Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
BILLIE
When I suggested steak, I figured Emmett would head for a LongHorn or Black Angus Steakhouse.
But after everything came back fine at the hospital, that’s not where we ended up.
“Is it cooked well enough for you?” Emmett points his fork at my plate, bringing my attention back to the table and away from our stunning surroundings.
The Skillet is one of the nicest steakhouses in the whole of Manhattan, the place where my parents celebrated their fifteenth wedding anniversary—and Dad still jokes about repaying the loan to cover the bill.
It’s only late lunchtime, but the restaurant windows are covered, creating a private and romantic atmosphere.
Emmett’s handsome face glows in the light cast from the candle in the center of our table.
“This steak is the best I’ve ever had,” I say around a mouthful, and it truly is. I can’t remember the last time I ate this well or even finished a meal.
Emmett sets his fork down and leans forward, bracing his elbows on the table before folding his hands under his chin. He observes me carefully as I pick up a fry and dip it in steak sauce. He looks more relaxed than he has the past couple of times I’ve seen him.
“You didn’t need to go all out, you know? I was only joking when I said the whole nine yards.”
“This is the only place I’ll eat steak.”
I roll my eyes at him in jest. “You have more money than sense.”
He just smirks, picking up his knife and fork and cutting into his steak. “I know the owners. Sometimes, the guys come here after games.”
It’s easy to forget that Emmett is a huge NHL player whose face is famous across Brooklyn.
To me, he’s just my dad’s best friend and someone I’ve known most of my life.
I might tease him about money and being big time, although his attitude couldn’t be further from that.
Emmett has always been a humble guy with a big heart, and the way he comforted me today was evidence that not much had changed over the past three years.
“Do you still talk to Maria, or has all contact been cut?”
He stiffens at my question, and I instantly regret asking it. It’s not really my place to.
“Sorry.” I grimace. “I shouldn’t be nosy.”
Pulling off his glasses, he sets them on the table and massages the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes as he does it.
“I only mentioned her in case you wanted to talk about it,” I offer. “I know she meant a lot to you, and you probably miss her.”
Something in Emmett’s expression reveals that my assumption might not be completely accurate.
I knew very little about their marriage other than my memories of Maria always vying for control over every conversation.
But that Christmas before I left for college showed a different side of her.
I felt the animosity grow between them. The clipped way she spoke to him when he and I were setting the dinner table.
And then they were barely out of our front door before she was waving her arms in his face as they walked down our driveway, in the middle of a fight.
Spying on them through the blinds was probably a bit intrusive, but like I just admitted to Emmett, I’m nosy.
“I don’t talk much about Maria to anyone, and I haven’t spoken to her in weeks. I guess there isn’t much to say.”
I nod once and snag a green bean from my plate. It’s cooked perfectly.
“I get that,” I reply, swallowing down a mouthful. “It’s the same way with Tucker. Even though we are going to have a baby together.”
Emmett presses his full lips into a thin line, sitting back in his chair as he thinks over my statement. He folds his corded arms across his chest, the sleeves on his gray henley pushed up to the elbows.
I drop my eyes to my plate, eager not to be caught in the act of checking him out.
“Maybe I’m overstepping here, Bill. But surely, new parents—whether they’re still together or not—need to be in contact.”
He isn’t overstepping; he’s absolutely right.
I pick up my water glass and bring it to my lips, eyes back on his when I say, “Open communication only works if both parties are willing to cooperate.”
Irritation pulls Emmett’s brows together. “Tucker won’t even speak with you?”
“Barely. I had a delightful phone call with him this morning, where he made it pretty clear that he didn’t care about me or the baby. I didn’t bother to text him and let him know that everything was normal, only my parents.”
He shifts in his chair, not immediately responding. When he picks up his soda and takes a large pull, I watch the tendons in his jaw work. He’s mad on my behalf, although he doesn’t need to be. I can look after myself just fine.
“I’m sorry, Billie,” is all he says as he sets the glass back down on the table and asks a server for another bottle of still water.
Emmett moves and speaks with such confidence. He’s all man but gracious in how he carries himself, and I conclude that it only adds to my attraction. No one can ever know that I have the hots for him. Emmett discovering my crush would be enough to bury me alive with embarrassment.
It would also end the most unlikely of friendships. Who knew that a thirty-five-year-old pro hockey player would be one of the best and most valuable people in my life right now?
I opt to change course, redirecting the conversation away from my ex-boyfriend. “Thanks for giving me a ride to the hospital.”
When the server sets a fresh bottle of water down, Emmett asks him to hold off pouring and does it himself, twisting the metal cap and refilling my glass before his own.
“He’s a fucking prick.”
The way he bites out his words catches me off guard. I’ve never witnessed Emmett lose his temper, although he’s right on the edge, and I know it.
“Scott told me that he was cheating on you, and that’s why you came home.”
I chug a large mouthful of water and swallow it quickly. A huge part of me wants to tell him to leave it.
But my subconscious wills the smaller, more open part of me to speak, and when I do, a cathartic feeling inflates my lungs.
“At first, I gave him the benefit of the doubt. It was all rumors and my suspicions and nothing solid. I didn’t want to accuse him of something he hadn’t done and believe the bitches on campus over the trust I originally placed in him. That didn’t seem fair.”
Emmett cocks his head to one side, studying me intently. “How old are you again?”
“Twenty-one. Why?”
He leans forward and steals a fry from my plate, shrugging as he eats it. “That isn’t an attitude typical of a twenty-one-year-old. I wouldn’t have seen it like that when I was your age.”
Seizing the opportunity to be cocky and act exactly my age, I reach across the table and steal a piece of asparagus from his plate, smiling as I bite the end.
“I guess I’m not like most twenty-one-year-olds.”
Emmett’s steely-gray eyes drop to my mouth, a pink stain creeping across his high cheekbones. Like he’s trying to gather himself, he swipes his glasses from the table and sets them back on his face.
A heavy awkwardness falls between us. We’ve always laughed and joked around, but I’ve never sensed a shift like the one taking hold in this room.
“I’m just saying that Tucker is a dick, is all,” Emmett voices, his tone professional.
I nod and try to keep the conversation light, dropping the asparagus stalk to my plate. “That he is. Trouble is, like my mom said, I can’t control his actions or force him to step up and be a dad. All I can do is try and get through these next few months and then figure out finding a job.”
Emmett balks at me. “You’re not going back to college?”
I want to laugh out loud at the thought.
“Tune in to reality, Emmett.” I circle my huge stomach and then point at my face.
“As if I can finish my political science degree and then move on to law school while single-handedly raising a child. The only way I could do that would be with a nanny. An expensive nanny.”
“What about your mom?” he suggests. “You could transfer to a local college, and she could help. I know she’d want to.”
“And quit her full-time job as a bank teller?” I retort. “I can just see it now …” My voice turns sarcastic as I mimic her manager. “Sure, sure, Freya. You bring the screaming baby into work with you, and we’ll turn the place into a day care.”
Emmett narrows his eyes at me, fighting not to laugh at my wicked sense of humor. “I take back what I said. You make the perfect twenty-one-year-old.”
I point at his iPhone set on the table, the model being at least three years out of date. “The same could be said for you. Only older people aren’t bothered about the latest technology.”
His lips tip into a smile, and as quickly as the atmosphere turned awkward, normal service between us resumes. A rumble of laughter echoes in Emmett’s chest as he gazes down at his phone.
“I guess I should update the phone no?”
I shrug. “I was only messing with you. I couldn’t give a shit about technology, so long as it works. I’m loving the admission that you’re old though.”
“Brat.”
I point to my face. “Me?”
Emmett’s eyes narrow further. “You know you are, Billie.”