19. Emory
19
EMORY
I pull up to my dad’s circular driveway, after doing the whole song and dance at the gate, at exactly eight o’clock. I scramble out of the car and rush up to the front door. Maeve takes my jacket and doesn’t have anything to say about my attire for once.
“They’re in the sitting room,” she says as she ushers me down the hallway. They? Not again. You have to be kidding me. I round the corner and see my dad, scotch glass in hand, chuckling as the brown liquid sloshes back and forth with his movements. He looks up when he hears me enter.
“Oh, Emory. I’m so glad you could finally join us.” His tone is slightly biting.
“I told you I’d be here at eight. It’s eight.” I can't help but sound annoyed and frustrated as I glance at the other couch across the coffee table, where my dad is sitting, and notice a man sitting there with his back to me. He’s wearing a navy suit, and his hair is cut close at the sides but styled perfectly on the top where it’s a little longer.
Ashton?
No, his hair is too light.
He turns around, flashing a saccharine smile that showcases his flawless white teeth on his tanned face.
No.
A rush of nausea rolls through me like a tidal wave, and I falter on my feet. The room tilts sideways as the dizziness crashes into me. I taste bile, bitter and sour, as it rises to the surface and coats the back of my throat. My stomach lurches and my chest tightens. Shit, I’m going to be sick. I swallow it down, willing myself not to throw up right here in the middle of the living room. But then my eyes start to cloud, and everything becomes blurry. I blink, feeling liquid start to seep out of them. I rub my eyes quickly, smearing the tears on the back of my hands.
“Emory, did you hear me?” My dad says, completely oblivious to my state of panic. Did I? No. I haven’t heard anything in the past thirty seconds. Not since I saw Jaxon sitting on my father’s couch. He looks almost exactly the same as the last time I saw him. Perfectly styled sandy blonde hair, angular jawline, piercing green eyes. But there is something different. He has dark circles under his eyes and what looks like a fading bruise colors his cheek with light splashes of purple and yellow. He looks like he’s been beaten down a little.
“Emory, this is Jaxon Forbes,” he says as if he’s repeating himself, his tone irritated at best.
“He’s thinking of hiring us,” my dad goes on. “His family has a real estate firm in New York, but they are looking to beef up their cybersecurity at their California location. Anyway, I figured since Nate was gone, we could use one more person to round out the dinner table.”
I look at my dad and back to Jaxon, whose smile has turned dark and unsettling. He’s holding a rocks glass, like my father, but his contains clear liquid instead. Grey Goose on the rocks. His drink of choice. The smell of vodka still makes my stomach churn.
“Nice to meet you, Emory,” Jaxon speaks in the factory-made, sweet tone I know so well. “Sorry about imposing on family time. I had a few logistical questions for your father, and he insisted I stay.” He stands up while he speaks and holds his hand straight out to me. I stare down at it, frozen, like it’s a grenade about to detonate.
“Emory,” my dad says under his breath. “You’re being rude.”
I snap myself out of the trance I’m in, pushing down the nausea and dizziness. If this is fight or flight, I’m choosing to fight. I’m stronger now. I’m not that same girl I was three years ago.
But aren’t you?
I reach out and shake his hand. “Nice to meet you, Jaxon,” I manage to grit out. I never told my father about my relationship in college. He never took an interest in my dating life until recently, so I didn’t feel the need to tell him. The last thing I needed was for Nate to find out. He would have beaten Jaxon to death with his bare hands if he knew how he treated me. Jaxon didn’t mind that I hid him from my family. Fewer people in my corner to support me or tell me to leave him. But why was he still pretending not to know me? What did it matter to him now?
“Dinner is served, sir,” Maeve announces, interrupting my thoughts.
“Great, shall we?” My dad leads the way out to the dining room, as Jaxon follows closely behind.
“I want a drink first,” I blurt out, well aware that I sound like a bratty toddler who didn’t get her juice.
My father and Jaxon turn around in unison, and my dad sighs. I’m not winning any points with him tonight, but there’s no way I’m having dinner with my abusive piece-of-shit ex without alcohol.
“Maeve, can you make Emory a gin and tonic and bring it to the table, please?”
Maeve nods her assent and walks over to the bar cart to begin working on my drink.
We all go into the dining room, and once again the table is already set up to fuck me over. There is one place setting in front of my dad’s chair and two on the other side where Nate and I usually sit. There’s no way out of this without looking like a lunatic or making my dad even more aggravated with me. I take the seat directly across from my father, and Jaxon sits next to me. Maeve places my drink in front of me, and I take a long gulp, the ice clinking against my teeth as I revel in the slight burn of the alcohol sliding down my throat.
Twenty minutes.
I’m giving it twenty minutes, and then I’m faking a migraine.
Fuck if I’m going to sit here any longer than that and pretend the man sitting next to me didn’t torture me for years.
Maeve comes in and places salads in front of the three of us. I try to eat, but I can barely swallow. This is what his threat was about. I didn’t give him what he wants, so now he’s going through my fucking family to get to me. He’s angry that I didn’t answer his texts. He never liked being ignored. It was the number one reason we fought. If I didn’t answer a call or a text within five minutes, he would punish me. Is that why he’s here now, to punish me? But what can he do? Fuck another girl in front of me? I’d put on mood music and wish them well. Embarrass me in front of his friends? Be my guest. Belittle me? Berate me? No, he has something else up his sleeve. I can feel it.
Maeve clears our salads and puts clean plates in front of us. Then, she brings out family-style dishes of food. I’m about to feign my headache when my dad’s phone buzzes. He checks it and lets out a string of curses.
“Something came up at work. I have to deal with this. Please, start without me,” he says, motioning to the food on the table. “I’ll be back in a few.” He throws his napkin down on the table and stands up, holding his phone to his ear.
No. Don’t leave me here with him .
I almost scream out the words whirling in my head as I see my father disappear around the corner. But it’s no use. He’s gone. I need to get out of here. Jaxon can make something up when my dad gets back. Or not. I don’t really give a shit.
I try to stand, but a sudden pressure on my leg holds me back. “You don't want to do that, Emory,” Jaxon whispers in my ear, his voice dripping with venom, making my skin crawl. “We have our own business to discuss.”
“I have nothing to say to you,” I choke out.
A bitter laugh spills from his lips. “Do you know why I chose you?” I remain silent, but he continues. “You’re weak, and I knew it the first time I saw you in class. You were so delicate and vulnerable. Inexperienced. Smart when it came to school, but completely clueless about anything else. Plus, you came from a wealthy family. And your tits weren’t bad either.” I swallow hard, feeling more disgusted with every word that falls out of his mouth.
“Anyway, it was perfect,” he continues. “I had to marry eventually, per my father's orders. Why not start molding the perfect, obedient trophy wife while in college? So that’s what I did. I molded you, tested you, punished you when you needed it. I broke you in. I had it all figured out. I made you think I was going to let you take that nursing job in California. But no, that wouldn’t do. Trophy wives don’t work. You were going to stay home and plan parties. Host dinners. Push out a few babies. Then I realized something that night.” He forces his pointer finger under my chin, tipping it up, and I shudder at his touch. “No matter how many times I cheated on you, or punished you, or made you cry—you never fucking learned. You kept ignoring my calls and texts. Putting me second to school and your future career and that cunt roommate of yours. So I left. I needed to find a real trophy wife. One who didn’t have that irritating little rebellious streak you did.”
He still has his finger wedged under my chin, and I move my head to the side to escape his hold. “Fuck you,” I spit out, trying to stand again, but he grabs my arm and twists with a firm grip, not enough to leave a mark but enough to make it clear he means business. I shake him off me and slam back down onto my chair.
“I wasn’t finished, Emory. You see, I never found my trophy wife in California. They were all a little too submissive. Too boring. It took me years, but I finally realized I missed the little bit of fight you had in you. Now it’s no longer a suggestion according to my father. It’s a demand.”
“What are you saying? You want me back?” I bark. “That’s never going to happen.”
“I don’t want anything, Emory. I get things.”
“Not this time. You will never get me again.”
I stand up and he lets me go this time. I start to stomp out of the dining room, but I hear him call me back in a creepy-as-fuck singsong voice.
“Oh, Emory.”
I rear back at him, fire in my eyes.
“Does your father know that you’re fucking that trashy neighbor of yours? How about your brother?”
“W-what? How…”
“You think just because I left, I haven’t been watching your every move? Took you a while to get over me, I’ll give you that. You wouldn’t let anyone touch you for years. Until none other than Lucas Collins comes waltzing in. One of Nate’s best friends, no? Wonder what Nate would think about Luke fucking his little sister. It would also be a shame for something to happen to that little construction business he’s trying to keep afloat. So sad about his father. Mental illness can be hard for family members to accept,” he says with mock concern.
My blood is boiling. He’s been keeping tabs on me. He knows about Luke. He used my fucking father to get to me.
“Are—are you threatening him?” I hate that I can’t help the shaking of my voice.
He chuckles. “Of course not. As I said, I don’t want. I don’t threaten. I just get.”
I know I don’t want to know the answer to this question. Mostly, because I already know it, but he’s threatening Luke. His family business. His dad. I can’t let him get caught up in this. This is my battle.
“What then? What will you get?” I shout as I throw my hands up.
“You, of course, but you already knew that. Unblock my number and call me when you want to go over the specifics. It’s the first one I texted you from,” he says. “And tell your father thank you for having me. Dinner was delicious.” He places his napkin down gingerly and stands up before walking out of the room.
I look down at all the uneaten food still sitting on the table where Maeve left it. It’s been way longer than ten minutes, and my dad hasn’t come back. I start dishing food onto both of our plates, moving it around and eating nibbles from each plate to make it look like we both attempted to eat dinner. I’m not sure why I do it. I just don’t have it in me to explain anything to my dad. I call for Maeve and ask her to let my dad know that Jaxon got called away and that I’m tired and going to head home. She nods her head and gets to work clearing the table.
As I head out to my car, all the emotions from the past hour catch up to me at once. The nausea I've been holding back all night finally hits me, and I run to a bush by the house and heave into it, spilling everything I just ate and drank. Tears dot my cheeks as I wipe my mouth and open the door to my car. This day went from one of the best I’ve had in years to one of the worst in a matter of minutes.
On the drive home, the reality of Jaxon’s words hit me like a head-on collision.
Why not start molding the perfect, obedient trophy wife while in college?
I broke you in.
I missed the little bit of fight you had in you.
He doesn’t want to punish me. He wants to tie me to him forever. He wants to marry me.