2. Ford
FORDCHAPTER 2
“ W hat an incredible night, huh?” I said, reaching my arm around Emzee to rub her shoulder.
It was almost midnight.
After the fundraiser had finally wound down, we’d dealt with some administrative tasks and now we stood outside waiting for the car service to arrive.
“Mm,” she replied, edging out of my grasp.
So she was still upset.
And at this point, it seemed unlikely it had anything do with the event.
It was something to do with me.
Great.
At least we were headed home.
I had never in my life been so glad for a party to end.
Back in my single days, I would have been gearing up for the after-party, not wanting the evening to end, happy to just keep the drinks flowing and have a good time with my friends.
That was all behind me.
Married life had made me a homebody.
Well, not just that.
It was Emzee specifically.
She’d taught me to appreciate a night in, taught me the true meaning of Netflix and chill in the most literal sense, and yeah, I was excited to see Munchkin after work so he could attack me with slobbery French bulldog kisses.
But I had no idea what would happen once we got back to the apartment tonight.
If my wife would have a conversation with me, or even be willing to sleep in the same room.
I’d barely gotten a moment alone with her all evening, which I’d convinced myself was the result of her being in such high demand.
She’d done amazingly well, just as I knew she would.
Working her magic, schmoozing with potential donors, charming their damn socks off and getting those wallets open.
See Yourself had already earned money from the fundraiser tickets, of course, but the organization was going to reap the benefits of this night long term, thanks to the fact that it had shined a bright, positive light on the charity and welcomed a whole new batch of donors to the fold.
And it was all because of Emzee’s passion and hard work.
“Did you get a chance to talk to the reporter from the Tribune ?” I asked, trying to warm her up.
“She was pretty impressed by See Yourself’s mission statement. I saw her making the rounds and chatting up the guests, but she told me she wanted to interview you too.”
“We spoke,” Emzee said, not even turning in my direction.
“I’m sure it went well. What about the guy taking notes for the Sun-Times and whomever the Daily Herald sent?”
Whirling toward me, Emzee glared.
“Yes, Ford, I chatted up every single guest, rubbed every last elbow, and met every fucking obligation that I had tonight. Claudia certainly covered all the PR bases with her invitations. Maybe she’s the one you should be congratulating.”
Frowning, I said, “It’s your charity, Em, and this was your event. I’m congratulating you . Why are you pissed at me? What did I do?”
She scowled.
“You know what you did. And you thought you could get away with it.”
“Can you just tell me how I fucked up, so I can apologize? You’ve barely said two words to me since we got here, and every time you look at me I see daggers in your eyes.”
It was true.
Even now, I was getting nothing but pure loathing from her expression.
Of course that was the exact moment our town car rolled up.
“Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Malone,” the driver said, climbing out to open the back door for us.
Emzee nodded at him and slid into the back seat.
I followed after her.
By the time I was settled, my wife already had her back to me, eyes glued to her cell phone.
“Em?” I said, speaking softly.
“No,” she snapped. “Just don’t.”
I was at a loss.
Despite my earlier fears, her attitude didn’t seem to have anything to do with the possible overwhelm of us embarking on the rest of our lives together as a couple.
This seemed like…pure anger.
What did I do?
Sighing, I loosened my bow tie and shrugged out of my suit jacket.
Retracing my steps following our quickie in the guest room at my parents’ place, I racked my brain trying to remember what I could have done or said to mess things up, some misstep I must have taken during the gala.
Did I inadvertently insult a big name donor?
Impossible. I’d been going to events like this since I was a kid.
I knew how to act around these kinds of people.
Had I given Emzee the impression that I’d been flirting with other women?
If so, it would only have been out of professional cordiality, to encourage more donations—no other woman could catch my attention these days.
I was sure my wife knew that.
And sure, Claudia had been eye-fucking me all night, but that wasn’t my fault.
I hadn’t encouraged it.
Even if Emzee had caught sight of Claudia putting her hands on me, she would have also seen how quickly I brushed off my ex’s advances.
We were already halfway home.
My place in Streeterville was barely a mile from the Four Seasons.
The last thing I wanted was for us to go to bed angry once we got there.
“Please talk to me,” I tried again, but she didn’t look up from her phone.
“Whatever it is, I can’t fix it if I don’t know what I did wrong.”
Tucking her phone into her bag, she glanced up at the privacy window separating us from the driver and seemed to realize that we were alone for the first time this evening.
“Actually, I’ve got a question for you,” she said, sliding closer to me, eyes narrowing.
“Okay. Shoot.”
“Do you remember our sophomore year at Wayland-Blaine? The year we met?”
Suddenly I was uneasy.
“Yeah…”
“Who wrote that I was a whore on all the lockers? Who started all those rumors about me? Do you know anything about that, Ford? Hmm?”
The world dropped out from under me.
How the hell did she find out about?—
And then I realized exactly how.
Of course.
Fucking Claudia.
I knew she was involved somehow.
That explained her satisfied little grin.
Her smug comments. Her marriage advice.
I was furious at Claudia, but I’d deal with her later.
Right now, I needed to make things right with my wife.
“Look, I can explain.”
“ You ,” she said, her voice full of disgust. “You’re the one who started all the rumors. Why? Just so you could be the one to save me from them? Do you have any idea how fucked up that is? Or what it feels like to know our entire relationship is based on a lie?”
My stomach churned.
“But that was…” I started, then shook my head.
“It was a long time ago, and you don’t have the full story?—”
“I don’t need any more of your stories!” she cut me off.
“I’ve had enough of them. Of you. So just stop.” She turned back toward the window, dismissing me like I barely mattered.
“There was more to it,” I insisted, feeling sick.
Glancing over, Emzee hissed, “Really? Like what? That you knew about my father’s ‘other business’ back then?”
My mouth opened, and then closed.
How could I even begin to answer that?
“Well?” Emzee prodded.
“Did you?”
Fuck .
I didn’t think the situation could get any worse, that there could be anything more damaging than confessing that yes, I’d been the one to graffiti the locker room back at the academy and start the rumors about Emzee being a whore.
But admitting that I’d known about her father’s sex trafficking ring all those years ago would hurt her even more.
So I didn’t answer her.
Unfortunately, my lack of response only confirmed for Emzee what she already knew.
Blinking back tears, she let out a hollow laugh.
“You did know. All that time I was in the dark about my dad and the KZ models, you knew . Seven years we were friends, Ford, and you knew the entire time . And you kept it all a secret. You kept both of your secrets.”
“Wait. You need to understand,” I said, knowing I sounded desperate.
“Things were different back then. I was different back then. I’m not the same kid I was in high school.”
She looked at me and I waited for that spark, for that sign of affection that I always saw in her eyes.
That indication that I was still her hero, even after all of this.
But there was nothing there but pain, anger, and betrayal.
“No,” she said. “Back then you were a shitty kid.”
Her words felt like a knife in my chest. Then she continued, twisting it even deeper.
“Now, you’re just a bad person.”
Our car had pulled up to the curb outside my building, but when the driver came around to open the car door, she didn’t move to get out.
Instead, she crossed her arms.
“Emzee, let’s go upstairs. I’ll make you tea, and we can sit and talk it out.”
She shook her head.
“I’m not going anywhere with you. I’m going to Stefan’s. Now get the hell out.”