Chapter 25
CHAPTER 25
E MILY
“What in the actual hell?” Shayna says to me and Annie as we peer out the window of the party bus at the scene unfolding before our eyes.
“Don’t they hate each other?” Annie asks, innocently.
“Yes,” Shayna says. “Well, Trina hates him. We don’t think Ben hates her. Right, Em?”
Our eyes are still glued to the situation playing out on Annie’s sidewalk. Trina and Ben, squaring off in what appears to be a heated disagreement. And a random woman standing off to the side.
“Yeah. Except I didn’t tell you guys, but they actually showed up at my house together a few weeks ago.”
Shayna whips around to face me. “What?” Her eyes look like they’re going to bulge out of her head.
I shrug. “I had a lot going on with getting the house on the market and everything else. I forgot. But something weird is definitely going on.”
Apparently, Janie—Annie’s best friend and maid of honor—has had enough because she sticks her head out of the party bus and yells, “Let’s go. We’re gonna be late to our first stop if you continue this lovers’ quarrel.”
Trina turns her head to glare at Janie so fast, I swear she looks possessed.
“You don’t scare me, Trina. Move it,” Janie sasses.
“Damn, she’s so brave.” I can’t help but laugh.
A minute later, a very pissed off Trina, her lips curled and her facial expression tight, stomps her way onto the bus, followed by the woman who was standing with her and Ben.
“Everyone, this is Rachel. She’s an off-duty police officer. Because apparently Ben Donley is bossy as shit and thinks we need a protective detail tonight.”
Poor Rachel just nods her head and gives a half wave to everyone before she sits down.
Trina makes her way to where Annie, Shayna, and I are sitting and plants herself in a seat. She pulls out her phone and types, her fingertips pounding into the screen so hard that I’m surprised she doesn’t crack it.
I assume she’s sending a text message, and she mutters to herself while jerking her head angrily side to side. I can’t quite make out what she’s saying, but whoever is on the receiving end of that text—Ben, I would guess—is likely getting reamed.
Annie, Shayna, and I look at each other, and I shrug. None of us are saying anything. Shayna mouths ask her to me.
I clear my throat. “Tri? This is weird. What’s going on? First, you show up at my house with Ben. Now he shows up here with a police escort for us.”
“Yeah, and Finn said there are some additional security measures being taken at the fire station,” Shayna chimes in.
I didn’t know that, and it escalates my worry rather than appeases it.
Trina huffs and puts down her phone, then turns to us.
“Don’t freak out,” she warns. She looks at me as if she’s waiting for me to agree before continuing.
“Um, okay. But telling me not to freak out is exactly the kind of thing that makes me think you’re gonna tell me something I should freak out about.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “It’s nothing, really. Just some weirdo who I must have run into on a call or something and now he’s acting a little obsessed.”
“What? You have a stalker?” Shayna hisses.
Trina sighs. “I do not have a stalker. More like a secret admirer.”
I hear Rachel snort from her seat and if Trina could do it, I swear her glare at the back of Rachel’s head would catch the woman’s hair on fire.
“Okay, fine. Whoever it is has gotten a bit more… aggressive and explicit in the messages they’ve been sending. So, Ben is working the case and just trying to do one more thing to annoy me, as per usual.” As an afterthought, she looks over at Shayna. “No offense. I know he’s your brother.”
“None taken. Both my brothers can be annoying,” Shayna responds.
“Hey. One of those annoying brothers is my fiancé,” Annie protests.
“Excuse me!” They stop their back and forth and look at me. “Can we please get back to the part where my sister said she has an ‘aggressive and explicit’ creeper after her to where Ben is worried enough to send a police officer with us?” The fear in my voice is palpable.
Trina sighs deeply. “This is exactly why I told him Rachel shouldn’t come. It would just make everyone nervous. Em, I promise you I’m fine. I’m being safe and I’m sure the guy is some harmless weirdo living in his mom’s basement and he’ll never actually seek me out. Now, please, can we just enjoy the night?”
“But, what if?—”
“Emily. Please. I need this night out without thinking about that or anything else except having a good time. Okay? I’m being careful. I promise.” Trina’s tone, usually confident and solid, sounds tired, shaky even. I fix my gaze on her for several long seconds, looking for any sign that she’s not being honest with me and, finding none, I nod in agreement.
But I’m not sure I’m going to enjoy myself tonight with this news.
Apparently, I’m wrong, because a half hour and two shots later, I’m relaxing and dancing with my friends. And I don’t mean to do a third shot in the first hour out, but when the bartender slides me and Shayna what he calls a Creamsicle Crush shot, on the house, I can’t refuse. Honestly, nor do I want to.
Janie has us playing a party game—whoever gets the most unsolicited phone numbers tonight wins one hundred dollars. Not a bad deal. By the time we leave the first bar, I’ve already got two.
I’m sure my outfit is helping. It’s fucking killer. Shayna and I have this thing we do when we’re going out. We pick out each other’s outfit—always tasteful—but we try to one up each other on the sexiness factor. Tonight, she’s got me in a rust-hued satin slip dress that hits just at mid-thigh with spaghetti straps and a cowl neckline. I love it and I feel pretty in it. And the shoes. Oh. My. God. They’re a copper-colored strappy shoe that laces about six inches up my ankle and they have an almost four-inch heel. I’m in love.
It also doesn’t hurt that Shayna and Annie are giving off serious ‘I’m taken, don’t flirt with me’ vibes and Trina is so gorgeous that most men are too intimidated to approach her.
But damn Christine is my actual competition. You’d think she wouldn’t be since she’s in her fifties, but, man, she knows how to work the crowd and there are a fair number of silver foxes out tonight.
Game on, Christine. Game on.
The rest of the night goes as expected—a penis hat for Annie to wear around, penis shaped cookies that Shayna made, and a lot of alcohol. So much alcohol. Oh, and of course we have some dancing mixed in. I have a great time, only thinking about the fact that I need to start house hunting, and that I miss hanging out with Charlie, a few times.
After the last bar, Janie counts the phone number tally and that vixen Christine beat me, having eleven numbers to my nine. In reality, I’m okay with it. I won’t use them, anyway. None of us are in a state that we can drive, so I’m super grateful that we have the party bus. We drop a few of the ladies off at home and decide the rest of us want to crash the bachelor party.
Around midnight we try to sneak up on the guys, who are having a poker night on the patio at Ben’s house. However, the amount of alcohol we’ve consumed has seriously impaired our ability to be stealthy, and we’re found out almost immediately.
My eyes find Charlie, and he’s already looking at me, a hardened look in his eyes. I turn my gaze away as I whimper at how good he looks in black jeans and a fitted gray T-shirt that emphasizes his muscular frame. He looks delicious. I can’t help but giggle, even though I’m still pissed at him.
As I look around the patio, I take in the scene around me. Trina walking into Ben’s house with him following closely behind her. So weird. Annie and Jack are in an embrace. Shayna and Finn are off dancing away from everyone else. It all makes me feel temporarily more sober than I am.
I’m happy for my friends—thrilled, really—that they’ve found the kind of love they have with these guys. But my heart hurts, too. I know Teddy’s only been gone nine months, but I miss being loved romantically.
My vision blurs from unshed tears so I sit on a bench off to the side and close my eyes for a few seconds, hoping the slight dizziness from all the shots and the self-pity will go away. Instead, I’m taken back to how I felt when I saw Charlie’s phone a few weeks ago.
Damn this Bluetooth thing. Why do I always struggle with it? I’m toggling on Charlie’s Bluetooth when his phone vibrates in my hand and a text message pops up. I don’t mean to read it. It’s just instinct.
Linette: I’m free this Saturday if that works for you.
I don’t read the others, but the screen shows that the conversation has been going on for at least several texts. Linette? My co-worker?
My stomach drops and I momentarily feel nauseated when I realize Charlie is dating.
I force my eyes open. I don’t want to see that screen in my memories again. Nor do I want to relive that moment when I realized Charlie’s freakout after our kiss wasn’t about him not wanting to get involved with anyone. He just doesn’t want to get involved with me .
* * *
CHARLIE
I’m not sure what’s going on with Trina and Ben, but when Ben comes outside to make a plan for how we’re getting the women home safely tonight, Jack takes responsibility to get Janie home and Ben, shocking all of us, says he will make sure Trina is safe. Which is good because she is seriously toasted. And clearly, by the intimacy radiating off Shayna and Finn as they dance off to the side, Finn will get Shayna home.
“I’ll make sure Emily gets home,” I say.
I’m watching her out of the corner of my eye as she sits off to the side, alone. At first her eyes are closed, then they open, and she looks distressed, taking deep breaths in through her nose then out her mouth. That’s something I know she learned in therapy to help when she’s upset or anxious. Or when something triggers her. Worry for her overcomes me. I want to fix it—whatever it is.
Once our plan is in place, I say goodbye to everyone—well, except Finn and Shayna, because I’m not breaking that up—and walk over to Emily. I sit on the bench next to her.
“Hi.” My voice is practically a whisper. “Are you okay?”
She shocks me when she whips her head in my direction. “Are you okay? I bet you are.” Her voice holds a note of challenge, and her forehead scrunches up. Then, suddenly, her shoulders sag and her face transitions to a more relaxed look. She glances down at her feet. “Shit, I’m sorry. I think it’s the alcohol making me bolder than normal. And maybe a little mean.”
I chuckle. “You’re not mean. But I know something is bothering you. Truthfully, I’ll take this Emily over the one who won’t talk to me.” I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees, my back slightly arched.
She doesn’t speak, not even to deny that she’s been avoiding me.
I shake my head and turn to look at her. “What do you say I take you home?”
“No. I can just get an Uber. I don’t need your help.” Her tone is dismissive.
“Jesus, Em. I’m trying to be patient, but I have no idea what I did to make you mad at me. And I’m not letting you get in an Uber when you’ve been drinking and you’re dressed like that.”
“What’s wrong with how I’m dressed?” She narrows her eyes at me.
“Nothing. You look fucking amazing. That’s the problem. So, you can hate me if you want but I’ll pick you up and haul your ass to my truck if I have to before I’ll let you get in a car with some stranger.”
Her gorgeous blue eyes home in on me and she nods, then mutters, “Fine. Let me just say goodbye to everyone.” She stands and walks over to our friends, doling out hugs and kisses on the cheek.
I realize she left her phone on the bench when it dings next to me. I should ignore it, but I don’t. Who the hell texts someone after midnight? Everyone most important to her is here.
Carl: Hey beautiful. It was nice to meet you tonight. Where are you ladies now?
It dings again.
Carl: I can meet you wherever you’re at. We can get to know each other better.
My heart is pounding in my chest and my hands shake.
Who the fuck is Carl?
The phone dings a few more times, but I force myself to look away and focus on Emily as she walks back to me.
I wasn’t kidding, she’s fucking stunning in the dress she’s wearing.
As I watch her, I’m filled with a desire to slide my hands along the material, feel her curves under the smooth fabric, and wrap my hands in the long golden hair that’s flowing down her back in loose waves. And those damn heels—they’re sexy as hell. Now, those are ‘fuck me’ heels. I have to force back a growl that threatens to escape me at the thought of her out looking like that tonight, drinking and dancing with God knows who.
Christ, stop it. What the fuck is wrong with me? This is Emily. She’s not mine and she can’t be.
“All right, I’m ready,” she says as she walks by me, not even stopping.
I stand and follow her as she saunters to my truck, ready to grab her if she stumbles. I didn’t realize until now, as I watch her swaying, but she might be more intoxicated than I originally thought.
On the ride home, Emily is uncharacteristically quiet, her pretty head resting on the passenger side window and staring out the glass. Her phone dings multiple times and she ignores it. When we arrive at her house and I’ve parked the truck, I hop out and make my way around to help her out. She doesn’t wait for me, though, and I get there just in time to catch her as she topples forward.
She swats me away. “I’ve got it. I can take care of myself. And I wouldn’t want you to lose another girlfriend because you’re around me too much.” Her words come out angry, harsh.
Without waiting for a reply, she bolts for her front door.
Girlfriend? What in the hell is she talking about? I close the truck passenger door, shut my eyes, and take a deep breath before I open them again and walk to her front porch, where she’s still fumbling with her keys.
When she finally gets the door open and steps into the house, she turns to face me.
“Charlie, you can go home now. I’m fine.” The glistening in her eyes says she’s lying.
I enter the house anyway and shut and lock her door behind me.
“Let me just get you some water and headache pills for morning, and I’ll go. Why don’t you go upstairs and get ready for bed? Okay?”
Her phone dings again, and she digs it out of her purse, glances down at it and heads for the stairs. “Sure. If that’s what you want.” Her tone is dismissive and I’m trying to remain patient but I’m starting to get genuinely pissed at her even though I know I shouldn’t.
I get her a glass of water and some pain medication from her first-floor bathroom, then head up to her bedroom. To give her enough time to get dressed for bed, I lean against the hallway wall for a few minutes, then knock and crack the door.
“Are you decent?” I call out.
“Yes.”
I push the door the rest of the way open and walk in. And I nearly drop the water when I find Emily standing at her nightstand, plugging her phone into the charger in a white T-shirt and her underwear.
“Shit. I thought you said you were dressed.” I move to back out of the room but stop when Emily laughs.
“I said I was decent . This is decent. You’ve seen me in a bikini. This covers more.” She’s grinning like this amuses her.
“That was a long time ago. And it wasn’t in your bedroom.” My voice is low and rough, and I nearly lose my shit when the grin disappears from her face, and she pulls her lower lip between her teeth.
Ding .
I snap. “For fuck’s sake, Em. Can you answer him already, so he stops texting?” My voice sounds angry. Frustrated, I rub the back of my neck, and walk over to set the water and medicine on her nightstand.
“Him? You don’t know who’s texting me.”
I turn to face her and sigh. “Yeah, I do. Because Carl texted you when you left your phone on the bench at Ben’s, and I saw it. I wasn’t trying to, but I did.”
Her jaw drops and her eyes widen. She huffs and sits down on the side of the bed.
“Listen, it’s none of my business. If you want to exchange numbers with a guy, then?—”
“Nine.” Her interruption confuses me. She must see my bewilderment on my face. “Nine guys. Not one.”
I have no right, but, in an instant, I’m immensely furious with her. I stare at her for several long moments, and she doesn’t back down, refusing to break our eye contact first. She’s so damn stubborn. I don’t know what is happening here, but I hate it. And I’m too fucking tired to deal with it.
Drained, I look toward the door. “I gotta go. I’ll lock up on my way out.”
I’m halfway to the bedroom door when she quietly asks, “So, it’s okay for you, but not for me?”
And I stop, not because of her words, but because of the hitch in her voice, the pain I hear. I slowly turn back to face her, but she’s looking down at the floor.
“What do you mean? You’ve said some weird things tonight. Can you just tell me what this is about? Please.”
“I k-know you’re dating Linette. I saw her text when I took your phone to connect the Bluetooth.” Her voice is so quiet it’s almost a whisper. She lifts her gaze to meet mine and the moisture building in her eyes nearly breaks me.
In a flash, it all makes sense. Her change in mood that night a few weeks ago, her distance since, and her comments about me having a girlfriend. I move to her side and sit down next to her on the bed. She’s wringing her hands and staring at them like they’re the most interesting thing in the world.
“Hey”—careful to be gentle, I place a thumb and index finger under her chin and turn her head so she has to look at me—“I’m not dating Linette. Trina gave her my number that day at the school, and she keeps texting, but I was never interested in her. I wouldn’t start dating someone and not tell you. Besides, I don’t want to date anyone el—” Her eyes widen, and I clear my throat. “I’m not looking to meet anyone.”
A tear slips down her cheek and I wipe it away with the pad of my thumb. Only, more follow it.
“I-I thought that y-you were gonna be with her and figured I’d have to stop spending s-so much time with you. So, I tried to pull back preemptively. I thought it would hurt less if I did it.” More tears flow and she sniffles.
“Don’t do that again. Okay? I hated it.” I wrap my arm around her and pull her into my side.
“Okay,” she whispers.
We sit quietly for several moments, and then I can’t hold back, wanting to lighten the mood.
“Nine? It was truly nine?”
A soft giggle escapes Emily and when I chuckle, her giggle turns into a full-on laugh. Then, she suddenly throws her hands over her face and in a muffled voice, she says, “Oh my God. Snot is coming out!” She jumps up and runs to the bathroom.
When she comes out a minute later, her cheeks are flushed pink and I’m trying my hardest not to smirk. I’m failing. She glares at me.
“I’m sorry. It’s snot funny,” I tease.
“Charlie!”
I stand up and pull her into a hug and, God, it feels good to have things back to normal with us. Still embracing, she whispers, “Do you know this weekend would have been my first wedding anniversary?”
I squeeze her a little tighter. “Yeah. I know. I’m so sorry for how everything turned out. If I could take away all the pain of this last year for you, I would.”
She tightens her hold around my waist.
“Will you stay with me tonight? I don’t want to be by myself.”
I can’t say no to her. And I really don’t want to. “Yeah. But I’m really gonna need you to put on some shorts. Please.”
Emily laughs against my chest. “Deal.”
Five minutes later, we’re in her bed, me in my boxers and T-shirt and her, thankfully, with some shorts added to her ensemble. I lie on my back, and she snuggles into my side, resting her head on my chest. I reach over and turn off the light.
A few minutes go by and I’m sure she’s fallen asleep by the rhythm of her breathing—steady and relaxed—but she surprises me when she whispers. “I missed you these last few weeks.”
I tilt my head down and place a kiss on her hair. “I missed you, too.”