightening his grasp, he pulled back, releasing me.

"Hold that thought. Your brother's about to be here." He smirked.

I narrowed my eyes. "Ass."

He chuckled and kissed me one more time before turning back to the stove.

"I'm not sharing my beer now." I pulled it off the counter next to his water and moved around to sit on one of the stools at the high counter behind the sink.

"You wound me," he teased.

Behind me, the apartment door swung open. "Bambi! Where my mashed bananas at? My mouth has been watering all day," my brother called.

"You know," I called back, "since you moved all your stuff out, seems like you should give back your key."

Chris scowled as he walked into the open living area. "I still pay half the rent. That shit means I don't need to stand outside a door, waiting to be let in."

"They might want privacy, babe." Avery hopped up onto the barstool at the counter next to me.

"Who?" Chris whipped his head one way, glaring at me, then the other, so he could hit Em with the same expression. He pointed a finger between us. "Are you saying you need privacy from me?"

I forced myself not to react to that statement, but Emerson just chuckled.

He peered over his shoulder with a smirk. "Nah, man. Nothing you can't see. You see my dick all the time."

"Not by choice. Jesus," Chris muttered, shuffling to the fridge. "Wear clothes in the locker room, and we wouldn't have a problem." He bent at the waist and pulled out a beer.

Em shrugged. "I tried that. You called me weird."

"Hmm." Avery pressed her lips together like she was fighting a smile as she took the beer from my brother.

"You better not be picturing Bambi naked, Blondie," Chris growled.

She giggled. "No, I was picturing my dad's face when he has to deal with you all not wanting to wear clothes."

Emerson laughed again, and Chris huffed.

"Can I help?" Avery asked.

"Nah. Gi offered. She wants to see how I plate the mofongo."

That was entirely untrue. I hadn't said that at all, but I wasn't going to complain about spending a few minutes at his side. I loved that I was his go-to when he needed a hand.

"Are we watching a movie or a show or what?" Chris asked, moving across the room to the sectional and coffee table. The end tables were gone now.

Last week, Chris had moved out almost all of his stuff. It left the place feeling empty. Most of the pictures and paintings were gone, since they had been Chris's, and the stark walls made it feel too sterile.

Emerson had framed the skyline I'd painted when I first moved in, and that hung where the stadium used to be, but only half as many photos and books sat on the shelves now. And apart from the bed, Chris's room was completely empty of anything that wasn't mine.

"We've been watching Foyle's War."

The brightness in Emerson's eyes when he mentioned the show surprised me. He hadn't been thrilled with it when I first put it on.

"What?" Chris glared my way.

"It's a detective show set in World War II." It was something I had picked. So, of course, my brother would hate it.

"Why the hell would you watch that?" Chris asked. "Nothing about that sounds appealing."

"You know, I kinda thought that too, but it's got the feels, man." Emerson didn't turn away from the stove. "Not the tingles of a good happily ever after, but the emotion will choke you up."

Chris scoffed. "I'm not going to cry over a television show."

"I do sometimes. I love a good cry once in a while," Avery chirped.

"Me too," Emerson agreed.

In unison, Chris and I scoffed. And then glared at each other.

"It's funny how the two of you can be so different sometimes, and then others, you're practically the same person." Avery's bright blue eyes danced between my brother and me.

"I know, right?" Emerson laughed, the sound echoing around the kitchen.

The buzz of my phone on the counter stole my attention. It danced on the quartz as the firm's number flashed on the screen.

"We can watch whatever, but give me a sec. This might be important."

Normally I was pretty opinionated when it came to movies and TV shows, but tonight, I really didn't care what we watched. If Avery and Em chose some sappy romance, then I was okay with that. Emerson would love it, so I'd be happy that he was happy. And yes, I realized that made me almost as sappy as the stupid movie we'd be watching. But not many people in his life did things with the goal of making him happy, and I wanted to be someone who did. "Em and Avery, you pick."

My brother handed Avery the remote as I stepped down the hall and shut the bedroom door.

As I swiped the screen to answer, I braced myself, expecting Jake. "Hello?"

"Ms. Damiano?" A voice I didn't recognize greeted me.

"Yes?"

"This is Jonathan Whittemore."

My heart dropped right out of my chest. Why was the president of the company calling me?

"We met at the Boston Zoo event."

I cleared my throat. "Yes, I remember."

"I wanted to meet with you in person, but I've been advised that you're working remotely for another few weeks."

There was no official end date to my remote employment. We'd left it open-ended so I could return on my own time. But I wasn't going to correct the guy that was my super boss.

"What can I do for you, sir?"

"I'm not sure you've heard yet that Mr. Caderson and Doucette Design parted ways earlier today."

My lungs seized and my knees wobbled. Seriously? Jake had been fired? Zara mentioned that it would likely eventually happen, but the article wasn't slated to come out until next week. Zara had asked if I wanted to be a part of it, but I'd decided against it. The story here should revolve around the people who'd been brushed aside, whose ideas and designs had been credited to others. That was the story. Yes, I was one of those people, but there were many more, and if I was mentioned. I worried the focus would turn to the scorned girlfriend.

The long pause on the line meant I should speak.

"I hadn't heard."

"We kept it quiet." He sighed. "We're dealing with an issue regarding designs being poached, so to get ahead of the problem, we're reorganizing. We want designers, the artists, in management roles. Guiding and fostering our young talent. We want to have a very proactive approach."

Getting ahead? Meaning they'd been clued in to the article, so they were reacting? That didn't seem like being proactive. That seemed like damage control.

"Okay," I said carefully, scanning the room without really seeing anything. I loved the feel of this room. Between the heavy furniture, the family photos, and Revs gear, it was a soothing, comforting space. I took a deep breath and refocused on the conversation.

"We were impressed with how you handled the Boston Zoo's account. Not only the designs, but your interactions with the zoo's marketing team."

"Th-thank you." I stuttered the words, shocked by the compliment. At the zoo event, this man acted like he had no idea who I was, and so did every other person from Doucette in attendance. Besides Jake and Libby, of course.

"I will be honest," he said with a sigh, "there is some bad press headed our way. And although, through our own internal investigation, we noted that you could have joined the impending smear campaign, you didn't, and that shows loyalty."

An icky feeling started to crawl across my skin. I didn't like where this was headed.

"We appreciate and reward that kind of commitment to the organization, so we'd like to offer you a management role. You'd be overseeing the designers and meeting with clients."

They were offering me a promotion because I'd kept my mouth shut about Jake? The shudder that worked its way down my spine felt nothing like the kind I experienced around Emerson.

"Ms. Damiano?"

I cleared my throat. "Sorry, I'm just surprised." I rushed the words out.

"Understandable. When we floated your name, we hadn't realized you were working remotely. I just want to be clear that this isn't a remote position. But it comes with a drastic salary increase, and you'll receive a bonus for every project your team completes, not just for your own accounts."

"Right." I swallowed, the pressure in my chest making my breathing labored.

He threw out some numbers, and I shut my eyes. Because that kind of salary would easily make the apartments I'd looked at in New York affordable.

"I'll email an official offer, but why don't you take a few days to think it over? Let's set up a meeting for Monday morning. Say my office, eight thirty?"

"Sure," I agreed, because though he'd framed it as a suggestion, it was a directive. The five o'clock train would suck, but it would get me into New York on time. The end of the conversation was a blur. And then I was saying goodbye and promising to see him on Monday.

I swallowed past the boulder lodged in my throat and set the phone down on the bed. A job offer I didn't want from a company I didn't want to work for, but with a salary that would make life so much easier.

"Gi," my brother barked.

Heart lurching, I rushed out of the room and hurried down the hall. When I stepped into the living area, they were all sitting at the table, waiting for me.

"Did you just come out of Emerson's room?" My brother's brows jumped as he looked from me to the hallway and back again.

"Why would I be in his room?" I asked, even though that's exactly where I'd just come from. I hadn't even thought about it when I walked in there to take the call. I'd been sleeping in his room for weeks. Even when he wasn't home. I guess it was habit at this point.

Chris glared at me. Emerson lowered his focus to his plate. Avery eyed each one of us, her gaze calculating, before she jumped in.

"How can you possibly tell what room she was in? Can you even see either door?" Avery leaned across him. "Doesn't look like it from here."

"Whatever," Chris huffed and then waved at my seat. "Can we eat now?"

"Did we decide not to watch a movie?" I dropped into the chair next to Em.

"Avery wanted to sit at the table. What was the call about? Must have been important if you kept us waiting to eat," Chris said, but his shoulders relaxed as he took his first bite.

"Jake was fired," I mumbled, picking up my fork.

Emerson brought his ice water to his lips, but I swore he was smiling behind the glass.

"Good," Chris said.

"They offered me his job."

"That's great," Chris said, cracking the smallest smile.

On my other side, Emerson choked. He barely had his glass steady on the table before he launched into a coughing fit.

Snapping up straight, I whacked his back. "You okay?"

He nodded, and with one final cough, he turned to me. "They offered you his job?" His normally bright green eyes were a little muddy. It happened when he wore a yellow or beige like he was wearing now, but the contrast was so drastic in this moment that it made him seem sad.

"Did you take the job?" Chris demanded.

After I gave Emerson a quick scan, searching for what the issue could be, I turned back to my brother. "No. I said I'd think about it."

"What?" His fist fell to the table, rattling the dishes. "What's there to think about?"

A lot of things. Starting with how wrong it felt when he'd made the offer. I couldn't pinpoint the problem, but my gut was telling me to think it through.

"It's a big decision," I hedged and left it at that. I couldn't even begin to explain the way my intuition was nagging at me.

"It comes with a big raise, right?" Chris dropped his elbows to the table and hit me with his patented grumpy face. "More money means you can afford a place in New York. You'd be stupid to say no."

"She hasn't said no, and it's reasonable for her to take time to think it through," Emerson gritted out, his jaw rigid and his eyes harder than I'd ever seen them. I wasn't used to the look. Mad Emerson wasn't a norm.

While I thought Chris would be as shocked as I was about Emerson's obvious change in demeanor, he only scoffed, like he hadn't even noticed it. "Since when do you believe that? You're the king of just act on an idea."

My heart panged at the flash of hurt in Em's eyes. Sure, he could be impulsive, but typically only when it came to run-of-the-mill things that didn't matter. Like jumping up to hug someone when he was excited or offering his help without a second of hesitation. But saying he never thought things through was grossly unfair.

With my hands balled into fists on my lap, I forced myself to focus on the table while I worked to get my temper under control.

My focus shifted to Emerson's white plate, only then noticing that he wasn't eating the same thing we were. But the grilled chicken and broccoli made sense. He wouldn't have fried pork when he was focused on being at the top of his game.

"No," I gritted out, throwing figurative daggers at my brother.

"No?" His eyes flashed with the same kind of challenge I'd seen from him all my life.

"No, he's not the king of just act on an idea," I growled.

That single sentence made my brother sit back, his jaw dropping.

"Don't pretend to be shocked. Why do you think you two are such good friends? You are both focused and have consciously made choices and sacrifices that have driven your careers."

A warm palm covered my fist in my lap. At his touch, my body released most of the tension it was holding tight to. Emerson slipped his fingers into mine and gave me a squeeze, silently communicating his gratitude. I couldn't look at him. If I did, I had no doubt my brother would pick up on the fact that he was holding my hand.

"And now I'm taking time to make smart choices with my own career. So don't give either of us shit." My voice was calmer, but I kept my expression hard.

Chris worked his jaw back and forth, his eyes moving between his best friend and me. After he'd scrutinized each of us a couple of times, Emerson went rigid next to me.

"Chris, she's right. You wouldn't want her to jump into a shitty job. So let's eat, and maybe the hangry will go away." Avery rubbed my brother's shoulder. "Anyway, congrats on the offer, Gianna. If you decide it's what you want to do, I have no doubt you'll be great at it."

"I never said she wouldn't be," Chris mumbled.

Emerson was still wound tight, like he was ready to spring at any second and he'd yet to release my hand. The awkward way he'd positioned his arm so the contact wasn't visible above the table had to be uncomfortable, so I loosened my hold, ready to release him, but he kept his fingers locked around mine.

Across from me, Avery was forcing a smile so hard that her face must hurt.

"Oh, guess what?" she chirped.

It took a pretty decent amount of willpower not to snap at her. The atmosphere was still tense, and my defenses were still raised high, but none of that was her fault, and I could appreciate her efforts to smooth things over.

"What?" I fought against the resting bitch face, shooting for cheerful.

My efforts must have been a little too over-the-top, because Emerson squeezed my hand and cleared his throat in a way that sounded almost like a chuckle.

I side-eyed him, and sure enough, he was totally fighting a laugh. His eyes danced, and he finally released my hand to cover his mouth.

I rolled my eyes. Me smiling wasn't that funny.

"You actually want us to guess, Blondie, or are you going to tell us?" Chris shoved another bit of pork into his mouth.

She smirked. "Sorry. No. I just got distracted." With a shake of her head, she straightened in her seat. "Wren's going to run her first art auction this weekend, and she has extra tickets."

"Cool." I finally dug into my dinner. The moment the pork hit my tongue, the most incredible flavor burst in my mouth. Damn. No wonder Chris liked this so much. Quickly, I scooped another bite.

"She's worried it'll be an empty house, so she wants us to come fill the seats. Are you available on Sunday night?" Avery asked. "Kyle is coming too, and so are Asher and Zara."

I shrugged. Sounded like fun.

Beside me, Emerson cracked his knuckles. "I told Wren I would go."

"Yay!" Avery tapped the tips of her fingers in front of her chin, smiling wide. "We'll all go."

Her reaction was a bit overzealous, but my brother just smiled at her like she was the cutest thing he'd ever seen. Whatever. At least the tension had faded.

After dinner, Avery even convinced Chris to watch one episode of Foyle's War before he was ready to go.

"Hey, Bambi," Chris called as they were putting their shoes on in the entryway. "Did you decide what you want to do about signing a new lease?"

Emerson's shoulders sagged, the movement so small, I was positive my brother had missed it. "I'm not going to lock into another year."

He couldn't while his contract was still up in the air. Didn't Chris know that?

"Okay, cool." Chris held out a fist. "I'll let them know we're done after October."

"Sounds good." Emerson forced a smile and pounded my brother's knuckles.

Seriously? My teeth ground with so much force my jaw throbbed. Did Chris not realize how insensitive he was being?

The second Chris pulled the door shut behind him and Avery, I turned to Emerson.

"Have you made any more decisions about what you're doing after October?" I asked.

Emerson shook his head. "I'll probably spend some time in Jersey while I wait for another team to pick me up."

"Does Chris know you might not play for the Revs next season?"

"I'm not sure." He gave a half-hearted shrug. "It's common knowledge that my contract is up. The baseball world has been talking about it. A lot of people are speculating that I'll end up in Vancouver." He swallowed audibly, his throat working, and averted his gaze.

That was far. My heart hurt for him. The unknown, as well as the thought of starting over, seemed awful and scary.

I shuffled up to him, and without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around me. With my head on his chest, I listened to the steady pounding of his heart.

"But it doesn't seem like I'm any team's first choice." The words were soft and laced with hurt.

I pulled back and studied him, but he looked past me out at the skyline, his eyes flooding with emotion. "That's not true."

He pulled back, looking me straight in the eye. "Gi. It's okay. It's part of the game." He released me and stepped away. "Besides, I'm used to it."

The statement was gutting. Because he meant it, and he was okay with it. He'd learned to expect it. But he deserved to be put first once in a while.

"After my dad died, my mom had to focus on my siblings. They were so young and needed her more. Then we moved when I was in high school. Worst time to lose all your friends." He cracked his knuckles. "And I was the gawky weirdo. Trust me, no one liked me." The chuckle that escaped him was dark and so unfamiliar. "And then I moved to triple-A and was the baby of the group."

He sighed and scanned the horizon, so lost and in so much pain. I'd seen hints of the hurt he kept buried, but this was the first time he was purposely showing me all of it.

"Literally, my first real friend since I was fourteen was your brother. And now he has Avery."

"But—"

He held up a hand, cutting me off. "I'm so damn happy for him. Because she is everything he needs."

"But you quickly became less."

"I'm not sure I ever ranked above you or Pop." He swallowed. "And I shouldn't have. But you weren't around."

"She was."

He shrugged. "I don't have the ‘it' factor to be a fan or coach's favorite. Those are your once-in-a-lifetime stars. But I'm here, playing on a professional team. I'm lucky to be on the list at all. I don't need to top it. I'm not anyone's first choice. But I'll say it again. I'm lucky to just be on the list."

"After all that, how can you be this way?"

He cocked his head to the side, his lips turning down in a confused frown.

"Happy. Grateful." I gave in to the instinct to glare. Why the hell hadn't anyone ever fought for him? He clearly wasn't going to do it. "Even when all you get is scraps."

His shoulders sank. "I don't know how else to be."

And that's what made him so incredible.

"That's good, because I never want you to change." I swallowed back the emotion rising up inside me. Damn if I didn't want to cry for this man. But I wouldn't ruin the moment. Because when I thought back to this time with him, I wanted to remember the perfection and not tears.