Chapter 46
Emma
M iles and I spent the night at the superhero compound, as he now calls it. We christened the guest bedroom and made breakfast with Justice and Terrence, the latter of whom stepped away shortly after to train his client. It was the perfect start to the perfect weekend, doing nothing and everything. We stayed in with movies, went out for dinner, and watched the sunset over the Pacific. On Sunday night, Miles and I took them to the Santa Monica Pier for our first double date, which ended with him and Terrence chasing me and Justice after we lit them up with our bumper cars.
Having my best friend here unlocked another part of me. I miss Jay and wish we lived closer. We see each other at least twice a year, but I want more memories. I’ve spent so much time creating distance in my life. I’ve missed out on a lot in an effort to dodge the hurt. But I get her for the rest of the month—Miles too with Terrence, who thanked me for finally keeping him in one place long enough.
True to his word, Miles hasn’t left for more than a week. He hopped back to Jersey a few days ago to check in on his business interests on the East Coast but calls and texts every day. He thinks he’s slick coming back with extra clothes to pop into my closet, but I roll my eyes and look the other way. Miles has been filling up space in my life, and I love it.
I love him.
I’ve been on my phone all morning, responding to his texts about him missing me.
Miles
Might go to the ER.
Why? Are you hurt?
Miles
Dick won’t go down after that performance.
My snort morphs into a cackle. Idiot.
Last night’s video call included me taking a dildo while a jeweled anal trainer was inside me. Miles lasted thirty seconds before coming in his pants. He loves Bernadette, but there’s a new star in town.
Miles
How is she?
My eyes roll.
Deloris is fine.
Miles
Excuse you. That’s Deloris Van Cartier.
It’s too early to be cracking up over nonsense. Only Miles would name my ass after Whoopi’s Sister Act character. It’s so random, and it borders on blasphemy, but that’s him.
“I’m not going to dignify that with a response,” I say to the potted plant next to me on the couch. It’s a “love fern,” one Miles swears will grow if it hears good vibrations. I waited for him to play the Marky Mark song when he brought it home, but he scoffed and walked off.
Smiles have taken up residence with Miles. Life is funnier, lighter.
I settle back on the couch with my coffee and the ocean’s soundtrack. Sunlight stretches across the living room, electrifying the gold accents in the room. Justice is coming over soon to work remotely while Terrence trains his client. I’ve been scaling back in the office where I can, so she and I can spend time together while she’s in California.
My phone rings on the kitchen counter. Probably Jay saying she’s on her way.
I stall when I see the incoming call from my mother. My hand slips over my hair in a high ponytail as I set down my mug to answer. “Hello?” The letters run into each other in a scramble to understand why she’s calling.
“Could you please come out?”
“You’re outside? My house?”
“Emma, I did not fly all this way to answer questions from a public sidewalk.” My mother restrains herself from scolding me but can’t mask her frustration. She sighs. “Please, sweetheart.”
Someone died. It’s the only explanation why she’s here.
Juliette Douglass does not waste outfits on unnecessary travel, and she never says please or calls me sweetheart. Ever. Death or an apocalypse are more likely, and I’m not sure she’d visit me before the world ended.
I slip on Miles’s slides by the front door and clomp out to the main gate. I’d have an easier time walking in shoeboxes. The man has boats for feet.
My mother adjusts her vintage Chanel purse, which is hanging over a black sheath dress that screams funeral.
“Who died?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She waves me off but stops herself from walking into my house. Her fingers flex before they reach for me and brush the tops of my shoulders. I frown as her face moves toward me before she reroutes for a pat on my back and heads inside.
At least she tried to hug me.
My mother stands in front of the open pocket doors, focused on the glittering light scattered across ocean waves coming to life. Wisps of her auburn hair stretch from her controlled bun to touch the breeze. Her posture eases as she softens the delicate muscles in her back to release the perfection she upholds. She’s out of place here in my home, which she’s criticized on more than one occasion for being too casual. Her stilettos have only crossed my threshold twice in a decade, but she never misses an opportunity to remind me of my shortcomings.
As if she catches herself, the rod in her back reanimates. She turns her eyes to me. “My approach with you has not been helpful. I’d like to make it up.”
“Okay.” If she’s expecting another response, I’ve got nothing.
A smile sets in place, one that doesn’t reach her eyes. Smiling isn’t normal behavior for my mother. This one looks forced, like she’s straining the muscles in her cheekbones and thin lips to accommodate the effort. Her eyes flicker to the T-shirt I’m wearing—one of Miles’s. It touches above my thighs and clashes with the version of a daughter I no longer strive to reach. I still love my outfits and will never trade heels for flats, but I’m discovering that I have layers, and wearing my man’s shirt while he’s away is one of them.
“Let’s have dinner tonight,” she says in a voice too soft to be her own. “We’ll make up for the years lost.”
“I’d like that.” The breath I take solidifies in my throat as years of emotion swim to the surface. I’ve wanted a better relationship with my mother—practically prayed for it. I don’t know what sparked her change in heart, but coming all this way to see me during my father’s campaign means more than she’ll ever know.
A chill shifts through me at my mother’s half smile. “Very well. Hera at seven. I’ll send a car.”
Her smile remains etched in her ivory features as she lets herself out and leaves me wondering what I signed up for.
The black town car pulls up to an industrial building that looks like an all-glass skeleton. A man in a black suit and matching hat opens my door and extends his hand. “Good evening, Ms. Douglass.”
He leads me through a lobby of fountains and marble to a glass elevator, where he presses the button for the eighteenth floor. The car slides up to a quiet melody of classical music and opens its doors to an empty restaurant.
“Your party awaits,” he says at my struggle to hide my confusion. “Enjoy” is all I get before he’s back in the elevator.
My black heels take cautious steps over dark marble. Every table and chair is empty. So is the bar. I turn toward the ceiling-high windows that reveal the LA skyline and gasp. There, in front of four tables pushed together, is my mother…and Carter.
Her lips curl into the same smile she had in my house. She makes her way to me, her eyes never leaving mine. Her target. “So happy you could make it.” She kisses me on my cheeks.
“What is all of this?” I lift my eyes to the candles scattered amid rose petals on the table and freeze at Carter’s lean form filling out a tux. His mouth is set firm, his bronzed skin magnifying blue-green eyes that pierce the distance between us. He scans my patchwork lace bandage dress with an approving grin.
“I told you we’d make up for the years lost.” Something flickers in my mother’s eyes when she repeats the words she said hours ago in my home. Words I thought conveyed a willingness to repair our damaged relationship. Not an ambush. She motions to Carter, who approaches on command. “I’ve failed you, Emma. I should’ve intervened earlier.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’ve had more than enough time to waste on men who aren’t a good fit for you or this family. Carter is worthy of us. He’ll take care of you, and he won’t run off like that thug. How could you think so little of yourself to not want more—not be more?”
A wave of nausea hits me as Carter’s hand closes over mine. The touch is far from loving, and it tightens under his grip. “I told you I’d show you, Emma,” he says through clenched teeth. “I want to marry you.”
“You want permanent admission into this family,” I spit back and snatch my hand away.
Clarity chooses that moment to touch the shoulder of my younger self, the one who desperately waited all these years for her family to love her without conditions. I’ve shielded her so much, I never set her free.
Stop holding onto things that no longer serve you. If that includes your family, you have people who care about you.
Miles’s words coax me to loosen my grip on a hope that’s hurt too much to carry. It’s time to let go.
My “No” echoes through the empty restaurant. “And I really fucking hate red roses.”
“Emma!” My mother’s curt voice steadies for a lash. “This is your last chance to be happy. To have a family.”
“I have one, Mother! I have people in my life who love me no matter what. In case it wasn’t clear to you, I’ve always been enough, with or without a man. I’m the happiest I’ve been in years because I’m finally letting go of things that never meant me any good. If you want Carter so bad, you marry him.”
“Isn’t it customary to ask permission from the father before proposing? John, did he hit you up first?” The warmth of Miles’s chuckle sends a shiver down my spine.
He’s here.
I leave my mother and her jaw on the floor to rush to him. Miles gathers me into his arms, buries his face in my neck, and exhales. “Kitten,” he whispers.
“I missed you.” I pull him tighter. He kisses his way into my mouth, demanding a moan I freely give. Miles breaks us apart and plants a kiss on my forehead before stepping back so I can greet my father. I’m shocked to see him here.
“Hi, sweetheart,” he says, pulling me to his middle. My father gives good hugs. If only he made time for them. “What is the meaning of this?” He looks over my shoulder at my mother and Carter, who’s eyeing the exits.
“I’m helping Emma secure her future,” my mother says matter-of-factly.
My father frowns. “You said you came out here to spend time with her. This isn’t right, Juliette.”
“What isn’t right is you allowing her to waste every opportunity we’ve given her. You were too soft, and now she’s fallen for”—her hand waves at Miles in a T-shirt and jeans in disgust—“that. He’s a threat with a juvenile record! Carter looked into it. Vandalism. Theft. Assault. This is who you want your daughter to date? He’s below us!”
“He has shown our daughter nothing but love and respect since we met him,” my father roars, silencing my mother and catching me off guard. He never raises his voice. “His past does not define him, nor is it a mark of who he is today.” His gaze drifts to me, with years of sadness forming tears in the corners of his brown eyes. “I owe you a lifetime of apologies, sweetheart. I’ve let my career and other influences”—his eyes shift to my mother and harden—“get the best of my judgment for too long. I own that, and I’m sorry I hurt you.”
A sob racks my insides and releases years’ worth of heartache. I look at Miles with blurred vision whose smile tells me everything will be okay. He brought my dad here from the East Coast after I texted him this morning and told him what my mother said when she came over. No matter what, he’ll always come back to me.
“You have a good man, Emma,” my father says so only I can hear. “One who protects you and those you love more than you know.”
“I rarely hate being right, but my suspicions were correct,” Miles says to the other end of the room. “I knew you were a calculated little shit, but”—he whistles—“this is some Grade A madness.”
“You will not speak to me that way!” My mother meets his accusing eyes without flinching, like she didn’t just insult him seconds ago.
Miles chuckles. “Respectfully, ain’t no one talking to you, Juliette. You think you have power, siphoning it from other people. But you’ve never been a factor. I’m talking to Crispin.”
Every head turns to Carter, who lets the faintest smile slip. My eyes swing to Miles, whose gaze is still locked on Carter. If he so much as thinks about running, it’s his ass.
“What’s going on?” I look at my father, who nods to Miles.
“Big donors spending money to influence political outcomes is nothing new,” Miles says to Carter. “The Citizen United v. Federal Election Commission ruling at the Supreme Court made it easier to funnel millions—billions, even—to buy what we call democracy with money from undisclosed sources. A network of wealthy elite could push forth judicial nominees with the same money they use to buy legal groups that bring cases to courts with their people in place to rule in their favor.“ He scratches his goatee and chuckles. “It’s hard to track the source of dark money—damn near impossible. But there’s always a thread.”
Carter shifts on his feet and lifts his chin.
“One of my clients is fighting the concerted effort against voter suppression. Lawmakers and judges across the country are enshrining disenfranchisement laws, all backed by dark money from a network hell-bent on our demise.”
Miles steps closer, shaving the distance between him and Carter to mere inches. “While you were watching me, I was watching you attend special fundraisers and private events with these same judges and lawmakers you thought were flying under the radar. That took me to a deeper dive. You couldn’t pass the LSAT, but your buddy from your Ivy League did, and he’s conveniently running for attorney general and is backed by the same network. Now he’s courting Blair.”
My mother’s gasp fills the room. Her nervous gaze turns to Carter like she’s seeing him for the first time. “What are you saying, Miles?”
“Crispin is a pawn for a network of wealthy elite who are buying this country through the courts, Congress, and the White House. As chief of staff, he oversees John’s policy development and has one of the greatest influences in the office. I’d bet the network assigned him early on to see how far he could push their agenda. Why else do you think an exploration committee into a presidential bid is popping up now? John’s desire to be likable and appease donors makes him a great puppet.”
“You know nothing,” Carter glowers.
“Em, do you know why Carter started pressing up on you in your twenties? Around the time you turned twenty-six?” Miles asks over his shoulder. “That was when the Supreme Court ruled on Citizens United , making it easier for wealthy special-interest groups to shape campaigns through unlimited spending. Carter likely took the opportunity to safeguard his influence on your father by being a love interest for you, if not his right hand on Capitol Hill.”
Shock and rage hold my breath hostage. I can’t believe any of this, but I trust Miles without a shadow of a doubt.
“You have no proof, and who do you think people would believe anyway, hmm?” Carter’s head tilts in a sinister smile. “A man with a pedigree, or a thug with a record?”
My feet take off on their own to slap the smirk off Carter’s evil face. I wind up for a punch, but Miles pulls me back. “Easy, kitten,” he whispers against the shell of my ear. My body softens at his breath on my skin. “I love you, and I won’t let you go to jail for me.”
“You won’t be far if we kill him together,” I whisper back.
“I’m marrying your ass.” Miles presses a kiss to my cheek and moves me behind him. We’ll need to discuss that later. Offing Carter is one thing, but marriage is a jump I’m not ready to take just yet. “Crispin, your car is waiting for you. Say goodbye to John’s ass, because you won’t be kissing it for a while. My guess is fifteen years to life.”
All the color drains from Carter’s face. “John, what is he talking about?” His eyes flit between my father and Miles under hiked brows.
My father shakes his head and sighs. “I loved you like a son,” he says, his voice low and tormented. “How could you do this and steal from me, no less?”
“What is he talking about?” I ask Miles, whose arm is now around me.
“Money laundering through bullshit contracts. Bribery. Crispin has a shell company to conceal his assets. He got too greedy, which made it easier for me to trace.” Miles shrugs. “Not bad for a thug with a record.”
“Hey.” I grip his chin and turn him to look at me. “None of that.”
Miles is playful and prideful at times, but I see the vulnerability he’s hiding behind the mask I want removed permanently. “You’re brilliant, amazing, and one of the best men I know. I love every part of you, in this lifetime and the next.”
His lips crash to mine, trembling with every kiss he takes. “I fucking love you.” He clasps my body to his.
“I fucking love you back.”
Authorities flood out of the elevator to apprehend Carter, who kicks and screams. He mumbles about it not being the last we hear from him before he’s carted off in handcuffs.
“We can fix this. I—I didn’t know, John. I swear! We’re still a family. We’ll make it work,” my mother pleads in a rush.
“Enough!” My father expels a deep breath. “Enough,” he repeats softly. The light in his eyes is dim when he faces me. “I have a few meetings with trusted colleagues about this network and the extent of its power. Miles, you owe us nothing and gave us everything. I’ll never be able to repay you, but if the time comes for you to marry my daughter, you have my yes right now.”
My father cuts my mother off when she tries to speak. “Our daughter is happy and in love, Juliette. I will not hear another vile word about Miles or his past. Let them be. Some of us should marry for love.” His confession is so quiet, I have to strain to hear it. My parents met in college, but they never discuss their love story. They just are, which explains why so much was hiding in plain sight, even for me.
“If you find it in your heart, I’d love to spend time with you before I go back to Washington.” My father takes my hands and looks to Miles. “I’ll make this right, but I know it will take time.”
“She’s deserves better, John,” Miles says with no hint of humor in his tone.
“I know.” My father nods. “I know.” His gaze shifts back to me. “I should go. The authorities will likely have questions about all of this.” He huffs out a laugh. “ I have questions about all of this. I love you, Emma. Always have, and always will.”
We hug before my father leaves. My mother is hot on his trail, begging for him to forgive her. She said nothing to me—or Miles—and I’m okay with it.
I’m more than okay. I’m at peace.
Miles looks down at me. “You alright, baby?”
“You just unmasked an episode of Scandal .” I laugh and wipe away a stray tear. “But yes, I am.”
His lips press to my forehead as he pulls me into his warmth and holds me. “I’m not sorry what I found, but I am sorry this shit touches people you love. I’ll always protect you, kitten.”
“I know. Do you have to go back to Jersey now?”
“Nah.” Miles shakes his head and smiles. “I’m finally home.”
“I love you.”
“I love you.” He kisses me with a grin. “And Bernadette. And Deloris.”
My head tips back with laughter. Only him . “Let’s go.”
We leave the restaurant hand in hand with Miles singing “I Will Follow Him” from Sister Act .