24. Emily
EMILY
“He told me to meet him on the terrace for dinner.” I sidestep Holloway.
“I know. But he’s not out there yet.”
I blink at Holloway and smile. “It’s dinner. I can wait for him outside. I promise you I won’t run.”
“I know. Why don’t you wait in the den and have a drink—a non-alcoholic drink—and I’ll come get you when it’s time.”
“You’re really not going to move out of my way, are you?”
“No.”
“You’re really big.”
“Yes.” He puts his hands on his hips.
Thayer’s voice fills the corridor. “It’s fine, Holloway. I’ll accompany Emily to the patio.”
I wiggle my eyebrows at Holloway. It’s not a victory, but it almost feels like one.
Holloway steps to the side.
“You look lovely,” Thayer says, his hand lightly on my lower back.
“Thank you.”
“I haven’t seen you wear the new outfits I brought you.”
“True.”
“You don’t like them?”
Another polite smile as I follow the path out to the patio. It’s almost warm enough for my dress. “They’re—”
“Don’t lie to me Emily, you’re not good at lying. You’ve always said so yourself.”
“Not my style. I’m not much into designer labels. Durability and function is more my style. I like a pretty dress and nice things but not—”
“—what I bought. I can get you some other things.”
“Thank you,” I say, looking at his face. He’s a hard one to read. He’s always been that way. There’s a vulnerability in his tone which makes me leave out the fact that as much as I hate fast fashion, I’ve ordered a few necessities and they should arrive tomorrow.
When I turn away from him back to the path to the patio, my feet skitter to a stop.
The simple flagstone space with a single mahogany table has been transformed.
There are two arched trellises covered in ferns and white flowers.
From the trees, paper white lanterns swing in the early evening breeze.
In place of the long table is a lone round table for two, covered in a white tablecloth with swaths of flowers dripping to the ground. “You set this up?”
“I’m not a florist. But I did make the call to make it happen.”
“It’s impressive.” I touch the side of his arm, and I mean it. It’s beautiful. Everything I could ever imagine. Elegant, stunning, and private. Private . . . just the opposite of my ex-fiancé, and yet the public display might have been more called for.
There’s a small flare to his lips before his normal mask drops back into place. “I’m glad you approve. My decision-making has come into question recently.” He holds the chair for me.
“Thank you.”
Thayer takes his seat. With the table being so small, his leg brushes up against mine, and I have to remind myself this isn’t real. He’s not making this a romantic date because he wants to. This is for show.
“You didn’t have to do something like this.”
“I do what I want. I thought you already knew that.”
I arch my eyebrow. “I thought I’d told you, you have new rules.”
“I’m glad to abide by them, Emily.” He takes my hand in his and winks. “With everything that’s happened, I want to ask you officially.”
He drops to one knee, and my heart hitches.
I know this is fake, but it’s hard to contain the young girl in me who’d hoped for something like this or more.
When my ex proposed to me, he did it at his—not my father’s—golf course.
My stomach flips because he probably didn’t even plan it.
Candy, his mistress, probably did. He also didn’t go down on one knee.
“Emily Ann Rockwell, would you do me the honor of marrying me?”
I bite my lip. Staring into his hazel eyes, I blank out.
“Emily?” He takes my hand.
“Yes.” I smile, and my stomach drops and rises at the same time. Like I’ve swallowed a dozen bouncy balls.
He pulls a ring from his pocket. There’s no box. “This was my grandmother’s. If you want something else, we can get it later.”
“Right.”
“Can I have your hand?”
“Oh, right.” I put my hand out. Thayer slides on a simple diamond.
It’s not super large, but it’s not small either.
My ex gave me a four-carat diamond, and I hated it.
I never wanted to wear it. That should have been enough of a red flag for me to know.
This is the . . . the perfect ring. It’s scary even.
I stare up at him. “Your grandmother’s? Oscar’s wife?
” I never met either of his grandmothers, but his grandfather Oscar came to Green Pine at least three times the year we dated.
Once for his senior day in the fall, another time in the winter, and again at graduation.
Thayer never talked about his father and barely about his mother, but he told me countless stories about his grandfather Oscar. The man meant everything to Thayer.
“I can’t take this. You need to save this.” I try to take it off, but he clasps his hands over mine.
“You’re not going to lose it, are you?”
“No, of course not.”
“Then you wear it. It looks good on your hand.”
“It’s really lovely.” I stare from the ring to his hazel eyes. He hasn’t gotten up from the slate where he dropped to one knee. “You’re sure.”
“Absolutely. It looks lovely on you. I don’t remember my grandmother well. She died when I was little. And we weren’t living near them at the time. But I know Granddad Oscar liked you the few times he met you.”
“Thank you. I know how much he meant to you.”
Thayer moves to his chair. “I believe I was supposed to wait for dessert. But I didn’t want you to have to wait that long.”
“Thank you. I’ve never been a big one for surprises; they make me anxious.”
“I know.” Thayer spreads his napkin on his lap and hits a small button in the middle of the table.
“What’s that for?”
“So they know when to bring the food.”
“You didn’t have someone filming or taking photos?”
“No, what we do is between you, me, and your boyfriends.”
My jaw drops.
“Close your mouth. Because now it’s showtime.”
Right. Over my shoulder, three tuxedoed servers emerge from the house, followed by Esmeralda in a fresh white chef’s coat.
A server pours two glasses of champagne. I pick it up with suspicion.
“It’s sparkling cider, madame.”
“Oh, thank you. You could have had the real stuff.” I smile at Thayer like he’s the most amazing expectant father. Can’t let anything happen to my imaginary baby.
“This is good for tonight. Thank you.” He nods to the server as he retreats.
Plates are presented in front of us and uncovered at the same time.
“To celebrate, I’ve made you maple-glazed salmon and fresh asparagus.”
My eyes flick from the food to Esmeralda. “One of my favorite meals. Thank you.”
She nods. “Congratulations.”
“Oh, thank you.” The ring on my hand sparkles in the lantern light.
“It’s a very nice ring. Sofia would love it on your hand.” She bows her head and turns back to the house, the servers a few steps behind her.
I wasn’t lying when I said it’s one of my favorite meals. And it’s cooked to perfection.
I’m a quarter done with my salmon when the heat of Thayer’s gaze burns my skin. Looking up, I see he’s staring at me, with only a few bites eaten of his meal.
“Don’t you like it?”
“I do. But clearly not as much as you do.”
I put my fork down and wipe the corners of my mouth with the linen napkin. “Forgive me. I’ve always been a chowhound.”
“I know. It’s nothing to forgive. It’s honest.”
“It lacks etiquette. Or so I’ve been told.”
He picks up his sparkling drink. “Screw etiquette. Taking the world by storm is so much better.”
“To storming the castle.”
“To burning the castle down to the ground.” His eyes flash at mine. And I’m glad he understands my meaning. We are going to storm his father’s castle.
Glasses clink, and the diamond on my hand glows even brighter. I’m sorry, Sophia. I’m going to have to take your son down.
Dessert comes, and the servers put the bowls down in front of us in unison.
“That’s not an English dessert.”
“It’s not. I asked Esmeralda to make it.”
In the bowl in front of me is an apple crisp with an artful dollop of vanilla ice cream.
It was another favorite of mine when we went to the county fair.
Memories wash over me—a cool autumn breeze, warm sweaters, watching tractor pulls or strolling through barns full of prize-winning poultry.
“I loved the county fair. I haven’t been back in years. Not since Green Pine. You remembered?”
He bows his head, depriving me of his hazel eyes.
When he does look up, his mask is firmly back in place.
Thayer takes my hand and brings it to his lips.
A shiver zips through me. A shiver I don’t want and can’t afford to have.
I plant my feet on the slate stones and give a gentle tug, wanting my hand back, but his grip is firm and my hand goes nowhere.
“I asked the security team to give us some space for the first half-hour. Holloway had a team meeting, keeping them occupied.” He kisses my hand again, with the faintest smile on his lips.
He leans in and whispers into my ear. “You need to look like a woman in love, Em. A little less shell-shocked.”
I swallow down the churn of emotions coming up. His face hovers beside mine. I reach up and run my hand over the back of his head. Not unlike how I did with Anders a few hours ago. It’s hard not to compare. Anders’s hair is softer, but Thayer’s skin is smoother.
Thayer’s hand lands on the side of my head, and then we’re kissing.
The analytical part of my brain wants to list more differences, but there’s a buzzing that has shut my brain down, and all I can do is feel his warm lips.
The way his fingers control the angle of my head, his knee pushing in between my legs.
How, like a magnet, I’m just inching forward on my chair until I’m barely sitting, more hovering toward him.
I’m on fire. I’m nothing but hormones and adrenaline.
I want him, I need him, and when I slide completely off the chair, he catches me with his other hand, pulling me onto his lap.
I need to learn to be cooler. I need to stop this. This isn’t for show. I can’t be in his control. Not now, not ever. I pull away and stand, his knees on either side of me. With as much grace as I can muster, I straighten my skirt and ease back into my chair.
Thayer’s mask is gone, replaced by a smug grin. It stirs a lava of emotion in my gut that makes me want to slap him. I don’t slap people. Lilith—Lilith slaps people. I’m more of a chin-dropping, leave-the-room girl. Or apparently now crawl-up-on-your-lap-and-hump-you kind of girl.
I pick up my spoon. I’m going to savor every bite of this apple crisp, and then I’m going to the bedroom and putting on every piece of clothing I can find before I lie down and replay every last thing I’ve ever done wrong in my head for the rest of the night.
“How’s your dessert?” Thayer asks.
“Good. Good. How’s yours?”
“I can think of something I’d like to eat more.”
“Well, you should watch your calories. If we’re getting married, I’m going to have to put you on a diet.” I lean into his sexual innuendo. I’m not having sex with Thayer, and I’m not letting his mouth get anywhere near me again unless I have to.
He laughs and leans in like a lover telling a secret. “I’ve been calorie-free for a long time, Emily. And I believe you when you say I’m going to stay that way. Thank you for a convincing show.”