A Little Bit of Déjà Vu (19 page)

“You had that straight.”

“And I couldn’t bear the thought of not being there to watch my child grow up. I wasn’t just concerned about me.” Jake sighed. “I was worried about Maggie’s reputation, too. I didn’t want the whole world pointing at her and saying, ‘
There goes the girl that football player knocked up.’
”

“And they would’ve. Sex sells. The tabloids stay in business because people buy them.”

“Tell me about it,” Jake muttered, remembering how scared and powerless he’d felt.

If only someone could’ve thrown a penalty flag for stupidity that night and let him replay it.

~~~

Margie let Jake accompany her to the florist that evening while Alex and Emma studied for their exams. In truth, she would’ve preferred he stay home, except it was his yard they were decorating. Between the ten centerpieces and a half dozen huge floral arrangements in pinks, purples, and white to fill out the flora in his garden, they ordered enough to host their own flower show—especially if they included the boutonnieres and the bouquets.

She chose white roses and stephanotis for Emma’s bouquet and pink roses and baby’s breath for her own.

Jake looked ready to choke when he heard how much the tiny, white star-shaped flowers cost. “Can’t you just get roses with white carnations instead?”

“No. Stephanotis is a symbol for happiness in marriage. I’m paying for this, so why should you care?”

“I don’t. But you gave me a hard time over ordering a little gourmet chow. At least, we’ll get to
eat
the food.”

“Tell you what.” She shot a smug smile at him. “After the reception, you can snack on any part of my bouquet you’d like.”

After returning to Margie’s condo, they sat around the dining room table with the kids and compiled a guest list. Emma’s face became a rigid mask when she read the proposed names Alex had written down.

“I don’t want Phil or Brandy at our wedding.” She slashed her pen across their names.

“Em, they’ve been hanging out with the same crowd I’ve been part of all through high school. They’ll make a stink if I invite everyone else and not them.”

“I thought Phil bugged you, and you keep insisting you hate the way Brandy keeps coming on to you. Now I wonder if you really do.”

It seemed her daughter had inherited some of her father’s insecurity. It didn’t bode well for the kids’ marriage—particularly considering Alex’s good looks and talent.

The older Jake’s son got, the more interest he would attract from women. And that attention would undoubtedly triple when Alex inherited Warrington Enterprises. Money and success were a powerful aphrodisiac.

“Damn it, Emmy.” Alex slapped the table. “I’ve told you a dozen times, I’m not interested in her.”

“Maybe so, but your eyes are sure interested in her big boobs. I’ve caught you looking at her when my back’s turned.”

Jake reached over and squeezed Emma’s hand. “Do you remember what we talked about in class the other day?”

“Yeah. So?” She yanked her hand away and glared at him, obviously resenting his interference.

“A guy’s sexual radar runs all the time. Asking Alex not to notice an attractive woman is like him asking you not to breathe. He can’t help doing it.”

“My dad never looked at anyone but my mom.”

Jake smirked at Margie as he told Emma, “Your father was past his sexual prime before you were even born.”

Margie’s mouth dropped open. “Are you implying Dan was over the hill?”

“Implying? Hell, no. I’m saying it straight out.” Jake turned back to her daughter. “Alex has more testosterone pumping in him right now than he’ll ever have again. If you don’t trust him, we might as well not bother sending these invitations. Believe me, I know what I’m talking about. His mother’s jealousy is the main reason she and I ended up divorced.”

“Maybe his mom had good reason to feel that way.” Emma wrinkled her nose as if she’d smelled something putrid. “I saw you making out with Ms. Garner after school. If you’re seeing her, why’d you kiss my mother?”

Margie glowered at him while Alex did a double take and sputtered. “You and the guidance counselor?”

Jake’s eyes closed. “It’s not what it seemed like.”

“It never is,” Margie muttered. Apparently her daughter’s opinion of him had dropped to a new low.

Emma nibbled on her lip and moved from her chair into Alex’s lap. “It’s not you I don’t trust. It’s Phil and Brandy.”

Margie didn’t blame her. She’d lost count of the number of times that year Emma had complained about the two teens giving her a hard time.

“I’m not crazy about them, either.” Alex pressed his face in the crook of Emma’s neck. “But they’re still part of my group of friends.”

Margie cleared her throat. “I can see both your points of view. But, Alex, your whole social circle is going to change after you get to Penn State. I think you should only invite guests you think you’ll remain friends with. In other words, the people you genuinely like and respect.”

Jake glanced at Emma and snorted under his breath. “Guess that leaves me out.”

He could say that again. At the rate he was moving up Emma’s top-ten list of despicable people, by the time the wedding rolled around, she’d be declaring him the Anti-Christ.

~~~

Tuesday evening, Jake insisted on helping Margie write and address the invitations at her condo while Alex took Emma to the doctor. She glanced over at Jake slapping postage stamps on the envelopes. “Simon said you called him last night about his training and tutoring. Thank you.”

“So what’d he decide?” Jake asked.

“He’s agreed to meet with me Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays this summer. If you could spend some time with him on Tuesdays and Thursdays, we may get him reading well enough for him to keep up in school next year with extra help.”

Jake’s eyebrows lifted. “So this means I have a quarterback in September?”

“As long as he can remain eligible. I’ll continue tutoring him as much as I can outside of school next year.”

“That sounds great. So what do we still have left to do for this wedding?” he asked.

“Not much. You’ve taken care of booking a DJ, and I’ve hired the photographer. I’m taking Emma for a dress tomorrow afternoon.”

His forehead wrinkled. “Doesn’t it take a couple of months to order a wedding gown?”

“I talked to Abby Foster on my way home this after—“

“Doc Foster’s wife?”

Margie nodded as she licked an envelope. “She owns the boutique in town, Abby’s Closet. She designs her own line of dresses and does custom tailoring and alterations. I was hoping maybe she could work a miracle for us. Anyway, she told me she has about a dozen used wedding gowns she’s selling on consignment. She suggested altering one to fit Emma. She said she has several mother of the bride dresses she thinks would suit me, too.”

“That sounds good.”

“Oh, and you and Alex still have to be fitted for tuxes.”

“And then we’re finished?”

“Yup.” She smiled. “Aren’t you thrilled? We won’t have to see each other again for ten whole days.”

“Aren’t you forgetting about graduation a week from tomorrow? And why would you think that would make me happy?”

It had been a stupid assumption on her part. Jake obviously enjoyed the hours they were forced to spend together and took great delight in torturing her with innuendo and references to their sordid past. Every hour in his company refreshed the pain she’d suffered years ago. Little by little, he reopened the wound she’d thought Dan had healed.

“I don’t know. Maybe it was a simple case of projection—placing my feelings of ecstasy onto you.” She stuffed an invitation into an envelope. “As a psychologist, you, of all people, should understand.”

“About projecting your feelings on someone else? Yes.” He sneered. “I think I have a vague concept of that.”

“I was referring to my denial—subconsciously forgetting things I don’t want to remember.”

“Well, I’d still like to take you and Emma out to celebrate both of your birthdays.”

“Forget it.” It would be the last birthday she’d have Emma to herself.

The front door banged open, and Alex stormed in. “I’m sorry, I just don’t like him!”

Emma planted her feet in the doorway and crossed her arms over her chest. “Why? Would you just tell me that? You haven’t given me one good reason.”

Jake jumped up from the dining table and hurried into the living room. “What’s wrong? Is everything okay with the baby?”

Alex slumped in the armchair. “Everything is just
swell
.”

A baffled expression wrinkled Emma’s brow as she slammed the door. “For some reason, which your son refuses to tell me, he doesn’t like Dr. Brennan. I thought he was great. Alex wants me to find someone else to deliver the baby.”

Margie squeezed Alex’s shoulder. “I agree you should have some say over which doctor Em uses, but you have to give her a reason if you reject someone she likes.”

Alex turned his face away. “The guy’s way too young. There’s no way he can know what he’s doing.”

Jake’s eyes rolled. “My eighteen-year-old thinks thirty-five is young. Paul Brennan has an excellent reputation.”

“Well, I don’t like him.” Alex scowled.

“Yeah, and I can guess why.” Jake chuckled. “It’s not because he’s too young. Tell Emma what your real problem is.”

Alex glared at his father.

Jake glanced at Maggie. “The guy looks like a young Bruce Willis.”

Emma knelt by Alex’s chair. “Is that really it?”

“Yes. I don’t like the way he smiles at you. And I don’t want him touching you or looking at you down there. You won’t even let
me
see—” Alex clamped his mouth shut.

Margie raked her teeth over her lower lip. He sounded just like Dan. Her husband had begged her to use a female doctor.

Emma stood and jammed her fists into her hips. “Tough. I refuse to let you dictate to me the way my dad always did to my mom. Unless you have an objection to Dr. Brennan’s ability to care for our baby and me, you can just suck it up. As your dad said last night, if you can’t trust me, than we have no business getting married.”

Margie stared at her daughter. She’d never seen her assert herself that way before. “Em, your dad didn’t dictate to me.”

Her daughter clapped her hand over her mouth, smothering her cynical laugh. “Right. That’s why it took you until you were thirty-six and he was dead before you got LASIK surgery, had your ears pierced, or highlighted your hair. I saw how nuts it made Daddy if you even smiled at the mailman.”

Jake applauded loudly. “I’m glad to see you stand up for yourself, Emma. Although, I have to say, that’s the first disparaging remark I’ve ever heard you make about your dad.”

It was the first time Margie had ever heard Emma speak about Dan that way, too. Maybe her daughter was finally coming to terms with his death.

Emma lifted her chin a fraction and scowled. “I was
not
putting my father down.”

In only a matter of days, Jake had evidently gone from being a man who could walk on water in Emma’s eyes, to someone less impressive than Peewee Herman.

She spun toward Margie. “Everybody feels jealous sometimes, Mom. You shouldn’t have been such a wuss, letting Daddy stop you from making yourself look nice. You spent so much time reassuring him—it was only natural he worried about what you did while he was away for days on end.”

Emma waved toward Alex. “It’s like when
he
keeps insisting he’s not interested in Brandy Harris. After the fifth time, it starts sounding like he’s trying to convince himself—or he’s got a guilty conscience.”

A troubled look flitted across Alex’s face while he stared at the carpet in stony silence. Maybe the kid really was struggling with an attraction to the cheerleader.

Jake cocked an eyebrow at Margie. “I think what your daughter is trying to say is what Shakespeare put so eloquently—
The lady doth protest too much
.”

“Right.” Emma nodded.

Okay. So Margie might have been guilty of overcompensating and catering to Dan’s paranoia. But even if she had occasionally allowed her husband to dominate her, she didn’t appreciate her daughter treating her to this eye-opener in front of Jake and his son.

Although, the saddest part wasn’t realizing her pandering to Dan’s ego might have contributed to his insecurity, or that he might have had more faith in her love if she’d been more assertive. The true tragedy was she’d lost something else very precious in the process—her daughter’s respect.

Chapter 11

Jake scribbled his signature on the sign-out sheet in the high school’s main office on Friday afternoon only minutes after his last class ended. The secretary stopped him as he pulled open the door. “The superintendent asked for you to stop by before you leave.”

“Sure. Would you let Mr. Petrillo know I’m on my way?”

Jake jogged to the adjacent building, furrowing his brow. Maybe the board had finally approved his contract. When he reached the balding superintendent’s office, Anthony Petrillo waved toward the chair next to his desk and leaned back, resting his forearms on his middle-aged paunch. “Sit down, Jake.

“What’s up, Tony?” Jake folded himself into the armchair.

“I assume you heard Vice Principal Denton suffered a heart attack two nights ago?”

“Yes. But I understood it was a fairly minor one.”

“It was. Unfortunately, he won’t be able to participate in the graduation exercises. The seniors petitioned us to ask you to take his place and say a few words.”

Jake’s chest swelled with pride. The kids had chosen him out of well over a hundred teachers. “I’d be honored. Truthfully, I was hoping you had some word about my contract. I heard the board held an executive session last night. Do I have a job next year, or not?”

The bushy mustache over Tony’s tight lips twitched. “That’s the other thing I wanted to talk to you about. Someone mentioned your son is getting married right after graduation.”

“Right. A week from tomorrow. You should be getting an invitation any day.”

“Thanks. My wife and I’d love to come. The reason I asked is the scuttlebutt is your son’s fiancée, Emma, is pregnant.”