17. Chapter 17
Chapter 17
Emma
T he audacity of Jonathan to make my heart race with a single email after ignoring me for almost two weeks. The absolute nerve of him to play it like nothing is wrong, that a random woman didn’t kiss him, that he didn’t send me a hundred bouquets of flowers that I all let rot… but still secretly took photos of.
The first thing I’ll tell him in person is how wasteful he is for buying all those flowers. He’s better off planting his own garden at this point!
I march up and down the house, trying to dissolve the nerves that are beginning to crawl through me. Ever since I told him to stop sending flowers, he did. And yet, now that they’re gone, I can’t help but miss them.
Reed walks into my room to find me pacing, a smirk tugging at his lips as he leans casually against the doorframe. “Why do you look like that?”
“Like what?” I ask with a frown.
“I thought you girls needed hours to get ready.” He sighs before pointing at the clock behind me. “If you don’t get ready now, you’re going to be late to the banquet.”
Crap. I completely forgot I have somewhere to be tonight. The stupid banquet. Jonathan emailed me the details yesterday told me he’ll leave my dress in my room at his house—which I find very inconvenient—and that I should meet him there.
“I totally forgot,” I groan, glad that at least I just showered. “I’m going to get ready now.”
Reed nods as he fixes his cuffs. “Don’t be too late. Jonathan has to be there on time to give an impressive speech and all that.”
I don’t wait around to hear the rest of what he says. I scramble back to my room to get ready. My hair is completely undone, and my makeup needs a lot of work. Shoot, how did I forget the date? Jonathan told me this would be the last time we’d need to be seen in public together, and afterward, we could quietly finalize our divorce.
I thought that was okay, since I don’t want anything to do with him anyway. But why does the idea still hurt? Thinking about never speaking to him again makes me feel empty.
I rush through my makeup, and it surprises me how good it turns out. I hurry through fixing my hair, and now I need to get my dress. I glance out of the window to find that Jonathan’s house is in complete darkness, meaning he’s likely already gone to the banquet. He told me he’ll leave the door open for me, and I need to lock up after myself.
When I walk into the house, I feel like it’s alive. I can feel Jonathan’s presence in every room, and memories swirl in my head. I start to think fondly of our kiss, but then the image of that woman kissing him and him not pulling away comes to mind, and my stomach curdles with hate and absolute disgust at myself for still having feelings for him.
“Stupid Emma,” I mutter to myself as I walk into the bedroom that was assigned to me. I let out an audible gasp. The gown before me is phenomenal—a floor-length silver dress covered with sequins and a low neckline. It’s glorious to even look at, and I fear I’ve never worn anything as exquisite as this dress.
I quickly slip it on, and I’m surprised to find that it’s my perfect size. It doesn’t sag anywhere, and it feels like a second skin. When I stare at myself in the mirror, I don’t recognize the person looking back at me.
What proves difficult is the zip behind me. I try to reach it, but I’m scared of straining so far that I tear the fabric and ruin it.
“Let me help you.” I hear his voice before I see him, and Jonathan materializes right behind me. He looks handsome in his tailored suit, with his hair styled to perfection. It takes all my willpower to get my brain working again, because seeing him like this feels almost wrong.
“I—” Before I can protest, his hands move behind me and I feel his fingers brushing the nape of my neck, making me inhale sharply. Slowly and deviously, he trails his hand down my spine and slowly zips my dress up.
Jonathan leans down, his breath warm against my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. The air between us tightens, thick with something unspoken. He says nothing else, and yet the tension is there, hot and needy as ever. It curls around us, and I know he can feel it too.
He pushes my hair back with one hand, causing my heart to break into a sprint. Jonathan turns me around so I’m facing the mirror, and I see him reflected in the glass, his mouth dangerously close to my ear.
“You look beautiful today, my wife,” he whispers into my ear, making me shiver again. I lean into him without thinking. I can’t seem to control my movements or my thoughts around him. I lean against his hard chest and inhale the smell of his cologne. It’s divine.
“I hope I’m not late for the banquet,” I whisper, my eyes lazily blinking up at him.
Jonathan grins at me. “It’s fine. We’re the main event anyway. We can take a few moments of our time to appreciate your beauty.”
I can’t help it—I give him a huge smile. “Have you always been such a smooth talker? I feel like I never knew this part of you existed.”
He just smiles and says nothing else, eyes completely focused on me. He doesn’t waver, doesn’t even blink. At moments like these, it’s hard to remember that this is all fake. My mind is so clouded that I can’t differentiate between reality and fiction.
“Is this real?” I find myself asking, unable to stop the question. I want to know if it’s real. I want to know what he thinks of me, of us . I want to ask about the woman who kissed him, and what she means to him. I want to ask about the flowers that he got me, the same ones that he stopped sending because I told him not to. I want to say so much, but I can’t make all the words come out.
Then, just as fast as he smiled and flirted with me, he pulls away.
Jonathan’s expression hardens, his gaze fixed on anything but me. Not a smile, not even a glance in my direction. My stomach twists, a cold weight settling in my chest as the warmth from moments ago vanishes. He steps away from me and clears his throat as he stares down at his watch.
“We’re running late, Emma, so I suggest you hurry up and get ready,” Jonathan says in a cold voice, so cold that I feel it running down my spine. It shatters me in a way, leaving me feeling a cacophony of emotions. Most of all, I feel thoroughly confused at his sudden coldness.
“Jonathan?” I say his name like a question. I can’t even hide the fact that I’m wounded. My throat closes up as I watch him turn into the stoic version of himself. This feels foreign to me.
“What?” he asks, frowning. “I need you to get ready so we can leave. We can’t dally around all day, Emma. I returned to pick you up, and you aren’t even ready.”
I want to cry, or maybe laugh at myself for being such a fool for letting my heart feel anything for this man. I can’t believe him.
“You’re sick,” I say to him, disgusted. “I get that you’re literally the devil incarnate, but you can’t play around with my feelings like this.”
Jonathan gives me a hard stare, exhaling sharply as he straightens his tie. “You reminded me, remember?” His voice is flat, devoid of any warmth. “None of this is real, and I don’t see the point in being nice to you when you said it yourself that this is all fake. No one is watching us.”
I let out a hoarse laugh, my fists clenching at my sides, even though nothing about this is funny. I’m very aware of the fact that this is my fault. Jonathan is using my words against me, and I can’t believe I ever had any feelings for him. My eyes sting with tears, but I hold them back. If he wants to be unfeeling, then I won’t show my real feelings either. I will look ahead and pretend he doesn’t exist.
I nod at him coolly. “I need a moment alone to finish up here. Thank you very much for helping me with the zipper.”
Jonathan nods once, pauses, and then leaves me alone. The second he leaves, I feel the urge to crumple onto the floor and cry. I want to sob into my pillow and then return to my room at Reed’s house and cry some more. Now when I look in the mirror, the silver dress looks ugly. I want to tear this dress apart, to ruin it completely—so I never have to think of Jonathan again.
But no, I have to show up. It doesn’t matter what my heart yearns for, because I won’t get it. I think of the contract, the deal we have yet to complete. I just have to attend this last event, and then I’ll be done with him.
Maybe I’ll even move out, leave this town behind, and start a different life. Perhaps I could return to New York now that I have a manuscript that’s nearly finished and another story idea in my head. I think of it for a while and it doesn’t sound like a bad idea, but it feels a lot like running away, which is something I don’t want Jonathan to think I’m doing.
Besides, I love Grover Hill too much to leave because of him. I love being here. The scenery is better than anything in the big city, and I love my brother and my best friend too much to leave them again. Besides, it’s my hometown. I was born here and my parents were buried here. I can’t leave all of this just because my heart feels like a thousand needles are being stabbed into it.
Okay, maybe not a thousand needles. But still, I should move on.
“Okay, you’ve got this,” I say to my reflection, and I take several deep breaths. My reflection looks ready, but I still feel like a disaster on the inside.
I guess that’s the thing about emotions—no one truly knows what you’re feeling unless they can see the cracks in your heart. But no one will. Not even Jonathan.
I walk out to meet him. He stands by the door, arms crossed and his gaze distant, like he’d rather be anywhere else. I don’t even glance his way. Instead, I walk toward the door, and he follows me. Jonathan’s long strides easily outpace mine, and he reaches the door first, holding it open with a practiced ease. A gentleman’s gesture—one that doesn’t fit the man I know he is.
I say nothing to him as I get into the car and he starts driving. The night air rushes in, cool against my skin, but it does nothing to ease the tightness in my chest. I stare out the window, pretending the town’s lights blur the thoughts running wild in my head. I don’t smile, or even pretend to be human, until I see the lights of the venue and several cameras waiting for Jonathan and me to put on a show.
“Ready?” he asks, and I nod.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”