Chapter Nine #2
So she’s beautiful, kind, and smart. What the hell is wrong with Moskins for cheating on someone who’s the entire package? “I don’t know anything about that, but I’m sure it’s difficult seeing sick children.”
Emaly nods, worrying her bottom lip. “It is. But it can be very rewarding when you become one of the reasons that they get better. Unfortunately, it’s not always the case.
That’s when…” Her voice cracks, and she clears it.
“I needed a bit of a break. It was nice coming back here for a little while, but I know I can’t hide forever. ”
So she came here because of her job, not for her husband. There’s far more about their relationship that I don’t know and probably never will. Even being here is crossing lines that will more than likely get me reprimanded at work.
But, unlike Emaly, I’m not smart.
“Can I ask why you texted me?” she prods, slowing for a red light. “Not that I’m unhappy you did. I’d just assumed you threw out the numbers the second I gave them to you.”
She thought I would do that and still gave them to me? “I debated it,” I admit honestly, sitting on my hands so I can’t fidget with them. “But I couldn’t bring myself to. I don’t know why. Not until I got home early from work and realized…”
This is going to sound pathetic, isn’t it?
Emaly gives me her full attention as we wait behind a line of traffic.
I sigh, realizing I have nothing to lose.
If she had the nerve to give me a phone number, the least I can do is have the guts to answer her question.
“I don’t have much in my life. I’m so used to working that I’ve never realized how little I have outside of it.
I’ve got my sister. Maybe a few surface-level friends I can grab food with and talk about trivial things once in a while. But I’m…”
It’s hard admitting the truth.
That I’m lonely.
That I’m sad.
That my life choices are why I have to isolate myself from so many people. More than that—that other people’s life choices have closed me off from the world.
Would I have been more outgoing if my parents hadn’t been killed?
If Kourtney wasn’t forced to take care of me, and I could be more carefree and adventurous?
I didn’t participate in sports because that cost money, and so did school-appointed trips to new places.
I tried not to burden my sister with anything I knew she couldn’t handle, and I never complained. Not once.
But my upbringing wasn’t like that of most of the peers I went to school with. To them, I was the sad, orphaned girl whose parents died. The poor kid. The introvert. Was I that way because of circumstance? Or because it’s simply who I am?
“I’m lonely,” I finish, my voice nearly inaudible as I look out the window at the buildings and trees that pass by.
“I’m twenty-five and barely have anything to show for it.
I work so much that I sacrifice friendships.
My family is—” I stop myself, the words lodging in my windpipe.
Shaking my head, I swallow them. “I don’t have anyone besides my sister, who has a husband, a child, and a stable career that keeps her busy.
And when I got an unexpected day off, I didn’t know who to reach out to or how to spend it. ”
Pathetic.
A comforting hand comes down on my arm, causing me to lower my gaze to the slender fingers resting on me.
“Take it from someone who understands,” she says in a gentle tone.
“Work is important, but it can’t be everything.
I have lived and breathed this career for the past decade of my life, and I don’t regret anything because it’s what I’ve always wanted to do.
But that’s in large part because of the people in my life who I can fall back on.
We are humans who need connection and companionship to survive and stay sane.
There needs to be more than work. You need to find ways to do more than exist.”
I follow her arm from where it’s extended in my direction, up and over to where she’s focusing on the road. I know she’s right. I’d like to think that once upon a time, I had more people in my life. But where had they gone? Had I tried that hard to keep them around? No, I hadn’t.
Perhaps because I’ve never believed I’m close to anybody—that I’m forgettable. Unimportant. I can barely recall half of the names in my class, and I spent my whole life in Fairbanks. If I can’t remember them, I’m certainly not on anybody’s radar of former classmates to check in on.
It isn’t my place to ask her how she can fall back on a person who doesn’t seem very trustworthy, but the curiosity eats me up inside. “And Moskins is someone that keeps you…sane?”
If I were in her shoes, I’m not sure I could rely on him for that sort of security.
I’m not very experienced in terms of dating, but I know when I deserve better.
I’ve been cheated on before, and it isn’t a good feeling.
Yet, Emaly is here on an entirely different coast from the one she works on because her husband is here.
She could have gone anywhere to take a break from her job, but she came to the one place Moskins is.
It makes no sense.
Emaly’s laugh is light. “I get why you’d think that seems asinine, given what people report about him.
But our relationship isn’t what people think it is.
Thomas is very private, and he’s kind. Like I’ve told you before, he wears a mask to present himself a certain way to protect what he values most.”
A crease forms between my brows. “Which is what?”
“Me.” Her answer is casual. Simple. The smile on her face warms. “And the people he loves. They have always mattered most to him. In his eyes, the public won’t try to dig into his life to learn about him if they think there’s nothing to see beyond some broody, entitled hockey player.
They see an asshole as an asshole and deem him a lost cause. ”
I start to reply, but take a minute. I’ve seen the articles and pictures.
They don’t seem photoshopped. And who would edit images to make themselves look bad, even if it’s to hide some deeper truth?
“So are all those cheating scandals and pictures of him walking out of hotels and closets with other women set-ups? Are you saying they’re fake? ”
They didn’t look fake to me. Not between the ruffled clothes and hair like they’d just got caught doing something they shouldn’t have been through a professional lens.
There’s a pregnant pause where she doesn’t offer me an answer. Then she lets out a quiet breath. “No. They’re not fake at all.”
A crack forms in my heart for her.
She knows he’s been cheating. And…she accepts it? Somebody as smart as her can’t possibly want to settle for that. Right?
Sadness sweeps up any self-pitying feeling I have and brushes it under the rug. “I’m sorry, Emaly,” I tell her quietly.
She shakes her head as she pulls up to the curb on a familiar side street, putting the car into park. “Don’t be,” she says, turning to me. “Having Thomas’s love is one of the best things that has ever happened to me.”
I have a feeling I’m not going to get any answers to alleviate the confusion, which only deepens the more this conversation continues.
“Come on,” she urges, turning the ignition off and opening her door. “Follow me.”
I open my door and gape at where we are. “I can’t be here,” I tell Emaly as she approaches the side door of the animal shelter. “I was specifically told not to come to the event today.”
She scoffs. “Screw what Ashton says. You were the organizer of this event, so you deserve to be here for it. We’ll make sure you’re not seen. I promise.”
What on earth is happening right now? “Me reaching out was more of a ‘let’s get coffee’ type of thing, not a ‘let’s smuggle me into an event’ kind of deal.”
She laughs and holds the door open for me. “But isn’t this so much more fun?”
No. No, it isn’t.
Reaching out to a client’s wife is bad enough. Coming with her to an event I was strictly pulled from is worse. Way worse.
“I’m so screwed,” I whisper, following her when she shows no effort to stop.
She presses her fingers to her lips as we enter a hallway where people are talking in the distance. Then she looks both ways, waves me forward, and tugs me to keep pace with her as we jog toward a closed door at the end of the narrow corridor.
“Why are you doing this?” I whisper, trying not to get caught. My heart is racing, and my hands are clammy as she releases my palm and reaches for the doorknob.
“Because,” she whispers back, “I love my husband. I want what’s best for him, so I’m going to do everything I can to make that happen.”
My brows pinch together.
She opens the door and says, “And he’s lonely too,” she concludes, pushing me inside the room and closing the door behind me as I tumble forward. I hear her fleeting giggle from the other side of the door.
“Whoa,” a gravelly voice says, before warm flesh smacks into me and strong hands appear at my biceps to steady my falling body.
When I look up, Thomas Moskins is standing shirtless in front of me in all of his six-pack ab glory.
“Hello there, sweetheart,” he all but purrs, those piercing blue-gray eyes looking down at me.
They’re rimmed with blue and nothing like I’ve ever seen before. Intense. Heated. Beautiful.
And despite my naivety with most men, I know for a fact they’re filled with interest.
I blink slowly.
Then blink again to make sure I’m seeing this right.
Because for the millionth time today, I ask myself what. The. Fuck?