A Way to Fix Things

TATE

I sighed—again—as I thought about how the day had gone from decent to perfect then straight to shit all before lunch.

The look on Emerald’s face as she left me in traffic was burned into my mind and threatened to turn me into the Hulk or some simpering idiot with no backbone to speak of. Possibly both.

She was so pissed off. I’d never seen that level of anger before, so I had no idea how the hell to handle it.

What made it worse was that there were tears in her eyes, like she was seconds away from crying her heart out.

God, I hoped she wasn’t on the sidewalk somewhere, curled in a ball and sobbing alone.

When she flipped me the bird, I decided it might be best if I just let her deal with whatever she was dealing with and let her have some space. Women liked that when they were upset, right?

Fuck, what I wouldn’t give to have a sister right now. Or a mother that wasn’t probably drunk on mimosas.

Hell, I’d take a cousin that had tits at this point, but everyone was either a male or so damn far up their own assholes, they couldn’t tell which end was where.

I did, however, have a friend that might have a bit of insight that I sorely lacked when it came to the other gender.

He was going to give me shit for this. I knew he was going to. That was how Vince was. Helpful but an absolute dick.

“What did you fuck up this time?” he said when I called.

“I don’t know,” I groaned.

“From that sound, I’m going to assume it has something to do with a spunky little spitfire named Emerald. Took a little longer than I thought it would, but still well within the first six hours. So, what did you do?”

“I don’t even know that,” I huffed. “She just…got out of the car and left.”

“Wow. Okay, well. You’re fucked six ways to Sunday,” he laughed after a minute of silence.

“What? How do you even know that?” I asked him.

“I have put more effort into women than getting them to spread their legs, Tate,” he said, probably rolling his eyes.

“Fine. How do I fix this?” I sighed, sitting in the plush chair behind my desk in my home office.

“Has she called? Texted? Showed up? How long ago did this happen?”

“About an hour and nothing. Complete silence,” I said.

“Well, what happened?”

I told him everything. Of course, I got an earful about dropping a marriage on her brother and causing a fight between them.

I didn’t expect him to turn into a bear and go lumbering down the hallway to start yelling at her, but my understanding of a normal sibling relationship was clinical at best.

My brothers and I didn’t get along. It was safe to say that we hated each other. Well, I certainly hated Leo. Devon was just an idiot with no sense of responsibility, and that pissed me off.

“Jesus, Tate,” Vince said when I finished recounting the day’s events. “In the last ten months, have you noticed ~nothing~ about her at all?”

Of course I fucking noticed. How could I not? She was so effortlessly beautiful, it always stunned me stupid every morning I saw her.

She always had a pen in her hair and one behind her ear when she was working and wondered where they had all gone.

Her neck would twitch, right by her jaw, when she was irritated, then she’d have this sickly sweet tone that even a child would find condescending.

She hated salad but always ate the croutons and olives, sometimes dipped in dressing. She had a scar on the inside of her wrist that looked like she had cut herself somehow.

There was a hint of golden red in her light brown hair that you wouldn’t see anywhere else, but in sunlight, it looked like polished copper, almost.

I noticed a lot about Emerald. I had tried to ignore the pull I felt for the first few months she worked for me, but I couldn’t.

That’s when I started texting her at night. She was funny and sarcastic, with just enough bite to be sexy as fuck in a message.

But the past twenty-four hours had proven that actually ~hearing~ the things she said, the sound of her voice, the witty remarks she always seemed to have on hand in our messages, actually hearing the tone she used…

All this was infinitely better.

And, fuck me, her laugh. It was like warm honey being poured into every part of my being. Just thinking about it had my heart twisting in anticipation.

“Emerald is not one of those women who can just be given something and be happy,” Vince said slowly. “Shoving money at a problem is only going to make her resent you.”

“I’m not shoving money at a problem, Vince. I’m trying to help her.” I frown.

“By throwing money around. Did you even ask her if she would be okay with it? You didn’t. You just told her,” he said, annoyed. “You care about her, don’t you? That’s why you were insisting it should be her, isn’t it?”

“She’s been invaluable the past ten months,” I said.

“Bullshit. That look you had this morning, telling me to back the fuck off? That wasn’t acting, Tate. That was real.” He snorted.

“I’ve told you for years that your unwillingness to deal with women for longer than a few hours was going to come back and bite you in the ass.

“Fortunately, I happen to think she’s good for you, so I’m going to help you sort this mess out some. Let’s start with you throwing the very little you know about women out the fucking window.

“Emma isn’t your average woman.”

“No shit,” I agreed.

“What you did, Tate, offended her pride, and she has a lot of it if she can put up with you,” he snapped at me.

“A hit to the pride hurts a fuck ton more than anything else. She also seems to hate it when someone judges her, so I’d wager she has a pretty solid view of herself.

“Not ego, exactly, but she knows her self-worth and won’t accept anything demeaning. That’s two for two, jackass.”

“Jesus, I really am fucking up left and right with her.” I groaned and let my head fall back on my chair.

“Understatement, but we’ll start there,” he agreed.

“Women like flowers, right?”

“Not Emerald.” He snorted.

“How do you know all of this?” I asked him.

“Down, boy. I just talk to her. She hates flowers, fruity drinks that aren’t juice, the smell of citrus air freshener, and raw fish.

“Look, I can’t tell you how to fix this, but I can tell you that whatever you do, it needs to have thought to it,” he said with an exasperated sigh.

“You could make her a paper card that says ‘sorry I’m a fuck-up’ in crayon, and it would mean more than some stupid flowers or shit.

“For her, the thought really does count. Dig deep, Tate, and I’m not talking about into your wallet. I have to go. Try not to fuck up more than you already have, okay?”

He hung up on me, and I was damn confused. At least Vince sounded like he thought I might still have a chance of fixing things with Emerald.

She was the first and only thought I had when I learned about the will.

Vince was right. My complete lack of knowledge when it came to the deeper layers of women was not doing me any favors, but I’d never felt the need to get emotionally involved with a woman.

Not until Emerald walked into my life.

Jumping into this marriage clause with her scared the shit out of me. I didn’t ~do~ relationships.

I’d tried a few of them when I was younger, but they fell apart so damn fast it just wasn’t worth it. I couldn’t be bothered to try again after the last one, and that was nearly a decade ago before I went to college.

But for Emerald? I was sure as fuck going to try.

Part of me felt like a total prick for even thinking about using her like this, but that possessive asshole part of me was already tucking her close and snarling like some wild beast-man thing.

I needed to make this right, but out of all the things I knew about Emerald, none of it was going to help me right now.

Her brother might be able to help, but I didn’t know how to get in touch with him, and after this morning, I don’t think he’d tell me anything more than a very heartfelt “fuck you.”

“What says ‘thoughtful’ but not ‘expensive’?” I muttered to myself, tapping my fingers on the desk to my side. “Ten months with her and I have nothing. This shouldn’t be that difficult.”

The only thing I could think of that would mean a lot would be her father, but no one can bring back the dea—.

“That’s it!” I shouted and jumped up, hitting my knee on the desk. “Ow, fuck! Shit! I need an address and a phone number. Damn it!”

I sat down again and rubbed my aching knee as I logged into the company database and looked up Emerald’s personnel file.

Barbara LaRue was listed as her emergency contact, and the relationship was marked as other, but I’d have to take a chance.

I picked up the phone and made the call.

Two hours later, I was wiping my suddenly sweaty palms on my pants before I knocked on the door of an apartment on the edge of the suburbs where Barbara LaRue took care of June Wells, Emerald’s mother.

It was a nice place in a good neighborhood. A hell of a lot better than the shady shoebox where Emerald was living. No wonder she had nothing left. This place had to be killer in rent every month.

“Yes?” An older dark-skinned woman answered the door. “Oh, you must be Tate. Come in. I’ll let June know you’re here.

“Just be warned, she’s taking a turn after the trip to the zoo, so she might seem a bit confused from time to time.”

“Thank you.” I nodded as I ducked, out of habit, through the door.

Okay. Maybe Emerald was right and I was slightly on the freakishly tall side. I will ~never~ tell her that, though.

Barbara led me to a couch in the living room, and I looked around as I went to sit down.

It was a cozy place, full of little trinkets and Post-it Notes everywhere. One said, M*A*S*H~ @ 10 p.m. on Channel 64~. It was stuck to the remote control, so I assumed they were reminders.

There were photos on the walls labeled with names and relationships. Lance, Emerald, and Barbara I recognized. There was one of a man that looked dark and cloudy labeled ~Mark—Husband~.

So this was Emerald’s father. He looked like a mountain bear. Broad shoulders, wide chest, trees for arms and legs, but he had a face that immediately made me think of Santa Claus.

Cheery eyes, cheeks rosy like he just finished laughing when the picture was taken, his nose was slightly more hawk-like than I would think Santa would have, and he had a thick short, well-cared-for beard.

“Well, I can see what the fuss is all about.” I heard a voice address me, and I looked away from the row of photos on the wall to see the woman that had my body feeling clammy.

Emerald’s mother.

“You have my daughter in quite the pickle, young man,” she said, gently scolding me, but scolding nonetheless, as she sat on the love seat to my right.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen her so… Barb? Did we see Emerald today?”

“Yes, June. She was very upset,” Barbara said, handing her a pill and a glass of ice water.

“More than that.” She frowned.

“Distraught,” Barbara supplied.

“Ah. Yes. Have I had lunch today?” She frowned and took her medicine.

“Yes. You ate with Emerald. You had a chicken salad at the zoo. You threw the pickle at her and told her to unpucker.” Barbara laughed.

“Why would I do that?” she asked, handing the glass back.

“She told you that you needed to be resting.”

“Such a bossy girl.” June shook her head. “Do you know my daughter?”

“That’s actually why I’m here.” I nodded. “She told me that there was a fire shortly after your husband passed away and that there weren’t many pictures left that weren’t damaged too badly.”

“That’s right.” She nodded sadly. “We came home to an inferno after laying Mark to rest. It was a lot for Em. She was very close with Mark, so it was like she lost him twice.”

“Do you have any of the ones that made it?” I asked. “I’d like to have them restored so they aren’t lost.”

“You know”—she smiled a wicked, knowing smile—“that just might work. You really got her worked up. Hm. Who are you again?”

“I’m Tate. I’m kind of dating your daughter, Emerald,” I answered.

“Emerald? No, she’s getting married. It’s kind of backward, but I can tell she has some pretty deep feelings for this man of hers.

“It’s going to be a lot of work and require a whole lot more forgiveness, but I hope it works out. My baby girl deserves so much more than what she’s settling for.”

“I completely agree. She deserves the world, Mrs. Wells.” I nodded.

“Oh. ~You’re~ Tate. Emma’s Tate.” She suddenly beamed. “I think I like you. Maybe. Have I forgotten recently?”

“A few times, but it’s okay.” I nodded.

“Oh dear, how embarrassing.” She flushed slightly.

“I kind of figured it out, and Emerald told me the rest. It’s just how your brain is right now. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” I shook my head.

“I’m so foggy.” She frowned and shook her head. “I think I need to go to sleep.”

“Of course. Let me get you situated, and I’ll make sure Tate gets what he needs before he leaves,” Barbara said, helping June off the couch, who was suddenly looking very tired and frail.

After a moment, Barbara came back with an old album and a box of old frames.

“The worst ones were in the frames. The heat melted them to the glass, and the water kind of warped them.

“The album isn’t much better for the first few pages, but that’s all that was salvaged,” she said. “Personally, I hope you can save this one most of all.”

She pulled up a frame with a very distorted photo inside. I could tell there were four people all pressed together in typical group photo fashion, but there wasn’t much else I could make out.

“It’s the worst one out of them, but I’ve been told it was an important day for them,” she explained. “One of those pivotal moments.”

“I’ll see what can be done,” I nodded. “Thanks for this.”

“You better not hurt her,” she said, getting very serious and fierce all of a sudden.

“That girl has taken on far more than she should have to make sure her mother has stability during all of this. She’s as stubborn as they get, but you take care of her, Tate King. You do her right.”

“I’m trying my best. It’s not going well, but I hope I can change that for her.”

“Good, because this family has been hurt enough.” She nodded and showed me to the door.