Page 80 of Take Hold of Me

Pointing to a two-story white house with black shutters, I reply, “That one.” The lawn looks greener than ever and is nary a hair above dear FPU’s strict height requirement. Terracotta planters with perfectly-manicured topiaries sit on either side of the white front door. No weeds dare grow in between the pavers on the driveway and front walk. It’s sterile. Austere. Like its occupants.

“It looks so nice and welcoming.”

I glance at her. “Welcoming is not a word ever associated with this house.” I better remind her of the game plan, my promise notwithstanding. “Listen, Ems, let’s just go in, say hi and then get out as quickly as possible.”

“I will follow your lead.” She reaches up to the back of my neck and fixes my collar. “There. Now you are perfect.”

“Thanks.” I’m not perfect. Not by a long shot.

Together, we cross the street and walk up the paver walkway. Arriving at the front door, I debate whether I should ring the doorbell or just go inside. Heavy footfalls from behind us cause me to step behind Ems, my heartrate accelerating.

“Hey, is that you, Wills?”

Still protecting Emilie—although I’m sure this is not someone out to hurt her, I turn and come face-to-face with my former football coach, now the town’s mayor. Of course he’d be invited—FPU always must hobnob with the “elite.” Sticking my hand out, I say, “Mayor Larsen.”

He grips my hand and gives it an unnecessarily firm shake. “Wills. I’ll be damned. Haven’t seen you around these parts in ages.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Yeah? You’ll have to tell me all about it.”

Emilie clears her throat.Shit. I step aside and make the awkward introduction.

“Nice to meet you, Emilie. It is Emilie, right?” Winking at me, my former coach-turned-mayor says, “Let’s get you two inside. I’m sure your father will be delighted that you’re here.”

I manage not to roll my eyes at him as he breezes by us and walks right into the house. Motioning for Emilie to go ahead of me, I cross the threshold right behind her. Immediately, my hands start to sweat. I rub them up and down my charcoal colored slacks, reminding myself that I’m now a twenty-eight-year-old business owner—not a kid who refused to go into the Marines.

People are everywhere. In the dining room to my left, they walk around the table filled with chafing dishes. To my right in the formal living room, they sit on the furniture Three and I never were allowed to even look at. In front of me in the family room, they huddle around the mantle lined with framed photos of my family members in uniform. Grandpa, FPU and Three all stand at attention.

A table at the side of the dining room is set up with my parents’ wedding photo and an old photo of the four of us from when I was twelve. Guests have left their gifts there, so Ems and I place ours in the pile. Emilie grabs my hand, rubbing her thumb over the back of my palm. “Do you see your parents?”

My tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth. Swallowing to try to dislodge it, I shake my head.

“Let us find them.”

She propels me forward next to her, making her way toward the family room. The kitchen is to the left. Mom will be in there. She always is.

Before we even make it all the way into the family room, Mayor Larsen pops back in front of us, leading FPU. “I told you he was here,” the jovial mayor spouts, beer in hand.

When he spies me, he pulls up to his full height and addresses his “illustrious” guest. “Thanks, Mayor. I appreciate you letting me know.”

My hand closes ever harder around Emilie’s. FPU looks my girlfriend up and down. When he cannot find fault with her—who could?—his eyes lock on our intertwined hands. I loosen my grip. Can’t let him see how he affects me.

“Hi. I’m Brent.” He extends his hand toward Emilie, causing her to let go of my hand.

I should be doing the introductions. Before she opens her lips, I jump in, “This is Emilie.” No need to give her last name or her status. He doesn’t deserve it. She shakes his hand and returns hers to mine. No European double kiss. While I’m processing this fact, she squeezes my hand as if to give me strength.

He dips his head once. “William.”

I mirror his head bob in greeting, but don’t utter a word.

He returns his attention to Emilie. “So, what do you do? Help around the gym?” Although the words seem innocent enough, the sneer with which they’re delivered is unmistakable. He thinks she’s a dumb blonde. And my newest career choice is unworthy of the Sumner name, even if Three did start it.

My mind is a blank and going a mile a minute, all at once. Ems squeezes my hand again. “MonsieurSumner, I can only wish to work with Wills at Complete someday. It is a lovely gym, filled with great people. But, for right now, my job takes me away from LA so I cannot commit.”

FPU snorts. I close my eyes, feeling the pressure build within my body. I don’t have to defend myself from this asshole, but he can’t cross the line and look down his pointy nose at Ems. “Emilie is a—”

Before I can put him in his place by announcing he’s in the presence of a true supermodel, not some minor, wannabe “celebrity” politician like the mayor, Mom interrupts. “Wills! I heard you came. We’re so happy you made it, aren’t we Brent?”

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