In Your Dreams
Page 17
Rancho de la Luna—Ranch of the Moon—was gorgeous. White stucco with red clay tile roofs, beautiful plantings, a fountain. Orange and lemon trees were in bloom, competing with the soft white of ornamental pear trees, and the scent of jasmine was thick in the air.
Very romantic.
“Welcome,” said the valet as she pulled up to the huge wooden doors. “Are you here for the Norman-Bates wedding?”
“We sure are,” she said, getting out and handing him the keys. “I’m Janet Leigh, and this is Anthony Perkins.”
“Nice to meet you!” he said, flashing a smile so brilliant Em almost shielded her eyes. “Head on in, and make yourselves at home here at Rancho de la Luna!”
Jack retrieved their bags from the trunk. “Showtime,” he said, reaching for her hand.
“No, no. None of that,” she said. But damn, she was glad he was here, a tall, handsome date. Really, he should start charging. He’d make a fortune.
The lobby of the resort featured Mexican tile floors and clean white walls. Some lurid religious art hung on the walls; Em had read that the place had been modeled after a Spanish mission. She glanced around. Nobody she knew.
“Emmaline Neal,” she said to the clerk.
“Welcome,” the woman said, clicking some keys. “And your name, sir?”
“Jack Holland. Can our rooms be adjoining?”
“Not necessary,” Em said.
“It’s no trouble,” the clerk replied cheerfully. “I can put you in rooms 112 and 114. Just go down this hall and take a right. Both rooms have ocean views.” She smiled again at Jack and handed them both keys.
“Thank you,” Emmaline said. She picked up her bag, turned and nearly bumped into an extremely beautiful man. Dark hair. Dark eyes. Broad shoulders, chiseled bone structure, and electric attraction buzzed in her stomach.
“Emmaline!” the man said. And holy bleepity-bleeping bleep, it was Kevin.
Her face went hot immediately, and her knees felt sick and weak.
He looked like the love child of Johnny Depp and Orlando Bloom. Square jaw, perfect nose, lovely mouth and those eyes... The eyes were the same.
“You made it,” he said.
“What?” She cleared her throat. “Yeah, I did. Um, we did. Yes. Thank you for inviting me. You look...you look great, Kevin.”
Almost three years since she’d seen him last. He’d been very handsome, yes, and strong and solid.
Now, though...now he was a sculpted wonder of science and divinity. His T-shirt, which read Trample the Weak, Hurdle the Dead, clung to his pecs, and his arms...his arms were a thing of beauty. Those were Daryl-from-The-Walking-Dead arms. Jeremy Renner arms.
Em closed her mouth. Presumably, Jack was nearby and hadn’t burst into flames, but even if he had, it might’ve been hard for Emmaline to look away from Kevin.
Her ex grinned. “That’s right. You’ve never seen the end result. Pretty amazing, huh?” he said, and with that, he took off his shirt and flexed.
Such a...such a...such a jerk.
But holy bleep.
He was tan and hairless (he used to have chest hair, but the landscape was smooth and golden now). Perfectly defined muscles, no trace of fat anywhere. It was as if New Kevin had killed Old Kevin, melted down his fat and used it for lamp oil or something, because even though she’d slept with this guy for years, she didn’t recognize one thing on that beautiful panorama of skin and muscle and beauty.
Then Naomi came jogging up, wearing workout gear smaller than any bathing suit Em had ever owned. Emmaline tore her eyes off Kevin’s eight-pack (was there such a thing?) and blinked.
“Babe. There you are.” Naomi slid a tanned arm around Kevin’s perfect waist and smirked at Emmaline. “Emily. Long time no see.”
“It’s Emmaline.”
“Right.” Naomi hefted up a liter of bile-colored sports drink and guzzled.
“Hi. Jack Holland,” came a voice. “The bride and groom, I take it?”
“Sorry,” Em said. “Jack, these are Kevin Bates and Naomi Norman. This is my friend, Jack Holland.”
Naomi scanned him up and down. “What’s your BMI?”
“I have no idea,” he said patiently.
“How much can you bench?” Kevin asked.
“I’m not really a gym kind of person,” he said, smiling. He took her hand. She didn’t remove it. She might’ve even been squeezing it very hard.
She should’ve hugged Kevin to show she was over him. She should’ve smiled. She should’ve said, Kevin, hey! Look at you, gorgeous! and been all casual and happy and not frozen and stupid.
“This is a beautiful spot,” Jack said. “We were so happy to get out of the weather back home.”
Neither Naomi nor Kevin answered.
“Emmaline, why don’t we get settled?” Jack said.
She stared at him mutely. Better than looking at Kevin, that was for sure. Let alone Naomi.
“Good idea,” she said, and hooray for her, she was speaking at long last. “We’ll see you guys later. Of course. Because it’s your wedding! Yay!” Oh, Lord. Where was her gun? She had packed it, right? It would be so great to shoot herself right now.
Jack laughed, angels bless him, and put his arm around her shoulders. “Long flight,” he said, giving her a little squeeze. “We were up before dawn.”
Naomi smirked. “Yeah. Get some rest, Emily. You look exhausted.”
Then, hand in hand, the bride and groom walked the opposite way. Naomi still had the most amazing body she’d ever seen, and Em couldn’t help the flash of envy she felt. Just once, just for one afternoon on the beach, she would’ve liked to have rocked a bathing suit. Okay, fine. She would’ve liked it for a weekend. A month. A few years.
And Kevin... He’d done it. He certainly wasn’t fat anymore. He was the one percent—the perfectly beautiful people with perfectly beautiful bodies.
“You okay?” Jack asked.
“Yep.” She stepped out from the comfort of his arm. “I appreciate the thought, Jack, but I really don’t want to pretend to be a couple.”
He looked at her for a long minute. “You sure?”
“Yeah. But thank you.” She looked away from the kindness in his eyes and headed down the hallway.
Time for a very big glass of wine. Or two. They passed another hallway, and a familiar voice stopped Em in her tracks.
“Emmaline? Sweetheart!” It was Mom. “How are you? Are you crushed? Did you see Kevin? You were very brave to come.”
“Of course you came, Emmaline. You’re very strong, as I raised you to be,” said Dad. There was a brief scramble as each parent tried to be the one to hug her first.
“Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad.” She gave them simultaneous, one-armed hugs so as not to play favorites, then smiled at her sister.
“Emmaline!” Angela said, her eyes growing damp. “How wonderful to see you!”
Her sister managed to extricate her from their parents and gave her a hug. Then Dad had to give her another, extra-long hug to show that he was a better parent than Mom, which meant Mom had to hug her again and kiss her twice on the cheek.
“It’s good to see you guys,” Em said. She meant it, but there was no way she’d ever sound as nice and sincere as her sister. “This is my friend, Jack Holland.”
“Jack, lovely to meet you,” Angela said, shaking his hand warmly. Honestly, those nuns at the orphanage had done a fantastic job raising her.
“Oh! This is Jack?” Mom exclaimed. “What a surprise! I didn’t—well, we didn’t...ah...”
“What, Mom? I told you I was bringing someone.”
“I just assumed this ‘Jack’ person—” Mom made quote marks with her fingers “—was actually ‘Jacqueline.’ Not that there’s anything wrong with you, Jack.”
“Very nice to meet you,” Jack said, smiling at Em. He shook hands with her parents.
“Son, a pleasure,” Dad said, to prove that he was way cooler than Mom.
“We were just going to have some dinner in the restaurant,” Angela said. “It’s very pretty. You have to join us, don’t they, Mama? Papa?”
“Sounds great,” Jack said, damn him. “Give us an hour, why don’t you? We’ll meet you there.”
More hugs were exchanged until, finally, the three other Neals went off. When they were a sufficient distance away, Em looked at Jack. “What did I say about hiding in the room and drinking wine?” she asked. “I thought you were a winemaker. You were supposed to support that plan.”
“They’re your family. They love you.” He picked up her suitcase, ignoring her attempts to grab it back. “You can have wine at dinner.”
* * *
EMMALINE COULDN’T HAVE wine at dinner. No one could.
The resort restaurant—Sea of Tranquility—was beautiful, overlooking the Pacific. It also didn’t serve alcohol. Where had that been on the website, huh? Rather hateful of them, really.
It had gotten chillier. There was a picturesque fire in a glass fireplace in the middle of the room and windows on three sides. Em, Jack and her family had a corner table; she thought Jack might’ve slipped the maître d’ a twenty, but she was a little stupid with fatigue. Strangely beautiful candles, probably made out of wheatgrass and edamame, flickered, and, outside, a whip-poor-will started to sing.
Naomi and Kevin weren’t in the restaurant, thank God. Em thought she recognized one of his cousins, but no one called out a hello or stopped by the table, and she was deeply grateful. She’d see everyone tomorrow and Saturday—they’d been given a program of “Fun and Healthful Activities!” which included the mandatory water sports.
Saturday afternoon was the wedding itself.
She wondered how Kevin had felt, seeing her again. If they might have a real conversation, just the two of them, and maybe...maybe set some old feelings at rest. Maybe they could even manage to be friends again. Surely, somewhere in that beautiful sculpted body, a little bit of Old Kevin existed.
Dinner was a blurry, odd affair. Her parents were both talkers, but because they didn’t speak to each other, it was as if there were two conversations going on at the same time, except for their sharp jabs at each other from time to time. Also, the combination of jet lag and stress was the equivalent to an Ambien and a baseball to the head.
The ranch only served gluten-free, vegan food, and while it wasn’t awful, it also wasn’t identifiable or filling.
Only Angela was normal, her usual charming self, laughing, laying her hand on Jack’s arm from time to time, telling stories while Mom whispered questions to her about why Em had chosen to bring a man as her date.
“I’m straight, Mom,” Emmaline told her for the fifth or sixth time.
“Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” she said, “but, Emmaline, you don’t have to hide your sexuality from us. I’m very open-minded, even if your father isn’t.”
“I’m open-minded,” Dad objected. “I think we all know exactly who’s homophobic here. But, Emmaline, you never have to hide who you truly are from your old dad.”
“I’m not hiding anything!” Em said. “I’m broadcasting my sexuality, okay? I like men. I’ve never kissed a woman, and I never want to.”
“Too bad,” Jack murmured, earning a scowl. He was acting way too boyfriendy for her.
“Can we talk about something else?” she asked, pushing some mysterious food that began with a Z around her plate. “Ange, what’s new in the world of the moon and stars?” She turned to Jack. “Angela’s an astrophysicist. Just finished her PhD at Stanford.”
“Emmaline, you’re so sweet to ask, but my job is so boring compared to yours!” her sister said. “Tell me how things are going in beautiful Manningsport. Have you had any interesting calls lately?”
Very romantic.
“Welcome,” said the valet as she pulled up to the huge wooden doors. “Are you here for the Norman-Bates wedding?”
“We sure are,” she said, getting out and handing him the keys. “I’m Janet Leigh, and this is Anthony Perkins.”
“Nice to meet you!” he said, flashing a smile so brilliant Em almost shielded her eyes. “Head on in, and make yourselves at home here at Rancho de la Luna!”
Jack retrieved their bags from the trunk. “Showtime,” he said, reaching for her hand.
“No, no. None of that,” she said. But damn, she was glad he was here, a tall, handsome date. Really, he should start charging. He’d make a fortune.
The lobby of the resort featured Mexican tile floors and clean white walls. Some lurid religious art hung on the walls; Em had read that the place had been modeled after a Spanish mission. She glanced around. Nobody she knew.
“Emmaline Neal,” she said to the clerk.
“Welcome,” the woman said, clicking some keys. “And your name, sir?”
“Jack Holland. Can our rooms be adjoining?”
“Not necessary,” Em said.
“It’s no trouble,” the clerk replied cheerfully. “I can put you in rooms 112 and 114. Just go down this hall and take a right. Both rooms have ocean views.” She smiled again at Jack and handed them both keys.
“Thank you,” Emmaline said. She picked up her bag, turned and nearly bumped into an extremely beautiful man. Dark hair. Dark eyes. Broad shoulders, chiseled bone structure, and electric attraction buzzed in her stomach.
“Emmaline!” the man said. And holy bleepity-bleeping bleep, it was Kevin.
Her face went hot immediately, and her knees felt sick and weak.
He looked like the love child of Johnny Depp and Orlando Bloom. Square jaw, perfect nose, lovely mouth and those eyes... The eyes were the same.
“You made it,” he said.
“What?” She cleared her throat. “Yeah, I did. Um, we did. Yes. Thank you for inviting me. You look...you look great, Kevin.”
Almost three years since she’d seen him last. He’d been very handsome, yes, and strong and solid.
Now, though...now he was a sculpted wonder of science and divinity. His T-shirt, which read Trample the Weak, Hurdle the Dead, clung to his pecs, and his arms...his arms were a thing of beauty. Those were Daryl-from-The-Walking-Dead arms. Jeremy Renner arms.
Em closed her mouth. Presumably, Jack was nearby and hadn’t burst into flames, but even if he had, it might’ve been hard for Emmaline to look away from Kevin.
Her ex grinned. “That’s right. You’ve never seen the end result. Pretty amazing, huh?” he said, and with that, he took off his shirt and flexed.
Such a...such a...such a jerk.
But holy bleep.
He was tan and hairless (he used to have chest hair, but the landscape was smooth and golden now). Perfectly defined muscles, no trace of fat anywhere. It was as if New Kevin had killed Old Kevin, melted down his fat and used it for lamp oil or something, because even though she’d slept with this guy for years, she didn’t recognize one thing on that beautiful panorama of skin and muscle and beauty.
Then Naomi came jogging up, wearing workout gear smaller than any bathing suit Em had ever owned. Emmaline tore her eyes off Kevin’s eight-pack (was there such a thing?) and blinked.
“Babe. There you are.” Naomi slid a tanned arm around Kevin’s perfect waist and smirked at Emmaline. “Emily. Long time no see.”
“It’s Emmaline.”
“Right.” Naomi hefted up a liter of bile-colored sports drink and guzzled.
“Hi. Jack Holland,” came a voice. “The bride and groom, I take it?”
“Sorry,” Em said. “Jack, these are Kevin Bates and Naomi Norman. This is my friend, Jack Holland.”
Naomi scanned him up and down. “What’s your BMI?”
“I have no idea,” he said patiently.
“How much can you bench?” Kevin asked.
“I’m not really a gym kind of person,” he said, smiling. He took her hand. She didn’t remove it. She might’ve even been squeezing it very hard.
She should’ve hugged Kevin to show she was over him. She should’ve smiled. She should’ve said, Kevin, hey! Look at you, gorgeous! and been all casual and happy and not frozen and stupid.
“This is a beautiful spot,” Jack said. “We were so happy to get out of the weather back home.”
Neither Naomi nor Kevin answered.
“Emmaline, why don’t we get settled?” Jack said.
She stared at him mutely. Better than looking at Kevin, that was for sure. Let alone Naomi.
“Good idea,” she said, and hooray for her, she was speaking at long last. “We’ll see you guys later. Of course. Because it’s your wedding! Yay!” Oh, Lord. Where was her gun? She had packed it, right? It would be so great to shoot herself right now.
Jack laughed, angels bless him, and put his arm around her shoulders. “Long flight,” he said, giving her a little squeeze. “We were up before dawn.”
Naomi smirked. “Yeah. Get some rest, Emily. You look exhausted.”
Then, hand in hand, the bride and groom walked the opposite way. Naomi still had the most amazing body she’d ever seen, and Em couldn’t help the flash of envy she felt. Just once, just for one afternoon on the beach, she would’ve liked to have rocked a bathing suit. Okay, fine. She would’ve liked it for a weekend. A month. A few years.
And Kevin... He’d done it. He certainly wasn’t fat anymore. He was the one percent—the perfectly beautiful people with perfectly beautiful bodies.
“You okay?” Jack asked.
“Yep.” She stepped out from the comfort of his arm. “I appreciate the thought, Jack, but I really don’t want to pretend to be a couple.”
He looked at her for a long minute. “You sure?”
“Yeah. But thank you.” She looked away from the kindness in his eyes and headed down the hallway.
Time for a very big glass of wine. Or two. They passed another hallway, and a familiar voice stopped Em in her tracks.
“Emmaline? Sweetheart!” It was Mom. “How are you? Are you crushed? Did you see Kevin? You were very brave to come.”
“Of course you came, Emmaline. You’re very strong, as I raised you to be,” said Dad. There was a brief scramble as each parent tried to be the one to hug her first.
“Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad.” She gave them simultaneous, one-armed hugs so as not to play favorites, then smiled at her sister.
“Emmaline!” Angela said, her eyes growing damp. “How wonderful to see you!”
Her sister managed to extricate her from their parents and gave her a hug. Then Dad had to give her another, extra-long hug to show that he was a better parent than Mom, which meant Mom had to hug her again and kiss her twice on the cheek.
“It’s good to see you guys,” Em said. She meant it, but there was no way she’d ever sound as nice and sincere as her sister. “This is my friend, Jack Holland.”
“Jack, lovely to meet you,” Angela said, shaking his hand warmly. Honestly, those nuns at the orphanage had done a fantastic job raising her.
“Oh! This is Jack?” Mom exclaimed. “What a surprise! I didn’t—well, we didn’t...ah...”
“What, Mom? I told you I was bringing someone.”
“I just assumed this ‘Jack’ person—” Mom made quote marks with her fingers “—was actually ‘Jacqueline.’ Not that there’s anything wrong with you, Jack.”
“Very nice to meet you,” Jack said, smiling at Em. He shook hands with her parents.
“Son, a pleasure,” Dad said, to prove that he was way cooler than Mom.
“We were just going to have some dinner in the restaurant,” Angela said. “It’s very pretty. You have to join us, don’t they, Mama? Papa?”
“Sounds great,” Jack said, damn him. “Give us an hour, why don’t you? We’ll meet you there.”
More hugs were exchanged until, finally, the three other Neals went off. When they were a sufficient distance away, Em looked at Jack. “What did I say about hiding in the room and drinking wine?” she asked. “I thought you were a winemaker. You were supposed to support that plan.”
“They’re your family. They love you.” He picked up her suitcase, ignoring her attempts to grab it back. “You can have wine at dinner.”
* * *
EMMALINE COULDN’T HAVE wine at dinner. No one could.
The resort restaurant—Sea of Tranquility—was beautiful, overlooking the Pacific. It also didn’t serve alcohol. Where had that been on the website, huh? Rather hateful of them, really.
It had gotten chillier. There was a picturesque fire in a glass fireplace in the middle of the room and windows on three sides. Em, Jack and her family had a corner table; she thought Jack might’ve slipped the maître d’ a twenty, but she was a little stupid with fatigue. Strangely beautiful candles, probably made out of wheatgrass and edamame, flickered, and, outside, a whip-poor-will started to sing.
Naomi and Kevin weren’t in the restaurant, thank God. Em thought she recognized one of his cousins, but no one called out a hello or stopped by the table, and she was deeply grateful. She’d see everyone tomorrow and Saturday—they’d been given a program of “Fun and Healthful Activities!” which included the mandatory water sports.
Saturday afternoon was the wedding itself.
She wondered how Kevin had felt, seeing her again. If they might have a real conversation, just the two of them, and maybe...maybe set some old feelings at rest. Maybe they could even manage to be friends again. Surely, somewhere in that beautiful sculpted body, a little bit of Old Kevin existed.
Dinner was a blurry, odd affair. Her parents were both talkers, but because they didn’t speak to each other, it was as if there were two conversations going on at the same time, except for their sharp jabs at each other from time to time. Also, the combination of jet lag and stress was the equivalent to an Ambien and a baseball to the head.
The ranch only served gluten-free, vegan food, and while it wasn’t awful, it also wasn’t identifiable or filling.
Only Angela was normal, her usual charming self, laughing, laying her hand on Jack’s arm from time to time, telling stories while Mom whispered questions to her about why Em had chosen to bring a man as her date.
“I’m straight, Mom,” Emmaline told her for the fifth or sixth time.
“Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” she said, “but, Emmaline, you don’t have to hide your sexuality from us. I’m very open-minded, even if your father isn’t.”
“I’m open-minded,” Dad objected. “I think we all know exactly who’s homophobic here. But, Emmaline, you never have to hide who you truly are from your old dad.”
“I’m not hiding anything!” Em said. “I’m broadcasting my sexuality, okay? I like men. I’ve never kissed a woman, and I never want to.”
“Too bad,” Jack murmured, earning a scowl. He was acting way too boyfriendy for her.
“Can we talk about something else?” she asked, pushing some mysterious food that began with a Z around her plate. “Ange, what’s new in the world of the moon and stars?” She turned to Jack. “Angela’s an astrophysicist. Just finished her PhD at Stanford.”
“Emmaline, you’re so sweet to ask, but my job is so boring compared to yours!” her sister said. “Tell me how things are going in beautiful Manningsport. Have you had any interesting calls lately?”
