Stuck with Mr. Grump

19. Emilia

CHAPTER 19

Emilia

T he average resting heart rate for a healthy adult is typically between sixty and one-hundred beats per minute. While I’m unsure how many times my heart beats per minute, whenever I’m around Sterling, I’m pretty sure that number increases exponentially. Doubles, triples, it doesn’t matter.

All I know is that it hurts. My heart always hurts when I’m around him. Pain can come in so many different forms, and I thought I’d experienced all the pain the world has to offer. And then I met Sterling and I realized there’s always more to be unleashed.

“You can’t say stuff like that,” I say, my voice coming out a little breathy.

He tilts his head to the side. “Says who? Freedom of speech, Emilia. I can say whatever the hell I like. You can’t control that. What you can control is how you react to whatever it is I say. The feelings it incites in you.”

He says those last words in a sexy drawl that has me clenching my thighs. I really hate this man. And what the hell does he mean, I can control the feelings he incites? If I could do that, I wouldn’t be in this position.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie.

Sterling smirks before taking a step toward me. My legs move nearly of their own accord, carrying me backward away from him, only to find myself halted by the wall. Sterling doesn’t pause in his approach, moving until he’s effectively caging me in.

And then he places his hands on the wall on either side of me and I realize there’s really no escape. My heart starts to pound so loud I’m sure he can hear it.

Be still, you dumb, malfunctioning organ.

The last thing I want to do right now is look into his eyes. But he’s right there. His scent surrounds me, musky with a hint of lemons. I slowly tilt my head up, pretending to be unaffected. When that couldn’t be further from the truth.

His green eyes are already fixed on me.

“We’re not at work right now, angel. You have no idea how hard I’ve been trying to hold myself back these past few weeks. It’s exhausting,” he grits out.

“Sterling,” I whisper, at a loss of what to say.

His eyes flick down to my lips, staring at them intently.

“If I kissed you right now, what would you do? Would you let me? Kiss me back? Or would you push me away?”

My lips thin. I don’t have an answer to that. I don’t think I would have the willpower to push him away if he kissed me. I would never be strong enough to do that.

“Don’t kiss me,” I plead.

Anguish slashes across his expression. He opens his mouth. “Emilia?—”

I don’t get to hear the rest of the sentence, though.

“What the hell is going on here?” someone questions, fury mixed in his tone.

Sterling’s hands drop and I scramble from against the wall, looking toward my brother who’s standing a few feet away. Carson’s glaring at us both, hands clenched into fists.

“Carson,” I start, fumbling for what to say. “It’s not what you think.”

Beside me, I hear Sterling huff out a breath. When I turn to look at him, he seems amused?

“It’s not what you think,” he mouths with a smile.

That just pisses Carson off more, though. He crosses over to us, grabbing Sterling’s collar.

“What the hell is so funny, asshole? I warned you. Stay away from Emilia!”

I’ve never seen him this mad before. Sterling’s not even fazed. He grabs my brother’s hand at his collar, shoving him backward. Carson’s about to charge again but I step between them, looking up at my brother.

“Enough,” I state. “You’re being dramatic, Carson. Nothing’s going on.”

“Oh yeah?” he asks, blue eyes narrowing. “Because I just saw the two of you in a pretty compromising position. Explain that, little sister.”

I cross my arms over my chest, repeating, “Nothing’s going on.”

“You really expect me to believe that?”

“Yes,” I answer simply. “And frankly, even if something was going on, it’s none of your business, Carson.”

“You’re my little sister.”

“That doesn’t make you my keeper. I can make my own decisions.”

“So you keep saying. You’ve been making your own decisions since the day I fucking met you, Emilia. Is this how it was when you lived with her? She just left you alone? You made your own decisions then because you didn’t have anybody else. But now you do.”

I tense. Oh no, he fucking didn’t.

“You don’t get to assume what my life was like with her, Carson, and you don’t get to mention her either.”

“Why the hell not?” he growls. “She gave birth to me. As much as I hate it, she was my mother as well.”

I step toward him, vibrating with tension.

“No, she fucking wasn’t. You don’t know her, Carson. You don’t get to talk about her, think about her, or feel anything toward her. I already know you don’t, so there’s no need to pretend. She’s not your mother, she’s mine, and I don’t want you talking about her,” I spit angrily.

There’s a particular family trait we Camerons have. We’re stubborn to a fault, and when we’re mad, everything thing else blurs. We end up saying things we don’t mean in our rage. Things we wish we could take back. And despite not living together for most of our lives, Carson and I still perfectly capable of fighting like most siblings do.

“If your mother’s so fucking great then where the hell is she? Why did you come looking for us, then? How about you stop pretending like she was this great person who raised you with love and care. It’s bullshit. Even if you don’t say it, you think we can’t imagine why you came here. She was a drug addict, Emilia. She was probably horrible to you.”

“Shut up,” I say under my breath.

But he doesn’t stop. “If she’s so amazing, why hasn’t she come looking for you?”

Because she’s dead , I scream. Inwardly.

It doesn’t matter how angry he’s made me, he doesn’t deserve to hear about his mother’s death that way. I want so badly to tell him. But I’ve barely even come to terms with the fact that she’s gone. I’ll tell him. I’ll tell him about her eventually. Once I’ve made my peace with it.

I feel a hand on my waist, firm and steady. It’s amazing the effect Sterling has on me. One touch has me feeling able to breathe easier. He takes a step forward until he’s standing beside me.

“Take a walk, Cameron,” he says to my brother.

Carson looks like he wants to argue. But after reading the expression on my face, he deflates. He huffs out a breath before doing as Sterling said, turning around to leave. I’m sure when he’s calmer, he’ll start to feel guilty. He’ll probably be calling to apologize in a couple of hours. I know he hates fighting. Especially with his little sisters.

“Well, that escalated,” I mutter once Carson’s gone.

Sterling stands in front of me. He raises his hand to my forehead, playing with a couple strands of my hair.

“Camerons,” he says fondly, shaking his head. “You guys practically exude glitter and happiness, until someone pisses you off. And then it’s a warzone.”

I smile at that, looking up at him, glad he’s able to understand so easily.

“He’s just angry because you haven’t opened up to him,” Sterling says.

My shoulders fall and I shrug. “I don’t know how to open up to anyone.”

“You do it little by little, angel,” he says. “Take it a bit at a time.”

My heart clenches when he presses a soft kiss against the middle of my forehead. I can’t help but wonder how much longer I can resist him.

“We should probably head back out to the party. Let’s just hope there’s no more drama,” I tell Sterling.

“Wouldn’t place a bet on that,” he murmurs.

But he gestures for me to take his arm all the same. I slip my hand inside the crook of his elbow as he leads me outside to the garden. It just feels right. Everything feels so right when I’m with him.

That’s the problem, though. It’s only when something feels right that a person truly understands how quickly things can go very wrong.

Sterling and I have barely stepped into the decorated garden when everyone’s attention is drawn to the small iron gate that serves as an entrance. I arch an eyebrow as a woman walks inside. Long legs, poised posture. She has light brown hair adorned with a small glittering clip, and there’s something regal about her. Perhaps it’s the way she carries herself? Or the way she’s dressed, in a short white dress that fits perfectly on her slim figure. She’s wearing stilettos that I would probably break my leg in if I tried to walk in them. She looks beautiful. Even from afar.

Beside me, Sterling seems to have fallen still. When I look at him, he has on an expression of complete shock.

“Who’s that?” I ask quietly, wondering why her appearance seems to have shaken him up so much.

I wasn’t expecting an answer since he’s too busy staring at the woman. His dad has moved into action, though. We’re too far away, but he seems to be yelling something at her. The woman doesn’t even move an inch. She stays quiet as Steven speaks, her expression barely changing.

“That’s Marissa,” Sterling replies after a minute, releasing a ragged breath. “Sean’s mother. My ex-wife.”

Oh.

My stomach twists and I feel an ache spread in my chest. I continue to stand there beside him, no clue what to do. And no idea what her appearance may bring.

My gut tells me it won’t be anything good, though. And a part of me hates the way Sterling stares at her. They have history. And history has a way of repeating itself.

Anika drops her bag on the table in our living room before falling back onto the couch with a groan.

“That party was pretty dull,” she mutters.

We’re just getting back home from the Harrington estate. Things were tense when we left. None of the Harringtons seemed to be in a hosting mood with the appearance of Marissa. Everything happened so fast. Karl arrived and took her into the house, and Sterling swiftly followed.

Steven and Elana stayed for long enough to thank us for coming and apologize for the abrupt end before they also made their way inside. Things fizzled out in the garden soon after that. Dad and Priya just dropped us off before heading to their house. The only thing anyone could talk about was the appearance of Marissa.

I’m not sure why it’s such a big deal.

“Do you know about her?” I ask, suddenly feeling exhausted. I sit on the armchair, clutching my stomach that feels a little queasy.

“Not really. All I know is she used to be a model or influencer before she married Sterling. She was pretty popular.”

Oh, great. I hate comparing myself to another woman, but I can’t deny the uneasy feeling in my chest at the moment.

“She’s pretty,” I murmur absentmindedly.

Anika sits up at that, the pendant around her neck lifting with the movement before falling back against her chest.

“Don’t do that. Sterling’s obsessed with you, sissy. Plus, she’s his ex-wife for a reason. He wouldn’t go back to her. She probably just came to wish her kid a happy birthday.”

And I’m so glad she did because I know just how much Sean has been missing her. I’m glad he got to see his mother.

“Sterling’s not obsessed with me,” I say firmly. “But thanks for trying to comfort me all the same.”

She frowns, brown eyes studious as her gaze rests on my face.

“Are you sure nothing’s going on between you and Sterling? I noticed Carson left the party quickly. He went looking for you, and when he returned he seemed pissed. Not a lot of things make Carson angry.”

“Carson need to learn to mind his business,” I say rigidly.

I’m still a little angry at my brother. But I can admit I contributed to how things escalated earlier as well. I pushed him, and I like to act all high and mighty when it comes to our mother. She’s always going to be a sore spot for all of us and there’s nothing I can do about that.

“So he saw you two?” Anika questions curiously.

“He didn’t see anything.”

I sigh, rubbing my forehead, and lean backward to stare up at the ceiling, wondering why I keep feeling the urge to puke.

“You okay, Em?” she asks, rising to crouch down beside me. “You look a little sick.”

I shake my head. “I’m not sure. I think I caught a bug or something. I’ve been tired a lot.”

“Maybe you should go see Dr. Hale.”

“Maybe,” I murmur. “But I’m sure it’s just something small. I could just get drugs prescribed.”

“I’ll go make us a snack. I noticed you didn’t have much to eat at the party.”

I offer her a grateful smile and she stands, heading into the kitchen while I think about what could be wrong with me. I think about a lot of things, actually. Sterling’s ex-wife. Our conversation before she appeared. How close he was to kissing me in the hallway.

I don’t know if I’ll have the strength to keep fighting this thing between us. And that’s terrifying. I suddenly sit up, clutching my stomach as I gag on nothing.

“What the fuck?” I murmur.

For some reason, my mind goes back to the night Sterling and I spent at that hotel weeks ago. My heart starts to pound as I try to remember the last time I saw my period. But that’s impossible . Still, if one plus one equals two, then a missed period and the thought of that night can only mean one thing.

“No,” I whisper.

Don’t be dramatic, Emilia. There’s no way in hell I’m pregnant. That’s impossible. It can’t fucking happen.