Graham leans closer. “How is it that I’ve survived seeing you only once in the past five months, and now the thought of being separated from you for four months seems insane?”
I lean my cheek onto his shoulder, caught up in his penetrating gaze. “The premiere is next month. My agent says there’ll be TV and radio talk show appearances before then, probably starting next week.”
He grimaces. “Emma, I’m not the star of School Pride—you and Reid are. I’ll be at the premiere, of course, but most of those other appearances will just be the two of you.”
For some reason, I’d not considered this possibility. “Huh,” I say, and Graham chuckles.
Chapter 2
GRAHAM
Telling her I’m not possessive isn’t technically a lie… but it’s not completely true, either, particularly where Reid Alexander is concerned. After watching how he managed to win Emma’s trust last fall—even if he blew it shortly thereafter—I have a grudging respect for his ability to play charming. The truth is, he is charming. That part of his persona isn’t faked. He’s just too selfish and immature to care about the bodies he leaves in his wake. Literally.
I’m ninety-nine percent certain Emma won’t fall for his façade again, but that one percent of insecurity nags at the back of my mind. Raised by a feminist, I learned early to resist the urge to go all alpha-male. But after years of disliking Reid on Brooke’s behalf, followed by a desire to pound the shit out of him for hurting Emma, an uncharacteristic longing to claim and protect her surges through me, telling me I may have to man up.
“Graham?”
I glance down at her worried face, gathering from her expression that I’m scowling. “I hate the thought of you spending time with him.” God. If my mother or sisters heard me say this, I’d never hear the end of it.
Emma looks surprised, her head angling as she reveals a slow smile. “You don’t need to be jealous of Reid, you know.”
I grimace in return. “I guess I sort of don’t know.”
She stares at our clasped hands, dragging the tips of her fingers over my forearm, and I’m immediately wishing we were somewhere more private. “Last month, he talked to me after the photo shoot wrapped up. He told me wanted another chance. I don’t know how sincere he was, really—I mean, he’s Reid, so who knows—but he seemed more earnest than he’s ever been.”
They spoke privately that last night at the hotel, in his room. He caught her hand and held her back as the rest of us poured into the hallway, and I watched from my slightly-ajar door as she left his room minutes later. She was in tears as she pushed open the door to her room, and my feelings were torn. I didn’t want her unhappy, but I was relieved that whatever was said between them hadn’t resulted in a reunion of any sort.
Reid Alexander has never, that I know of, been good for anyone.
“What he had to say didn’t matter, though,” she continues, peering up at me, “because I knew what kind of guy I wanted, even if I was sure I couldn’t have him, per se.”
I kiss the tip of her nose and laugh softly, shaking my head. “I had no idea. You could clean up as a poker player, Emma. You’ve got no tell.”
Just then, the train emerges from the ground at the edge of the East River, heading for the Manhattan Bridge, one of several leading into Brooklyn. The sun in our eyes renders the scene semi-blinding, at first. And then, individual beams thread through the buildings lining the opposite bank, reflecting like waves off the skyscrapers behind us and sparkling across the short expanse of water. It’s a magical view, one to which few people are immune. “Oh,” Emma says, blinking. I’ve officially begun my plan to dissuade her from ever wanting to leave New York once she moves here.
My oldest sister, Cassie, is an early riser. If we get off at DeKalb, we can be at her loft in minutes. I pull out my phone and turn Emma’s hand palm down on my leg. I like the sight of it there way too much.
Me: You up? I want you to meet someone.
Cas: Now? Are you high? It’s not even 7 am! WHO is this someone???
Me: Yes and yes and i know and emma
Cas: THE emma?
Me: Yeah
Cas: But I’m not presentable!
Me: No worries, she’s not like that
Cas: If you say so. Doug is still asleep. The baby is up. The baby is always up. I’m looking forward to sleeping again someday. I vaguely remember sleep...
Me: Haha, sorry cas. See you in a few minutes.
“Let’s go see my sister.”
Alarm flashes across Emma’s face, her eyes widening. “What—now?”
I have to laugh, since Cassie had the same response. “She lives just over the bridge. I want her to meet you. You’ll love her.” I shove the phone back into the pocket of my jeans and pull the hand she’s pressing against her chest into my lap. I haven’t felt this impulsive in years, which is pretty damned tragic considering the fact that I’m not even twenty-one yet. Feeling older than my age is a common enough sensation for me, but early fatherhood will do that.
We’re both quiet the remainder of the way, each lost in our own thoughts. I know it’s ageist to assume that Emma will have a difficult time handling the fact that I have a child. But fatherhood is the reason I don’t date, the reason I hesitate to form romantic relationships. I didn’t mean to imply that I’ve been celibate, though I may have given Emma precisely that impression. I’m not sure how to clear that up without an awkward conversation—one that can definitely wait.