Promise and Punishment, page 23
Al shrugged as if it were some simple explanation. “I stopped by your office and talked to Tommy. He mentioned how the team wasn’t pressing charges for the assault out in Bushwick but increasing the amount in damages instead. Not a bad move.”
“Oh, I love Tommy. How’s he doing?” Mama Meg chimed in with a smile.
“Fucking Tommy.” Parker tossed his napkin onto the table.
“Language, Parker,” Mama Meg snipped. “And enough of this jibber jabber. These cases are so boring, not something for dinnertime talk.” She stirred the ice in her freshly filled drink.
I sighed in relief, still rattled at the revelation of how Alejandro’s involvement with Natalie Brower seemed deeper than I realized. Who were they to each other, and had he gone out to Bushwick that night just for me or for the DJ in particular? I wasn't sure anymore, I wasn’t sure of anything, having still not checked my phone since arriving, committing myself to leaving it alone once I left the car. The truth was I was far too scared to look, bothered by two possibilities: either Alejandro had reached out or he hadn’t. Both options I hated.
My clouded thoughts momentarily parted with the sudden graze from Parker’s warm hand. We reached for our silverware, accidentally touching pinkies before pulling back. It could’ve been nothing, but the way we quickly looked up into each other’s eyes made it feel as though we were about to get caught.
Camilla glared between the both of us.
“I’d rather focus on how great it is having Mr. and Mrs. Spuddington back in the Hamptons,” Mama Meg clinked her spoon against her sangria.
Parker and Al groaned loudly as I dropped my fork.
“Mom,” Parker pleaded quietly, “not this again.”
Mama Meg shooed him away, fueled by the power of alcohol to share childhood stories.
“What is this now?” Camilla asked in a nervous laugh.
Mama Meg shoveled a scoop of potato salad onto her plate. “It was the summer of 2003. Gemma and I signed up for the Fourth of July Hamptons Hoedown and volunteered to bring potato salad. Could you believe it was the first time she’d ever had it? Honestly, Gemma was so proud of the creation, that she wanted nothing else to eat.” Parker buried his face into his hands as Al got up to get another drink, burping loudly as Mama Meg continued. “Of course, Parker followed her example, he was absolutely obsessed!”
Camilla’s glare was replaced with a distant stare, and I wondered if it had anything to do with how Mama Meg elongated the word obsessed.
“That’s not true,” Parker sighed as I held in my nervous laugh, but Mama Meg shushed him.
“You don’t know anything; you were obsessed and still are.” The whole room grew fiery hot, and I wanted to scream and die all at once. “They ate so much that we warned them they’d become spuds. But that didn’t stop them. I think all of the Hamptons ran out of potatoes by the end of that summer.” She rubbed Parker’s back, sighing with reminiscent endearment. “We started addressing them as Mr. and Mrs. Spuddington and even had a wedding right at the dock. Do you remember you two dressed up in the backyard? That cute little kiss and the vows!”
My palms grew terribly sweaty as I nodded, bracing for Camilla’s impending punch.
“Vows?” Camilla asked, clearly not thinking it was as cute as Mama Meg did.
“I promise to be your truest love,” Al howled, returning with a fresh glass of bourbon, reciting the words Parker declared an eternity ago. “I had the legal authority to make that come true too. No prenup either, good job on you, Gemma,” he winked at me as I sucked in my lips.
“Ugh! They grow up so fast.” Mama Meg sighed, her face now aglow by the tabletop candles as the nighttime shadows swept into the room. “Gemma even wore my ring,” she toyed with the diamond on her finger. “You know it’s yours, honey, when the day comes,” she smiled at Parker and me so lovingly.
“Mom!” Parker barked, looking over at Camilla who now shoved all her potato salad to the side of her plate.
“What?” she cried. “I’m your mother, I just know these things.” She held her hands up as Al shook salt all over his plate. I essentially stuffed the entire burger into my mouth, hoping not to be asked any more questions.
Camilla wiped her lips with the cloth napkin, scooting her chair back with a loud screech. “If you’ll excuse me.”
“Fuck,” Parker grumbled, looking over at me with a worried stare. I stared back, my mouth still full, nodding as if begging him to go check on her. He understood, glaring at Mama Meg. “No more Spuddington talk,” he scolded, then turned to Al. “And you, no more case talks, please.”
Al failed to listen as Parker stood up to chase Camilla.
“I thought it was cute,” Mama Meg looked back at me for approval. “You like the burger, hun?” She moved on as if she said nothing at all. I wanted to say the food was incredible, but I couldn’t even taste it. I couldn’t enjoy anything really, not fully at least. Sure, there were moments, instances, where I was luckily distracted, caught in some fantasy of how I envisioned everything to be. If it wasn’t Parker on my mind, then it was Alejandro, the very two people who had taken real estate on my entire life. But it wasn’t just them anymore, it was others too, people that I now knew because of them; Camilla and Natalie included.
Alejandro had always been secretive about his past, but now it was leaking out from the bourbon-fueled lips of Albert Jones. Something so private was said so nonchalantly, and now I couldn’t un-know it. What the hell was up with Alejandro and Natalie Brower, and why couldn’t he tell me more about her or the DJ he beat up? And if this wasn’t enough to think of, I was now also concerned for Camilla. I looked down at my plate, my mouth still filled as I finally answered Mama Meg.
“Everything’s perfect,” I replied, unintentionally dropping crumbs from my mouth. “Ab-so-lute-ly perfect…”
Chapter 27
Gemma
I pulled Andy towards my chest, listening to the pattering rain of a mellow Hamptons storm. It wasn’t too bad, not unbearable like the idea of knowing if Alejandro finally reached out or not.
It’d be so easy to do the things I wanted, to check for Alejandro’s reply, to peek into the life of Natalie’s husband. I knew I could but reserved myself at the possible cost of doing so.
“Should I look at my phone?” I asked Andy, holding him in my hand, unable to sleep. I turned his little head from left to right, answering ‘no’ to the question.
I placed him on the pillow beside me, exchanging him for the very thing he warned me against. “I’m just going to hold it, in case it goes off.” I excused myself, questioning my sanity as I explained my reasoning to a stuffed giraffe.
I rolled over, but stopped when I spotted the cherry cigarette I’d stolen from Alejandro on the floor. It must have fallen out from my bag. I wasn't sure why I thought it was smart to bring it, hopelessly wanting just some small part of him still close by. Honestly, it was all I had at the time, and the desire to taste his cherry lips suddenly felt like some unreachable itch. I lifted it up to my nose and shut my eyes, making everything much darker, and in the brief exciting moment, imagined him finding me all over again, lost in the shadows amongst the rain-filled night. Doing this was a bad idea, compelling me with the strangest desire to taste Alejandro once more, to do the unthinkable, to leave this house, brave the rain, and smoke this cigarette.
Andy fell over as I stood up, landing on the electric blue numbers of the bedside alarm clock. It was late, well past midnight, and I knew I had to be quiet, silently passing the door and hall as I made my way down the shadowed staircase.
Initially, I wanted to get out as fast as possible, but stopped myself as I reached the bottom, overtaken by the need to peer into the living room by my side. I didn’t know why I did this, or why I was so surprised by what I saw, but the sight itself felt calmer than any puff of cherry smoke.
There in the dark, peacefully undisturbed was Parker, doing as he promised, staying close by in case the storm became unbearable. That was sweet of him, I thought to myself, watching as he lay on the couch, covered in the warmth of a fluffy, grey blanket.
I stopped from getting closer, his ambient calmness like a remedy to my sleepless night that I so desperately needed. I knew if I were to lie within the nook of his body, that I’d instantly start to dream.
“Parker?” I whispered quietly, gauging the deepness of his sleep.
He didn’t respond.
I leaned against the arched doorway, admiring how the soft breaths he took exchanged themselves for the rise of his chest. As the rain fell and the light poured in, he seemed to glow like an angel; his hair unfixed, falling loosely like golden waves onto his pillow. There was something so perfect about his imperfect sleep; the way his lips parted, how his hands curled underneath his cheek.
“Parker…” I said once again. Parker, Parker, Parker. I couldn’t help but repeat his name in my mind, saying it without anger or disappointment as I had the past few weeks.
Twisting the cigarette in my hand, its filter brushed against my butterfly ring. In my palm were pieces of Alejandro and Parker, two men who inspired two different Gemmas. I wanted the cherry kisses and to be someone’s Butterfly, but romanticizing both versions didn’t make it any clearer on what version of myself I still wanted to be.
Was it possible that Parker felt like I did with Alejandro? Completely locked out of my life as I ran from my past? I worked so hard to keep that inside, and now it made me wonder if I was in the wrong this whole time.
This quiet realization was short lived, immediately fleeting as the loud clink of a dish jostled itself from the kitchen, catching my attention.
I wasn’t alone.
A small pendant light broke through the archway across from me, an insignificant accent to an otherwise darkened house that floated above Camilla. She sat at the counter, raking her fingers through her long, black hair, allowing it to fall over her striped cotton pajamas.
Jesus, she made me nervous, especially after the complicated dinner that ruined her night. I was sure she wanted to be alone, and I was sure her embarrassment from dinner never left. Honestly, I felt bad, and although it would’ve been easier to walk away, I knew there was something I had to do. I tucked the cigarette into my front pocket and clutched my phone.
“Can’t sleep?” I asked quietly, not wanting to startle her. She seemed unfazed, peeking over her shoulder before turning away.
“I guess… something like that,” she stirred a small cup of tea with a silver spoon. “And you?”
“Just thirsty,” I lifted a cup off a rack that hung below the cabinets. “Wanted some water.”
“Water? You’re not going to throw that in my face too, are you?”
Ouch.
Her words didn’t have their usual harshness attached, yet they stung, nonetheless. I couldn’t help but feel guilty, but forced myself to acknowledge that it was Camilla who was always determined to put me down first, not once making an effort otherwise to be friends. Typically, she always seemed so confident, but right now she was different, more guarded in a way that made her appear so uncomfortably visible.
“I don’t want to cause trouble. I just want to make sure you’re ok.”
“I’m perfect…” she massaged her temple, hiding the swollen puffs below her eyes. “Just like that stupid sleep mask on your forehead.”
“What?” I knitted my brows, snatching the silly mask off my head. It read, “Wake Me for Pizza,” and I thought it was cute, hardly warranted for such a nasty remark.
“Why do you hate me?” I questioned impatiently.
“I don’t…”
“Yes, you do. And don’t say that you don’t. I tried to be nice to you. I tried to be accepting of your relationship with Parker. I see how happy you make him and that should make me happy too, but it doesn’t, because you’re so unbelievably mean.” I stepped closer to the counter, more confident. “You hate me, and I don’t know why. But if there is something I can do to fix it, then just tell me, but don’t punish me because it’s easier for you to be mean than honest.”
Camilla stuck her hand out, halting me. It looked like she wanted to cry, but ran out of tears.
“I don’t hate you, Gemma,” she gritted. “I’m just… threatened by you.”
I jolted back.
Threatened? Me? The girl in the pink, silk pajamas with the squeaky voice? That was ridiculous, I literally had nothing compared to her.
“That doesn’t make sense. How can—” I barely asked before she cut me off.
“Do you think it’s easy? Being with a man who only talks about how amazing his friend is? His best friend? About how you two share so much history and traditions? And it’s not just the inside jokes and quirks either, it’s the way he stares at you, Gemma. It’s nauseating.”
“He absolutely does not stare at me.”
“Oh, Gemma, please,” she scoffed. “I’ve been compared to you since the day I met him, since the second I stepped into his office and saw your photo on his desk. I’ve never been enough, living in the shadow of the fabulous Gemma Rose Harrison.”
“We’re just friends.”
“Friends? Yeah, right. It’s so much more than that.”
“He chose you. What else is there?”
“Me? How could I ever be the one, when the one isn’t me?”
“Camilla, you’re wrong,” I defended, guarding myself from ever accepting that truth. God, I was so uncomfortable, her words like jabbing needles to my skin. All I could do was hunch my shoulders. “Parker doesn’t stare at me like he does you. There’s no one else. It’s you…” I reached for her hand, surprised by the warmth of her palm, and the fact that she didn’t pull away, but instead, choked back a sob.
“If you don’t see it, Gemma, then it’s because you’re choosing not to.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “I mean look at the guy, he’s sleeping soundly on the couch. That’s for you. I know it is. I’m nothing but a second choice, because Parker totally has feelings for you; the whole family does, and that’s the truth, and, god! I can’t believe I’m actually crying in front of you.”
She turned her cheek away from me, her tears nearly contagious, a foreign feeling I never knew was possible with her, yet here it was.
The truth was, I loved Parker, and beyond that I had already told him so. But at the end of the day, from years and years ago, despite his sweet rejection, the answer remained; Parker didn’t feel the way I did.
“Um… are you hungry?” I calmly let go of her hand, palming a tear from my cheek before turning away.
“Are you serious right now?”
“Of course. I’m asking for a reason. You might not know this, but Mama Meg only makes comfort food, and that’s exactly what you need. Did you even eat dinner?”
“No. Obviously.”
“Then you can’t think straight.” I stood from the counter. “You’re a smart girl, Camilla, but I’m telling you right now, you’re wrong about me and Parker.”
I made my way to a tin pan by the fridge, lifting its lid before pulling out a pair of forks from a drawer.
“I’m not wrong…” she sniffed.
“You are. Trust me. If Parker wanted me, he could have had me long ago, but that’s just not us. Things… are different, have been since we were kids.” I placed the tin between us as I passed her a fork. “Sure, we’re close, but not in the way you’re thinking. Have you ever asked him about it? I’m sure he’d tell you.” I dug my fork into the gooey center of the room temperature strawberry pie, chipping its crust.
Camilla stared at the fork, not yet touching it. “Of course not. It would just make me look insecure. I don’t want to seem like some obsessive psycho… like how I did tonight,” she looked completely mortified.
“Tonight was nothing… and you’re not a psycho. We are allowed to have feelings and insecurities. You should have just asked him, he’s a very open man. But if you won’t, then I guess I’ll just tell you myself.” I chewed a little harder with what I was about to admit. “Back in college I told Parker I had feelings for him. I thought what you thought; I was absolutely certain he liked me too, but it wasn’t true. He was nice about it, but the rejection stung. Bad.”
The room would have been silent, had my heart not been pounding in my ears.
“He rejected you?” she asked a little too hopefully, finally lifting the fork to take a reluctant scoop of pie. “What did he say?”
“That…” I paused, then recited the words that still killed me to admit out loud, “I was like a sister to him.”
If I believed for a second that we were on any type of friendly terms, this was it, the way her face lit up, her open mouth matching the size of her pupils, like she was enriched with the holiest of gossip.
“Sister?”
I nodded.
She took a quick bite before grimacing. “What a jerk!” Her statement made me snort. She was actually just as appalled as I was, both of us now concealing our laughs.
“I know! I was mortified, still am actually,” I admitted, sheepishly toying with the sugary red filling. “But he made it clear that there was nothing between us, at least, nothing you have to worry about.” I was good at pretending to be casual, but saying it out loud was as painful as it was humiliating. For a second, I was reliving the horror of that night, attempting to brush it off as if it were nothing, but my desire to make Camilla feel better suddenly had the opposite effect on me. Honestly, it hurt like a reopened wound.
“Relationships are weird. They can make you think and act in ways you never knew were possible, or worse, worry about issues that never existed.”
“You’re not wrong,” I rested my fork along the tin. “And for that reason, I owe you an apology. I shouldn’t have thrown that drink at you, Camilla. What I did was unacceptable, gross, and shouldn’t have ever happened. I’m really sorry,” I said, reeling from my confession, but adamant about setting our differences aside. Camilla sat suspiciously quiet, swallowing a rather large piece of pie before nodding.
