Never Really Over (Bremmy 3)

Chapterish 16

I got the tour. THE tour. It's just what you'd expect –the architectural charm and elegance of the Château, Mobile Star, and Florida Mansion all rolled into one property. The back grounds (can't even call it a backyard) sprawl for acres leading right to the inner Pacific.

The house, even in all its splendor, can't quite compete with the sailboat. I'm a sucker for boats, what can I say? I only see it from the back patio, but I can tell it's the best part about this place.

We have a morning cocktail with his parents, who ask all about Go Zen and my trip to Bali, and whether I am expanding into new merchandise or forging new partnerships. Nancy suggests pairing with an athletic apparel company for branding.

I almost choke on my Bellini. It's a casual morning.

"And this house –It's stunning," I tell his mom for maybe the tenth time.

"We just lucked into it really. Third generation. Been in the family for almost 70 years," she tells me.

I can't even fathom this place back in the '40s. Dream-level shit.

"You should see it at Christmas!" She says, flinging her hands up. The diamond tennis bracelet almost blinds me.

"You come here in winter?" I ask. "I imagine it must be freezing."

"Oh it is, but the decorations in town –Worth wearing a big winter coat..."

I tune her out unintentionally, losing myself in a reverie of this coastal island during holiday season.

So Josh's mom is inviting me to Christmas with them in this modern castle. I'm solid.

After the tour and the reintroductions to many family members and the cocktail quickie, Josh and I bring our bags to our room. He walks me upstairs and down several halls, his destination perfectly clear in this labyrinth of a mansion.

"Welcome to your weekend home," Josh says, pushing the door open.

"Damn," I whistle.

Our room is basically a hotel suite, complete with an en suite, a library-worthy bookcase, and stone balcony framed by open French doors. The sparkling blue water looks like a painting.

"I bet girls just die for this," I tease.

I drop my bag on the bench at the foot of the bed and walk to the balcony. It's much colder up here than it was 100 miles south. I'm glad I wore my chunky cable-knit.

"I wouldn't know," he says feebly. 

"Please." I scoff, spinning around, eyes bulging. "Are you saying –You've never brought another girl here?"

"Um, to this fiasco? This is the death sentence for Harding relationships," Josh laughs, shaking his head. "I learned from Troy's three ex-girlfriends that dumped him shortly after the Harding Summer Kickstart."

"I think you're safe," I nod. "No dumping plans."

"Ah, you say that now." Josh unzips his bag and pulls out a white blouse.

"What is this a white-clothes only weekend?" I ask, thinking about those Hampton soirees.

"Course not," Josh grins. "But why don't you put on that eggshell sweater I love. The one with the navy button-back."

I roll my eyes but open my own bag and start fishing out the sweater. Josh is the only man I know who can get away with calling a sweater eggshell instead of white.

I freshen up in the bathroom. I toss my hair into a claw clip and quickly rinse my skin to get the leather car smell off. As my curling wand heats up, I apply a topcoat of my nude lip color and roll on some oil. Ah, Amalfi. I may have stolen a roller.

"Lunch is in ten," Josh says, checking his Rolex. Seriously how am I just noticing how MF rich he is?

"Good, I'm starving. Did you remember–"

"To remind my mom that you're vegan?" Josh finishes for me. "Course."

Josh tucks his phone into his pocket and holds his hand out for me to take it.

Lunch is set on the peristyle patio. We take our spots at the long table beneath the pergola, and I'm reminded of brunch.

Troy and Beck arrive seconds later. I stand to hug them hello and Beck is already launching a whole debate about climate change with Charles by the time I sit back down.

"When did you two arrive?" Troy asks, unfolding his napkin.

"About two hours ago, maybe?" Josh asks, looking at me.

"Sounds right," I nod.

"Long drive in from the city?" Troy brings his glass to his lips.

"Not too bad. Josh cut our time in half," I joke.

I've always liked Troy. He and Josh look enough alike to be brothers, but not enough that I'd ever have buyer's remorse for choosing Josh. I smile as I think about other brothers of other boyfriends. As nice as he is, Troy isn't my favorite.

A waiter brings my plate and I'm delighted to see it's a vegan's dream. Must love Nance and how well she takes care of me.

I devour half the kale and poppyseed salad in three bites before Josh even starts his bird.

There's no quail hunting in the grasslands or croquet, but we do play an intense game of doubles volleyball. Troy and Beck don't last very long against me and Josh. Chip and Birdie, Josh's 20-year-old second cousins, are far better competition.

We have a huge dinner to celebrate the first night of everyone being together. There's music and drinks and even some dancing. Josh convinced me to go night swimming in the Olympic-worthy infinity pool. We finish the night in the hot tub, discussing favorite books and instruments and #1 travel destinations.

I'm pleasantly surprised by how easy it all is, how easy being with Josh Harding & Co. is.

By the time we crawl upstairs to our room, I decide I could 100% see this becoming a MDW tradition.

Bonfires be damned.

My alarm goes off via vibration against my leg. Not sure how my phone ended up down there. I grumble groggily as I roll out of bed.

I can't believe I let Josh talk me into sailing at the ass-crack of dawn. I look back at him still asleep in the bed with his unkempt hair and a resting smile face. OK, I believe it.

I stretch myself over to the balcony, trying to shake my arms awake. I draw back the sheer curtain and am awestruck by the views. Morning light floods the patio and grounds like it's some old-fashioned sepia landscape painted with liquid gold. Even the water is a dazzling yellow-blue under the sun.

"Someone kept her word." Josh steps up behind me, nuzzling his lips into my hair.

"Someone did." I lean backwards into him. He wakes up smelling like he stepped out of a cologne ad.

Josh is already slipping his hand up the space between my thighs (yes, thigh gap). His fingers disappear beneath the hem of his oversize button-down I slept in. I feel him rub over my silky panties, teasing me.

"Josh," I half say, half moan warningly. I can already feel myself getting ready for him.

"Emmy," he says my name back to me.

"I was promised sailing." I arch my back as his fingers grasp my neck in a playful chokehold.

"And you'll get it," Josh says into my neck. "But first–"

He kneels at my feet and pushes the shirt up. His nails dig into my ass and I have to steady myself on his shoulders. My legs are being useless again.

"Sailing can wait."