Breathe Out (Just Breathe, #2)(139)

Her eyes fixate on me. “Don’t be rude, Joe. You know daddy only needs you for a minute and it’s rude to keep him waiting.”

“We never talk business during holidays,” Joe says.

“Fine,” she says with a forced smile and a clenched jaw. “Be sure to call me tomorrow so we can arrange a time to get together.”

Joe doesn’t confirm whether he’ll contact her or not before her expression changes when she looks back to him.

“You still have my number, right?” she questions with an arrogantly innocent tone.

“I haven’t had it for years,” Joe reminds.

“It’s the same from high school. Daddy can give it to you if you’ve forgotten. I’ll catch you later for the countdown,” she claims before disappearing about two seconds later.

Joe and I dance in silence until the song is finished. I start to pull away when it ends, but Joe pulls me closer. “Don’t go,” he begs, tightening his grip. “Please.”


“I don’t think we should dance anymore tonight,” I comment.

“Why?”

“Seriously?!” I question with surprise. “Was I not the only one feeling the venom she was spitting out. Clearly she didn’t like the fact that we’ve been dancing.”

“I know,” he sighs apologetically. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

I study Joe’s face for a moment. “Oh,” I gasp.

“What?”

“She was the one,” I says, understanding what just happened.

“What do you mean?” Joe asks.

“Your first,” I regrettably answer.

Joe’s hands tighten. “Yes,” he confirms.

“Good to know,” I reply.

We remain silent for a brief time, both most likely uncomfortable by what happened and unsure what to say. The thought to mention that I found his keys pops into my head, but I don’t dare make him more agitated.

“It’s a lovely party,” I force out.

“I swear, Emma, nothing has happened with me and her since . . . .”

“I know,” I say softly.

Joe studies me for a moment and suddenly lowers his forehead to mine.

My head snaps back as I look around to see if anyone noticed.

“Our parents have been doing business together for a long time,” Joe mentions. “I do my best to stay away from her. I usually only run into her during social settings when I’m here.” He pauses for a few seconds. “It’s been much easier to avoid her when I’m on the West Coast.”

“You don’t need to explain, Joe,” I offer kindly.

“Yes I do,” he challenges.

“No, you don’t.” I suck up the courage for my next statement. “We’re good . . . always have and always will be. I believe you. I trust you,” I say, unable to express anymore.

Joe pulls me closer, sliding his cheek next to mine. “Thank you,” he replies.

We don’t say anything for the rest of the song. When it’s over, I excuse myself and make my way over to Jared and Nathan. Joe and I keep our distance from each other, but always seem to find each other off in the crowd when we look around while we talk to other people or find ourselves standing still.

Twenty minutes to midnight, I venture out to the lobby area wanting to get away from the celebration. There’s only one person whom I’d want to kiss and that’s not possible tonight, especially with a deranged, crazy woman in attendance — there were several times in the night when I caught her staring at me from a distance — a not so friendly type of expression adorning her face.

As I exit the restroom and head down a hallway, a female voice calls out to me from behind, “Hey.”

I turn to find Abigail and her two minions on either side of her staring at me with their eyes set on laser beam mode. Deciding to see where she takes this, I stand, waiting for her to continue. She moves closer, stopping about five feet away. All three of them look scrawny even though they’re about a few inches shorter than me. Their arms look like bone covered with skin, lacking any semblance of muscle to be able to hold them up.

“Let’s just be clear,” Abigail begins with a snide expression. “Joe is mine. Don’t talk to him. Don’t even look at him and we’ll get along great. Got it?”

“Sure,” I reply as flatly and non-sarcastically as I can. “Anything else?”

“Don’t mess with me,” she continues.

I nod and turn to walk away.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she calls after me. I can hear the sound of her feet stomping along the carpeting — she sounds like an ungraceful elephant.

I refrain from commenting.

“I’ll be watching you,” she barks.

My right hand shoots up into the air, waving to confirm I’ve received her unthreatening message. “Happy New Year!” I cheer just before turning down the closest hallway. My body presses against the wall, waiting to check if she’s following me. The echo of a few voices bounce off the walls, but they seem to fade into the distance.

I take stairs that are at the back of the building and make my way up to the top floor. Wanting reprieve from being found, I try each door, hoping one will open. By the fifth door, I start to give up on my quest.