Freedom (12 page)

“I’m indecisive about what to do with her. I don’t know what I’m allowed to do.” I get nervous just talking about Emma and my hands start fidgeting on the armrests.

“Allowed? You keep referring to these rules you think someone has established for you. Tell me more about what you’re feeling with Emma.”

“I like her a lot.”

“You’ve said that at least six times since you walked in the door.” He smiles. “From my perspective, I can see you’re different. You’re happier. Is that all because of Emma?”

“Yeah. When I’m around her, I think I actually feel my blood pumping, and I start feeling optimistic. It’s like every part of me has finally been woken up from a coma. It’s very vivid and that’s what’s scary.”

“So you’re in love?” Dr. Wang asks thoughtfully.

“No, I like her a lot, though.” I have to downplay my feelings for her. If I say that I think I’m falling in love with her, I really will sound like a nut job.

“That’s seven
likes
.” He smiles again. “Okay, I see where this is going. I’m going to ask you two questions, and I want you to give me the first thing that comes to your mind. A quick response without deliberating. Understand?”

I nod and think of Emma back at the office, probably wondering why I have been keeping my hands off her for the last two days since our hot and heavy, near-sex episode on the couch. We drive to work together and spend our days dealing with accounts, and then when we go home, I cook dinner and we watch TV while she knits. We’re like an old married couple that never has had sex, not even the consummation part. That’s my fault, of course. She is not shy about what she wants, and I would want it, too, if I knew that my crazy head couldn’t possibly put us on the road to ruin.

“Go ahead,” I say.

“Why do you like Emma?”

“She makes me feel fantastic.” I sound remorseful rather than thrilled.

“Why are you afraid of being with Emma?”

“Because she makes me feel fantastic… and I might turn into the old Dylan again. I might lose all this self-control I’ve been managing for months.”

“Okay, this is what I want you to hear.
Fact
, you like her a lot and she makes you feel fantastic. You worrying about losing control and turning into the old Dylan are
speculation
and
fear
, not fact. We have to work with facts. If you keep letting your fear dictate how you live, you will miss some very big things in life.”

His words provide some relief. It’s like my shrink is handing me a golden ticket.

***

When I return to work, Emma is at her desk, giggling at Cooper’s voice speaking over the PA system, projecting throughout every room in the company.

“Gemma and Emma, we’re waiting for you two lovely ladies to join us for lunch.” Cooper’s flirting comes across loud and clear on the speaker system. We can hear Daisy’s voice in the background, attempting to wrestle the microphone away from him. He’s got a confident laugh. “Come on, girls; we’re all out front waiting for you. Again, Emma and Gemma. Gemma and Emma, we need you two awesome chicks to join us.”

“Knock it off.” We hear Carson’s voice and then a loud whack on the microphone. Carson must have taken the mic and given Cooper a good thump on the head with it.

“Good, someone shut him up,” I say.

Emma laughs.

“You don’t fall for that guy’s schmoozing, do you?”

“He’s nice.” She smiles. She’s wearing her long hair down in that sexy, loose way I like, and her skirt shows off her bare legs. Again. I tried not to stare on the way to work when we drove in together in her little car because she says I drive my Jeep like a madman. She doesn’t censor herself around me when it comes to using every version of “crazy,” which is fine by me. She’s beautiful, and I definitely don’t like Cooper’s flirting, no matter how innocent it may be—she lives with me, she’s
with me
.

“Where are you going?” I ask, watching her stand and gather her purse and sweater.

“To lunch. Duh. I’m going to get Gemma because I’m sure she didn’t hear the siren call back in the factory.”

“You’re going to lunch with Cooper?”
Way to not sound jealous, buddy.

“Remember, you’re the one that wants to take it
slowwwww.
So, slowpoke, I’m going to lunch with Cooper and the rest of the staff. Everyone thinks we’re just office mates who happen to rent rooms in the same house. This is what you wanted, Dylan.”

“Not really.” Knowing no one is around, I take two steps and engulf her in my arms. When she gasps and drops her purse, it hits the floor with a loud thud. “If you think I’m ignoring you, I’m not. If you think I don’t want to touch you, it’s not by choice. It’s complicated.”

“Shut up and kiss me,” she says as she wraps her hands around my neck.

I kiss her, ravaging her mouth like I have been caged and starved for three days. She’s soft but forceful, and I am immediately hard. My hands roam her back down to her ass, and all I can think of doing is yanking up her skirt and plowing my dick into her. Every crude image of fucking her on the desk or the floor comes to mind.

I will not be that guy, though. I will not fuck her like we are teenagers doing it for the first time in the back of a car. I will not be the old Dylan that could meet a woman at a bar, and within a half hour, have her spread against a back alley wall while I impale her with my eager appendage.

Our kiss ends slowly as I take one last tug at her lower lip.

“You’re always nicer when you kiss,” she muses.

“That’s because I like kissing you, and it stops you from saying anything irritating.” I think of my golden ticket from Dr. Wang.

“Me, irritating?” she scoffs, and I reluctantly let her go so she can smooth out her skirt and top.

“You drive me crazy with your secretive family connections and those legs. Jesus, why can’t you wear jeans like everyone else around here? But, yeah, I like you, and it’s a little annoying when I see Cooper coming on to you.”

“My family’s so-called secrets are a giant ball of grungy wax you don’t want to get involved with, and Cooper has never hit on me. You’re imagining things. Besides, you can’t complain about secrets when you haven’t exactly divulged much about yourself. In fact, you never even told me where you went this morning.”

“I was at the doctor.” I have never talked to anyone about my visits with Dr. Wang except Carson.

“Are you sick?” Emma asks, her playful sarcasm turns to concern as she touches my forehead.

“No, not that kind of doctor. I saw my shrink.”

Well, that embarrassing cat is out of the bag. She already knows about my screwed up bipolar past, however talking about seeing a shrink on a regular basis is pretty emasculating for me. I like being the strong guy who can do heavy work with my hands, and seeing Dr. Wang and talking about my feelings doesn’t really fit that image.

“Oh,” she says, sounding intrigued. “How did it go?”

“Good.”

Shit, I don’t want her to look at me as some weak, little boy now, but I had to tell her. What I want from her—or hope to have—has to start out on the right foot. She has to know about my doctor and what I am dealing with at some point, though there is a fine line between revealing something important about yourself and saddling someone with your daily struggles; the shit you want to hide from everyone.

“May I ask what you talked about? I know it’s personal, but… did you mention me?” Her smile is adorable and sexy, and my brain screams,
You’ve got a winner; don’t screw this up.

“Yeah,” I mumble sheepishly. “I mentioned you.”

Her big brown eyes pin me down with their delight and wonder.
You’re a goner
, I tell myself.

“I can tell you more about him if you want, but there’s really nothing interesting to tell. We just talk.” I cast my eyes down, worried I am saying too much by unlocking the boogeyman.

“I think it’s good,” she responds, trying to catch my wandering gaze. “Really.”

“How about I make dinner tonight and we can talk then if you want?”

Her sharp laugh startles me. “Oh, Dylan, you make dinner for me every night. We’re not going to have more of those lousy TV-watching nights while I knit the never-ending blanket, are we?”

“No. I can’t take any more of that, either. Come on, I’ll take you to lunch and keep that pesky Cooper away from you.”

“Good, because if you hadn’t just kissed me, I was ready to invite Cooper up for a quickie at the Red Roof Inn.”

“Don’t even joke about that.” I take her arm and escort her out of the office.

Before we reach the diner, a cell phone goes off in her purse.

“Oh, darn.” She fumbles through her bag, and I notice that there are several more burner phones tangled in the contents.

“Don’t tell me this is one of your Bat phone lines to Gotham. This is getting ridiculous.”

“Shhh,” she hisses at me while answering the offending phone.

“Hello...? Robert?” she asks, looking away from me.

“You’re shitting me,” I mumble.

Twelve

Emma

“I can’t talk now. I’ll call you this weekend and we can set up a time to get together.” While I talk, I meet Dylan’s angry glare as he leans against a mailbox waiting for me.

“I know it’s important to you, but I’m at work and I have things going on…” My voice trails off, listening to Robert’s insistent tone.

I used to fall for this; for Robert, for the drama, the excitement he provided, and the relationship I thought it was seductive and loving. I glance up at Dylan’s scowl that evokes something much more appealing than anything Robert could offer. If telling Robert to never call me again would be effective, this wouldn’t be a problem. He’d be out of my life. I tried that last summer, though. I was foolish enough to think we were done and I could move on, get a job and have a healthy relationship with a regular guy.

Obviously, however, Robert still gets to disrupt my life whenever he wants to. He could easily replace me with another woman, yet he’s holding on to me because I’m a familiar person from his past—one of the few he trusts. I don’t want to be that woman anymore, and I may have to call in reinforcements to end this twisted Romeo and Juliet scenario that’s never quite played out the way I fantasized about when I was a teenager and had a major crush on Robert from a distance.

When I finish the call, Dylan is silent as he studies me thoroughly.

“Where is he? Where did he call from?” Dylan asks skeptically.

“I don’t know. I assume his house in Jersey.”

“He is one of those things we need to discuss, Emma. Sooner, rather than later.”

“Tonight,” I reply. I am not confident that I can talk about everything—not when it comes to Robert—but I am more than willing to try to win over Dylan’s trust and possibly more.

If I tell him about what went down over the last ten years of my life—growing up in and around the world my father’s business got us sucked into—I don’t think he would take it easily. No kidding, he’s pissed; the veins in Dylan’s neck are popping from just the idea of Robert. So how do I explain my relationship with a man I defend as good at heart despite my own questionable testimonies and the inherent violence of that life I’ve belonged to?

It’s a completely different kind of baggage than what Dylan brings to the table. A guy who has a history of mental illness and sees a shrink? Big fucking deal; I can handle that, especially since I am already falling for the other sides of Dylan that are everything I was hoping to get from Robert but never did. Me, on the other hand… What guy wants a woman who comes with ties to a disgusting world of organized crime and an ex-boyfriend who is like a chronic illness she can’t shake? No shrink can get me out of the Robert situation. It’s all on me, and I am afraid Dylan will walk away from this along with the potential of what could be something nice between us.

“Don’t play games with me. This guy is not something you can stay secretive about.”

“I’m not playing games. I am trying to resolve this.”

“You’re not doing a very good job. Maybe you really don’t want to end it with him.”

That sends a little pang of hurt through me. Dylan’s jaw is clenched and his crossed arms show how much he is closing himself off from me at this moment. I understand that. He has been through enough and has to protect himself.

“No, I’m definitely done with him,” I reply, looking around to make sure no one is on the sidewalk and can hear us. In a lower voice, I tell him, “I wouldn’t be in your home, doing those things with you if I still had feelings for Robert. That’s not who I am.”

“Let’s eat lunch and then we have the conference call this afternoon. After that, we’re going home.” He puts his hand firmly on my back and guides me into the diner.

“What about the gym? Aren’t you going to meet Carson after work?”

“I’ll work out at home—with you,” he says quietly so the diner patrons don’t hear.

“Is that the excuse you’ll use with Carson?”

“I don’t have to say anything to Carson. He’s got me all figured out.”

***

We are going
home
. I am thrilled with the way it sounds as if we are a couple. We have managed to stay off everyone’s radar at work. After a couple of weeks, they are used to seeing us drive in to work together and the little showdown debates we have over clients in our office, yet they seem oblivious to our mutual attraction.

As I pull my Honda out of the lot with Dylan laughing at my cautious, repetitive looks to the right and left—as if this country road is the same as entering onto the highly competitive on-ramp of the 495 deathtrap in Jersey—Cooper zooms in front of us on his Harley, smiling as he guns it and roars down the road.

“Ass.” Dylan shakes his head.

“Oh, stop. He’s nice.”

I drive us home at a leisurely speed.

“I’m going to take a nap. Let me know when we get there,” Dylan says, feigning sleep. “Maybe it’s about time we start taking my bike into work.”

“I don’t know about that,” I say sarcastically. “People might think we’re a couple if we show up with me holding on to you for dear life. You wouldn’t want that.”