Summer Attractions (24 page)

Well it wasn’t going away. He’d said it, and he’d said it to her
boss
, like she was some sort of random girl that wasn’t going to need Nick’s professional respect in the future. There was no taking it back.

The elevator dinged its arrival and Jemma walked in, wishing she hadn’t just been expecting them to head downstairs together, happy and carefree and still intact, just five minutes before.

She let all her anger pour into her expression and turned to face him silently, staring right into his bleak expression as the elevators shut between them.

She didn’t know where to go, and at first Jemma hovered uncertainly by the elevator bay, wondering if she should even try to get her key changed. But the thought of trying to explain even a portion of what had just happened was overwhelming and Jemma didn’t trust herself to get through it without bursting into tears. She couldn’t stay in the lobby either. The fear that he might still try to follow her and make her listen to a half-assed apology finally sent her through the front doors outside into the growing dusk.

It was even worse outside, every street she wandered down familiar because she’d already walked them all, and she hadn’t been alone.

Finally Jemma ended up at the beach, because sand and water and sky was always sand and water and sky. She settled down on the ground, watching but not really seeing as the tourists packed their bags and shook out their beach towels.

It grew darker and her mood shifted almost imperceptibly from the dull ache of hurt feelings to the scorching fire of uncompromising rage.

As she sat there, digging her fingers into the sand, Jemma thought about what a fucking idiot he was. He’d been the one to ask
her
to go on a date. And then only to turn around and less than twenty-four hours later claim to her boss that, no, he didn’t like her. He’d only done it so she would be some nice little biddable female, too besotted to dare to question his authority.

Jemma burned with anger, her eyes dry as she stared out at the distant waves. It didn’t matter that she knew deep down that he didn’t mean it, didn’t matter that he’d almost certainly regretted it the moment it came out of his mouth. He’d still said it and he’d still told someone who was supposed to respect her. That wasn’t sort of the thing that she planned to forgive quickly or easily. Or ever.

Something Rio had taught her was that Jemma was responsible for the best version of herself. She couldn’t blame Colin for falling in love with her or for not falling out of love with her on a convenient schedule. She could only blame herself for letting the guilt of it swamp her and leave her stuck in a rut for years
.

She couldn’t change Gabe’s stupidity or his blindness. All she could do was make a promise to herself that she wasn’t going to accept anything less than the spectacular. She deserved better.

With that promise echoing in her mind, Jemma hailed a cab and took a taxi to an expensive restaurant she’d been eyeing since she’d arrived. She bought herself a delicious celebratory dinner and as she sipped her red wine, tried to forget how lonely it felt.

She knew she was better off alone than with someone who didn’t treat her with respect, but the thought didn’t quite stick.

Returning to the hotel, she demanded her keys changed at the front desk, giving the concierge a hard resolute stare when he looked at her expectantly for an explanation.

She texted Gabe, ignoring the dozen pleading, apologetic messages that he’d sent.
You have the time it takes me to have one drink at the hotel bar to get yourself and any of your possessions out of my room.

He didn’t reply, but she watched with satisfaction as the print changed from
sent
to
read
, and then locked the phone, smiling up at the bartender with a gratitude she didn’t feel as he poured her another glass of wine.

One glass stretched into two and she was both relaxed and determined when she took the elevator up to her floor.

To her satisfaction, he’d emptied her room of anything that belonged to him, and he was nowhere to be found.

She was totally fine until the moment she crawled into bed, and discovered that he’d left one thing behind: his scent on her sheets.

If she cried into the pillow, then the determined, proud Jemma of a few hours ago didn’t need to know.

“Are you sure you’re not being too hard on him?” Kimber asked, popping a few kernels of popcorn into her mouth.

Her races over and her mother sufficiently cowed by an article that was sweeping Rio and the world, Kimber was free to make use of Jemma’s plus one tickets and as much junk food as she could stuff in her face. And she’d done exactly that, spending all her time with Jemma during the last three days and refusing every interview offer that came her way.

“Can’t we talk about you?” Jemma complained, trying to focus on the next event they were setting up for. They were at the track and field stadium for an evening of hotly-anticipated races and Jemma was searching for her last big story. “You turned down an interview with Bob Costas.”

“I said everything that needed to be said. Repeating it only dilutes it. Besides, I got what I wanted.”

Yes, she had. After a brief, fraught standoff between Julia Holloway’s team of lawyers and
Five Points
, the US Olympic Committee had finally gotten fed up with the bad publicity and had very publicly sent Julia away from Rio and promised to make Kimber’s collegiate ambitions a reality. She was set to start at Stanford in a few weeks and couldn’t be happier with the end result.

Duncan was pretty happy too, because the whole story had made
Five Points
one of the most popular sports websites on the internet. Jemma had gotten fifty-four job offers in the last three days and had turned down every single one.

It made perfect, logical sense to not be Nick’s assistant anymore. It made perfect, logical sense for her to move onto something bigger and brighter and not worry about what Nick’s asshole friend had said about her once. But as it turned out that perfect, logical sense was bullshit.

Still, Jemma had finally called the maid yesterday and had her clean the room from top to bottom, including changing the sheets.
Progress
.

“I’m not saying Gabe wasn’t a jackass, because he was. Big time. But maybe you should give him a chance to apologize, at least,” Kimber said.

Jemma’s fingertips dug into the fabric of her jeans. “He’s apologized plenty. What he can’t do is rewind time and not say what he said.”

“Jemma,” Kimber said patiently, “he’s not in a sci-fi action movie. He isn’t Tom Cruise.”

“And thank god for that,” Jemma muttered. She glanced up and was really, really happy to see that the next race was about to start.

“You know the deal,” Jemma reminded her. “You come along, you watch the events.”

Kimber tilted her head and gazed at the runners lining up on the track. “But running is so
boring
.”

“And your room in the Olympic Village is . . .”

Kimber laughed, and just to hear it lightened Jemma’s melancholy enough that going through the motions felt bearable. “Even more boring.”

Jemma returned to the hotel much later that evening with a sunburned nose and a headache.

And pulled up short as she turned the corner from the elevator and saw Gabe sitting on the floor between their hotel rooms.

She nearly turned and went and back downstairs but she was tired and annoyed and sick to death of feeling this way.

He watched as she walked down the hall toward him. Jemma crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a frank stare. “Are you stalking me now? Should I call security?”

“You changed the key,” he said.

She should have been happy to hear that tonight was the first time he’d tried it. She wasn’t. She was only aware of another growing crest of fury that he’d tried to get into her room unannounced even though she’d shown absolutely zero interest in wanting to talk to him.

“Sounds like security it is,” Jemma said in a hard voice, starting to turn around to head back down the hall to the elevator and its house phone.

“No, wait,” he begged. “Don’t. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have tried it. It was wrong.”

Jemma stayed, even though she knew very well she shouldn’t.

He seemed surprised too, because he just stared at her, speechless, like the last thing he’d expected was for her to give him a chance to speak.

“Are you . . . are you letting me apologize?” he finally asked.

“I’ve not been stopping you, as the sheer number of texts and voicemails prove,” Jemma said, her voice harsh in the quiet of the hallway.

“I meant everything I said in them,” he said, and Jemma thought he probably believed it, from the earnest expression on his face and the desperation in his eyes.

But she wasn’t ready to forgive. Or to forget. The way she’d felt, that stomach-dropping, blood-curdling humiliation, that didn’t fade quickly. Or easily. No matter how many times and ways he could find to apologize.

When she didn’t say anything, he continued, voice lower, gravelly, full of an emotion that Jemma wouldn’t let herself analyze. “I didn’t mean it,” he said. “I was scared and stupid and Nick wouldn’t stop pushing.”

The pain rose in her chest like the worst sort of heartburn, making it hard to breathe. Jemma took a short breath and tried to stay calm, but even she could hear her voice rising as she spoke. “A little innocent teasing and you go telling my boss that you fucked me so you could control me?”

His eyes grew wide. Surprised. Like he hadn’t anticipated that she’d still be this pissed.

She was—and she was hurt and confused and a frustrating combination of all of the above that seemed to change like the mood ring she’d worn in seventh grade.

“Maybe we should talk about this in your room,” he said softly.

He didn’t get it, Jemma realized. He still thought he could somehow appeal to her better nature, to the girl who had fallen for him, who’d danced with him and slept on him and trusted him, and return everything back to the way it was.

“No,” she said firmly.

She saw him hesitate. “Your room,” Jemma said, because she found she did have something to say to him. Something so he might better understand the situation he’d placed them in. He hesitated longer, and she wondered what it was that he was hiding. Evidence of another girl, maybe?