Chapter Eight
Moskins
I must be going deaf, because there’s no way I’m hearing her right. “Pardon—the fuck—me?” I ask my wife, staring skeptically at her.
Her smile is sheepish. “I finally told my parents I’m in town, so they want to have dinner. The four of us.”
The four of us. Together. This sounds like what my nightmares are made of.
I stop washing the dishes to give her my full attention. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? I’m still on your dad’s shit list. Maybe you should go without me. Or tell them you have a headache.”
It isn’t like the last thing would be a lie. When she got home yesterday, she was so pale I knew she had one. She’d barely said two sentences before curling up in my bed with the lights off and windows blacked out. It’d been hours before she came out back to her usual self.
“I’m fine now,” she insists, brushing off the valid concern.
Emaly has been full of good ideas lately.
Like giving both of our numbers to the blonde who I’ve been having repetitive sex dreams about.
Last night, I woke up hard as steel after a vivid scene involving me bending Winter over with a toy against her pussy and velvet rope securing her wrists behind her back.
She’d been begging me to fuck her, and I’d woken up right before getting to the grand finale.
I’d had to wrap my hand around my cock and take care of the problem myself, coming harder than I have in a while. I imagined her naked in my bedroom and soaking my sheets. Her sweet face had been contorted with pleasure, and her body was writhing for more.
I’m not mad that Emaly gave her my number.
In fact, I’m intrigued to see if she’ll use it.
So far, it’s been two days with no contact other than an email she copied her boss on regarding our plans for Friday to attend an event hosted by the local animal shelter.
Apparently, images of me holding puppies are supposed to simultaneously clean up my image and get some of the animals adopted.
I don’t get it, but I’m not about to pass up spending a handful of hours petting dogs.
People who don’t like puppies are psychopaths. That is one thing I am not.
What I am not happy about is our dinner plans tonight. “Em, I don’t think I should go. I’ve been keeping a low profile. We both know that it won’t go well if I attend.”
She knows how quickly this can go awry, but I can tell she wants me there anyway.
For support. For comfort. I may not be her main person, but I am one of her people.
Just like she’s been mine since I was young, back when the only thing I had to look forward to was skating on that frozen pond with her.
I didn’t have a lot in my childhood, but I did have Emaly.
And for her, I’d do anything.
Which is why I close my eyes, pinch the bridge of my nose, and sigh. “Fine. Christ. This is going to be bad, but fine.”
Emaly’s eyes light up at the idea of me coming, so I know I’m making the right decision, even if it’s going to take a lot of liquor to ease my nerves the entire night.
It’ll go how it always does when I sit down with Mikhail and Valeria.
They’ll talk up Emaly’s brother, Sasha, offer her backhanded compliments about her career as if she isn’t doing the world’s hardest fucking job as a pediatric oncologist, and then turn their attention to me.
That’s when things usually go downhill fast, thanks to my lack of patience for their bullshit.
I’d like to think I’m not a totally unreasonable guy.
Their feelings toward me are warranted, given my past. To the world, and to my in-laws, I’m a lying cheater who doesn’t deserve his wife.
I’m sure my father-in-law has done his homework on me well beyond my years being married to his daughter.
He knows how deep the wounds go—what my family did.
I’m sure he thinks I’ll wind up like them and wants Emaly far away from that.
I’m fine with that, because I know I’ll never be like them.
I’ve worked hard to ensure I go down a path that will lead me into a life I never could have forged myself if it weren’t for Emaly’s friendship and encouragement.
Mikhail can’t hurt me with his commentary because I already know every flaw attached to my existence. I draw the line at them picking her apart, though.
Emaly gives me a hug. “I appreciate you, Little Bear. It’s one dinner. They know I’m going back to California in a few days, so we’ll only have to suffer through a few hours of their company.”
If she’s going back to the West Coast, she must have made up with Ronnie and accepted it’s time to go back to work. “Please tell me dinner isn’t at their house.”
She grins up at me. “We’re meeting him at his favorite restaurant, so it’ll be very public. You know how he feels about keeping a squeaky-clean reputation. He wouldn’t dare cause a scene where he likes to dine every week.”
At least I’ll have that going for me. “Unless the waitstaff stops refilling his glass,” I mumble, making her pinch my side. I hiss and jerk back, and she giggles. “What was that for? You know it’s true.”
She jabs her pointer finger at me with narrow eyes full of phony anger. “Yeah, but I’m the only one who’s allowed to say it.”
I chuckle. “Whatever you say, darling.”
Emaly bats her lashes at me. “I know, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart. Coming from her, it sounds comical. It doesn’t garner any reaction like it does when I call Winter that. Her distaste for the name only makes me want to call her it more.
Shaking my head, I lean against the edge of the sink and cross my arms over my chest. “I’m sure Ronnie and the hospital will be happy to have you home.”
Her face morphs from amusement to love and something dimmer that isn’t quite readable.
“I miss them,” she tells me softly, eyes not meeting mine.
“The kiddos at the hospital have been asking for me. After the last case…” She quiets, her throat bobbing with a thick swallow.
She’d told me about the patient she lost over dinner the other night, explaining why she had to step back for a little while.
I could tell there was more to the story, but I didn’t push it.
“It’s been hard to be there and even harder to stay away. ”
I lift her chin with my finger. “You can’t save them all, Em. No matter how hard you try.”
Her eyes turn glassy, but she blinks rapidly to fend off tears. “I know. It doesn’t make it any easier, though.”
There’s no denying that.
She stands taller and brushes her hands under her eyes before forcing a smile. “Anyway, when is the he-devil getting here? I need to make sure I’m hiding in my room when he arrives.”
I give her a pointed look. “Why do you and Ashton hate each other so much?”
Emaly’s nose scrunches. “Because he’s annoying. And he started it! He clearly doesn’t like me.”
My brows arch at her reasoning. “So that makes you instantly not like him?” She can get along with anyone if she needs to, she just chooses not to with Ash.
“You know I’ve done everything I can to make him like me,” she argues, frowning at my audacity. “The only thing that would work is divorcing you.”
I can’t help but snort, knowing she’s probably right. “It’s a good thing he doesn’t get a say then, huh?”
She harrumphs. “I swear that man would do anything if it means I’m out of your life. To him, I’m a liability who—”
“Don’t,” I cut her off. “Don’t call yourself that. If anybody is a liability, it’s me. That’s not what this is.”
I know what she’ll say. He doesn’t know that, though. And he doesn’t. Nobody knows the truth regarding our situation. Just because he’s on my payroll doesn’t mean he’s privy to it either. Although he likes to disagree.
Which is why he’s always up my ass about why Emaly and I are married when we live separately.
He used to ask a lot more questions in the beginning before he realized I wasn’t going to give him any answers.
That’s part of the reason he’s acted sour toward her.
I’ve made sure to correct that behavior whenever they’re around one another because I’ll be damned if anyone disrespects her in my presence.
It’s bad enough Em’s own parents do it, I’m not going to let someone I pay partake.
“Ashton doesn’t know that, though,” Emaly responds, making me internally snicker at the commentary I knew was coming. “And since you refuse to inform him why we’re married—”
“He doesn’t need to know.”
She deadpans, “Little Bear, he is supposed to help you grow your career. And because of me, you’ve had backlash that’s made it harder to get brand deals. I understand why he doesn’t like me. But maybe if he understood the situation better, it would help you.”
I knew she was going to bring this up. “Em, it doesn’t matter.”
Her frown deepens, wrinkling the corners of her mouth. “It does to me. I hate seeing people tear you apart.”
“Then stop reading those stupid tabloids,” I tell her for the umpteenth time.
“They’re not going to get any better. People like them are paid to report the worst about others.
Nobody wants to read about how ridiculously in love a couple is.
They’re going to click on the article that highlights every reason people are toxic. ”
Her shoulders drop. “That’s so sad.”
“It’s the truth.” It’s also a conversation I’m sick of having, but I’ll keep having it until she gets it.
“You and I are both fine. We’re happy. My money isn’t in jeopardy because I’m lacking new sponsorships.
I’m smart with my investments, Em. I’ve got my salary.
Most of my signing bonus is still in savings.
You are not to blame for my deals drying up.
You didn’t make me shove my dick into other women. ”
She pins me with a sad expression. “I fell in love with somebody, Thomas Xavier. I’m to blame for a lot of things.”