Chapter Eight
Forty-five minutes later, showered and wearing a full-length dress that Dad would approve of, I entered the dining room.
Emma and Dad were already tucking into dinner.
Emma looked up from her plate to send me a heart-warming smile, her cheeks flushing beneath her makeup and I knew her thoughts were on the events of the afternoon, just as mine were.
“Good evening,” I said, returning her smile with surprising ease considering Dad’s brooding presence at the head of the table.
“So you finally decided to join us?” he snapped, his glowering gaze burning into me as I took up the empty seat opposite Emma.
I forced myself to look right at him, my smile still fixed to my face. “I’m sor—”
“Save it!” he said, putting an end to my apology. Not that it really mattered; I didn’t mean it anyway. “If it wasn’t for my intrigue at our conversation over Daniel earlier I’d send you elsewhere to eat.”
Shit! I had totally forgotten about my suggestive words regarding Daniel. I really didn’t want to have that talk now, especially in front of Emma.
“Sorry, Daddy,” I tried again, doing my best to look contrite.
“Well, I assume you must have good reason?” he said, taking up his cutlery, his focus returning to the food before him.
The best, I thought, as an image of Emma shattering above me filled my mind and sent my cheeks flaming. I needed to get a grip and clawing onto the first excuse I could think of, said, “I had a phone call.”
His eyes flicked back to mine, their depths glittering with ignited excitement, his forked food pausing mid-air. “Daniel, perhaps?”
“Yes,” I blurted before I could think better of it, desperation to be out of his bad books winning out.
“Well, I’ll be damned!” he smiled. “I just knew he’d take a liking to you” — his attention turned to Emma — “it’s like I said, keeping her around really does have its benefits.”
His heartless words left his mouth so easily, and as soon as they were out his eyes returned to his plate, his mind obviously thinking on his grand master plan.
He wasn’t even waiting on Emma for a response.
And it certainly didn’t warrant one from me.
I eyed her over the table, trying to gauge her reaction.
I didn’t need to try hard. Her eyes glistened in the light as they held my gaze, the color in her cheeks now non-existent.
The strong urge to cover her hand with my own, to reassure her that she needn’t be upset on my behalf, forced me to look away and I tried to turn my attention to eating. Yet I could sense she still watched me, her body motionless, her knuckles white around the stem of her wine glass.
I chanced a glance, my gaze imploring as I looked from her face to her food in a silent prompt for her to eat and to drop whatever thought was running through her mind.
Slowly, she brought the wine glass to her lips and took a contemplative sip, her gaze still level with mine.
But as she returned the drink to the table, her color heightened anew, a surprising warmth filling her features as she turned to look at my stepfather.
“Why, yes, darling, I do believe you are incredibly lucky to have someone as special as her around.”
The open adoration in her tone had my heart thudding in my chest, and a heat spreading in my lower belly. Did she not realize how she sounded?
Her obvious affection hadn’t gone unnoticed by my stepfather either, his eyes narrowing on his fiancée. “So you’ve noticed her qualities too?”
My eyes shot to hers once more, the warning in them clear: Don’t go there! Even just a hint and it’s game over. There was no telling what he would do...
“Oh, yes, I can see exactly why you would keep her around.”
I couldn’t breathe, fear and some unidentifiable emotion rendering me immobile. I fixed my gaze on my plate, my hands working the cutlery unseeingly over the food.
Please drop this ... please drop this ... please drop this!
I could feel Dad’s gaze flicking between us, could almost hear the cogs in his brain working overtime as my own guilty conscience had him putting two and two together.
I needed to distract him. I needed to get the focus off me ... off us! I was angry at Emma for her open appreciation, it was brazen and downright dangerous. But my own foolish ego couldn’t help feeling boosted. My heart swelling at her defense of me.
Thankful for my well-rehearsed ability to talk bullshit where my stepfather was concerned, I looked across at him and delivered the perfect line, “Yes, well, believe me, it cuts both ways.” I placed my hand on his forearm for added effect. “I am, after all, incredibly lucky to be here.”
“Too right,” came my father’s righteous response, his arm shrugging off my contact as he took up his own drink. “And now you are about to make that decision really pay off, my girl! Daniel’s father has already been in touch this morning to request we get together a week on Saturday.”
Emma’s eyes darted across at him. “Saturday?”
“Yes,” he said, taking an appreciative swig of wine, unaware that his words had been less than favorably received. “I believe the man is very much taken with how we do things around here and is after a repeat affair.”
A repeat affair? Just how much of a repeat?
A chill ran through me as I contemplated it.
As much as the scene had enthralled me, as much as Daniel had filled a void, it was another thing entirely to go through it again.
Not now. Not with all that I had learned that day, all the questions that remained unanswered and the undeniable attraction between Emma and I.
My eyes locked with hers across the table, the idea of seeing her with another twisting my stomach and leaving me cold.
She looked far from happy at the prospect too. Was she thinking the same?
“Of course, I have accepted on our behalf,” he continued.
“You have?” Emma said quietly, her eyes remaining level with mine.
“Absolutely! I’m not hanging around to give him chance to cool off,” he said. “Roger has suggested we spend the weekend at their lodge in the lakes. He says it’s a remote, quiet area, perfect for some more private gatherings...”
His voice carried on; he was oblivious to the tension in the air, of the unsaid words passing between Emma and I. A week on Saturday, that was no time in the future. There were things I needed to get straight in my head, things that I needed to understand.
“...so what do you think?”
My stepfather turned to me, the expectant expression on his face making it clear that he was waiting on me to respond. Only one problem — I had no idea to what he was referring, not specifically at any rate and I braced myself as I posed the ignorant question, “About what?”
“Christ, Abi!”
His exclamation made me jump, and Emma visibly winced.
“Can’t you stay focused for more than a second?
” he admonished, his wine glass hitting the table with a resounding clunk, the red liquid sloshing to soil the crisp, white tablecloth beneath.
I watched the stain seep outward, its spreading mass a fascinating reflection of my growing internal guilt and humility.
“I was talking about Daniel’s feelings toward you, you must have an idea as to whether he is interested?
I assume he is, considering he spent the night in your room? ”
Emma coughed in obvious surprise and I felt my cheeks burn.
It hadn’t occurred to me that this would be news to her.
The realization that it was and the damning effect it would have on her opinion of me had my ears ringing.
I didn’t want her to think less of me. And I certainly didn’t want her discovering like this.
There was nothing I could say, especially in front of my stepfather, that would make the news any easier to bear.
But if I was being honest with myself, what could I possibly have to say that would get me out of this.
Not when, for all my father’s digging, it was me that had jumped right in and allowed things to go as far as they had.
“Well, yeah ... sure, I think he likes me,” I fumbled over the words and shifted uncomfortably in my seat. I watched Emma intently, desperate to catch her eye once more, but she wouldn’t even look at me now, her eyes skirting anywhere but, a bad sign of her changing opinion, of that I was certain.
“Good, good,” he nodded. “And what do you say, Emma? They make a great couple, don’t they?”
Under the watchful gaze of my stepfather, Emma finally looked to me and raised her glass to her cherry red lips.
As she tilted it to take a sip, she held my eyes hostage, her gaze steady and assessing.
I couldn’t breathe for fear of what she would say, of the potential disdain I would hear in her voice. ..
And then she blinked, her focus turning to my stepfather, a small smile touching her lips as she spoke, “Aye, they most definitely do darling.”
Her words and the silky smooth tone in which she uttered them sent a chill running through me.
Did she think me a whore now? A girl that would do anything for an easy life? Had she lost all respect for me? And could I really blame her if she had?
But hang on, it wasn’t like she faired any better! Not when she was marrying a man like him. And if we were being honest, wasn’t it her that had seduced me? I could feel the anger bubbling in my belly as I tried to focus on my stepfather’s continued prattle.
“Yes, I believe his father is very happy,” he was saying, once more wrapped up in his own thoughts and self-congratulation.
“The night’s events must have really got him hooked, hence his eagerness to get together so soon.
That being said” — he sent Emma a look — “some of us could have performed a little better.”
Emma gave a sharp intake of breath. And I realized with horror that he was referring to her stamina, or his perceived lack thereof.
What a prick!
I grabbed the bottle and poured myself some wine, desperate to pretend I was unaware of the meaning behind his words and in dire need of the alcohol to douse the anger simmering too close to the surface.
The awkward silence that descended would have had any normal person on edge.
Dad, however, was utterly oblivious. Or if he was aware, he just didn’t care.
Yes, didn’t care, that was much more likely.
A gentle rap on the door filled the room and both Emma and I started.
“Lord, you’re both jumpy tonight,” he remarked derisively, his attention turning to the doorway. “Come!”
Tom, one of Dad’s burly “thugs”, as I nicknamed them, entered. He was broad-shouldered and six foot four, at least; a terrifying presence of a man, but he appeared immediately humble as he nodded his respect and approached.
Ducking his head, he spoke discretely in my stepfather’s ear, his voice low enough to prevent us overhearing what was being said. With a growing sense of unease, I watched as Dad’s eyes flitted between us, his expression unreadable.
Seconds ticked by and yet it felt like minutes. Eventually, he straightened and my stepfather pushed his seat back, to rise with him.
“If you’ll excuse me, there is something I need to tend to,” he said, tossing his napkin to the table.
“But you’re not finished.”
I could hear the elevation to Emma’s tone, could sense her rising panic like my own.
“I can cope without the extra baggage” — he reached out to take hold of Emma’s chin, tilting her face up to him and turning it appraisingly side to side as though he were evaluating a piece of livestock — “and let’s be honest dear, you should probably stop eating soon too.
From what I hear, your body fat percentage is teetering into the unacceptable. ”
Emma’s composure blew me away; she didn’t even flinch at his words. She simply lowered her gaze and nodded into his hold, her hands placing her cutlery together on her plate.
“Good girl,” he said, releasing her chin and brushing his thumb across her lips, the only sign of affection in his otherwise twisted farewell before he walked away.
I stared after his vacating form in amazement.
How could he continue to surprise me with his malice?
Was I really so naive as to think him redeemable on any level these days?
And what of the woman in front of me? Who was she really?
Underneath it all? Could she really possess a good streak if she was happy to be married to that?
But, frankly, who was I to judge? It wasn’t like I had been running for the hills or like I was an innocent bystander in recent events.
My gaze succumbed to the magnetic pull of the womanly perfection before me and I drank her in anew.
Each time our eyes connected, my body reacted, its inability to be doused by the risk of discovery was unsettling and downright terrifying in itself.
There was so much I wanted to say to her, I just didn’t know where to begin.
I wanted to understand her, get to the bottom of why she was here, why she would be with a man like him, why she would be interested in me, of all people?
I wanted to explain my own actions, what had happened with Daniel, why it had happened.
It was all there, racing away in my mind and I started to speak. “Emma—”
She raised her palm to silence me, tears filling her eyes and crushing me.
“If you’ll excuse me, Abi, I am quite tired...”
“P-p-please,” I tried, my voice breaking. “We should talk.”
“I think we have done enough today,” she said, pushing herself up from the table and turning to leave.
“Please, Emma...” I could hear the desperation in my voice, but I just didn’t get it. How come she could be so composed with him and the complete opposite with me, surely she at least owed me some of her time. “We really need to talk, to understand one...”
She looked back at me over her shoulder, her pained expression bringing an end to my words. “Not tonight,” she bit out and then she turned and walked away.
I wasn’t even worthy of a backward glance.
I felt sick and helpless. In forty-eight hours, my life as I knew it had been tipped on its head and I could do nothing to correct it, nothing to get it back to the way it was before ... before I had met her...
And would I really want to? Hadn’t I just been going through the motions of life before in blissful ignorance: doing my stepfather’s bidding, fooling around with the odd guy, finding solace with a therapist whose intentions were now questionable at best.
No, I absolutely would not want to go back.
But where did that leave me? And what would I do if Dad were to find out? What if he already had?
The uneasy feeling that Tom had brought him news of us still gnawed at me, but I had to find time to be alone with her, we had to talk. There was something special between us, there just had to be.