Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
Alex
“Emma!” I call out after hauling in the last load of groceries. She doesn’t answer, so I start unloading, putting the produce and meat in the fridge. Restocking both our favorites, the Red Vines, in the pantry, I smile because she’s back.
“Em!” I call out again, refilling the egg container.
“Delta!” I call, but there’s nothing that answers me back.
I slip out my phone, and press her name, then wait.
Her phone rings in the great room, and I wander over to where she’d been sitting, flipping the blanket back to see “Table 19” incoming call on her screen.
Table 19?
“Emma!” I call again, but it’s silent.
I walk out to the back deck and call for them, but there’s still no reply. Don’t love that she left without her phone even if it was just to walk Delta.
Heading back inside, I pull out the chicken breasts for dinner to start marinating while I wait. But 30 minutes later, I’m still waiting.
I walk out the front door, this time to look around. Calling out, to no response.
I hate this. I’m on the verge of leaving to walk the trails in search when Delta’s bark draws my attention up to Emma, who looks like she’s been crying.
“What’s wrong?” I jog to her, taking her face in my hands, checking to see if she’s hurt, but she kind of pushes my hands away. And there’s that gut feeling telling me something’s wrong. “Tell me, please?” I plead with her because my chest aches to see her like this.
“You brought me here to hurt her, didn’t you? At least in the first place, that’s why you needed a wife, right?”
I take a step back at her words. The short answer is yes.
So I tell her the truth. “Yes.”
“I figured as much…” She lets out a shaky sigh. “I had no clue she was your sister’s best friend. No wonder she hates me.” She sniffles.
“Did Brit say something?” I ask, wondering how she knew.
“You know, I saw her that night at Coltons. While you slept in my room. Blanks took me to get food, and she was there.” My hackles rise; not sure where this would go.
“Jesus, she was the prettiest person in the whole fucking place. And she was dying, Alex. For you. She was a dead woman walking. And I had no clue it was her. She called me Cinderella, you know?” She laughs through the tears. Not a happy laugh.
“I sort of thought she was deranged, but she was just in love with you, which maybe, that’s the greatest sickness of all.” Ouch.
“What are you talking about, Em?” Hate every second of this.
“Do you really think you could be happy with second best?” She asks, and the flames in my chest erupt.
“Is that what you think?” I ask.
She motions up and down her body, sniffles, and says, “I mean, look at me. I’m about to be 27 years old, and I have nothing to show for it. And I’m damaged goods. I wore a dress from the thrift store to our wedding. It was 29 dollars, Alex!”
“You are not second best.” I grind out my words. “Does what I said to you this morning mean nothing to you?”
“I just don’t know if I can believe it…” she says back quietly, eviscerating me.
“When I’m with you, Emma, I don’t say a single thing I don’t mean.
I always tell you the truth, even to my own detriment.
Even when it hurts, I tell you the truth.
I don’t just love you, Emma; I’m in love with you.
And I didn’t even want to be! But how the fuck was I supposed to not fall in love with you? Huh?”
Her eyes go wide at my confession, but I keep going.
“I slept in your bed with the dog for three months. That’s how much I missed you.
Fuck, when I got Delta, the first thing I thought was: Emma would love him.
I’m always thinking about you. I’m thinking about you first, not second.
When I wake up, first thing, I wonder what you’re doing.
I wonder if you’re happy. I wonder if I could make you happy. ”
“And today, I was thinking how fucking proud I am that you’re mine. And that you gave me something, and I have nothing to give back to you. Except to tell you I love you.”
“Fuck! And then I think about your family, and I want to burn the world down. For you!” She listens, just taking a large gulp.
“I don’t have to do anything, Emma. But I choose you. This is all a choice, you know. You could leave at any time. I could go too. You told me to tell you if I ever stopped wanting this, and have I told you that?”
Her answer is hesitant, “No.”
“Give it a chance, Em. Please.” I grab her face in my hands, clearing the tears where I can.
“Please, Alex, just please promise the second you don’t want this anymore, you’ll tell me? I can’t live with a question hanging over me.”
“I promise,” I mean it. If that’s her one ask, I can respect that. She nods and wipes the rest of the tears away.
“Okay.” She starts to walk around me, but I grab her hand and stop her.
“It goes both ways, Em. You have to promise me because you could stop wanting this too.”
“I promise,” she says.
I cook dinner so she can finish reading, then bring a plate to her in the living room.
“Thanks,” she gives me a tired smile to go with it.
I go back to the table to give her space, but she joins me a minute later.
“My eyes are gonna start bleeding. I need a break.” I just nod. “I’m sorry about earlier,” she says, not looking me in the eyes.
“Nothing to be sorry for,” I lean over, putting a hand on her thigh.
We go back to eating silently until she asks, “So how long were…you and her together?” I have to clear my throat to force the food down.
“Not very long.”
“Hmm,” she hums. “Are you going?” The tightening in my stomach has me sitting up straighter.
“What do you mean?”
“Their wedding, are you planning to go?”
“Probably not.”
“Okay,” she leaves it at that. I hope.
It’s a few more minutes of silence when I remember and ask, “Why am I saved as Table 19 in your phone?” She sort of smirks.
“That’s what table you were sitting at at the diner that night.” Cute. I give her a warm smile that she gives right back. And then we’re back to normal. Our normal.
She tells me about the art history book she’s reading. I tell her about driving past the pumpkin patches when I got groceries. And then she asks what I’m doing tonight.
“I don’t know. If you’re going to study, I’ll probably just go downstairs.”
“No, let’s hang out.” This would be new territory. It wasn’t that we didn’t hang out before; it was just always around dinner, and afterward, she would go her way. I would go mine, but we’d meet back for bed.
“I wanna watch something, go brain dead, and veg,” she says, stretching her arms overhead, then yawning.
“What are we watching?” I ask, picking up my plate and hers to put in the dishwasher. She follows behind me, grabbing water bottles for both of us from the fridge.
“Dealer’s choice,” she winks, slipping into the pantry, then squealing when she finds the packs of Red Vines.
Holding up a pack, she says, “I love you.” I shake my head and laugh.
She grabs the goods and heads for the great room while I clear the rest of dinner, start the dishes, and hit the lights.
She’s back to her corner of the sofa, and I take the seat beside her. Then, without much thought, my arm is around her, and she’s cuddling into my side. It’s just easy with her.
After the second episode of Alone, she tells me, “This was basically my dream, growing up. I wanted to just get lost in the woods and build a little shelter. In my mind, it was cozy, but watching this…” She shudders. “I don’t think I could stomach the parasites.”
I pull her in tighter, feeling warm that she shared something from her childhood with me.
“I had similar dreams, to be honest.” Probably driven by a need to feel safe and free, something neither of us had.
She turns to look at me, running a hand up into my hair, and I tell her, “Look at you now, baby. You have your cozy house in the woods.” Her nose scrunches, and she sort of shrug-nods.
We go back to watching the show until she asks quietly, “Did you build this house for her?” I shake my head.
“I built it for me,” she’s content with that answer, nodding. It’s not a lie. I built it for the family and life I wanted. What that looks like has changed, but this house was built for us.
“I like talking to you, Alex.”
“I like talking to you too, Em,” she yawns, stretches out her legs, and cozies back in. She’s asleep five minutes later.
Emma
“Let’s go for a walk.” My eyes flutter once. Sleep. More. “We can make the sunrise, come on.” And then the covers are pulled away from me, and I’m freezing.
I gasp at the cold air while he hovers over me, looking at my naked body like I’m Botticelli’s Venus.
“Alex!” I scold him.
“Emma!” He mocks me right back.
Sitting up slowly, I say, “Fine, get off me, and I’ll get up.” He gives me a quick peck, then climbs off the bed.
I drag ass right behind him.
I can’t even remember going to bed last night. The last thing that comes to mind is cuddling on the couch. Yesterday had been a long day, though. Really long.
“Did you put me to bed?” I ask as we stand in opposite closets and get dressed. It still feels weird for me to use her space, but going downstairs every time I need a fresh pair of underwear doesn’t make sense.
“Yup,” he says, sliding a belt into the loops of his jeans. His chest is still bare, and I have to swallow. Damnit. I had plans for him last night.
My inner thighs throb, not from soreness but with desire.
But then I yawn. My sleep schedule had finally adjusted to normalcy, and here I am at the ass crack of dawn, going for a quick hike. Even though I feel deathly tired, I’m thrilled. I missed this. These were some of the best parts of my day: walking with him to the lake.
I throw on a thermal and fleece-lined leggings, then grab a beanie and some thick socks. During the day, Spearhead would warm to 50 degrees or so, but in the morning, it’s still slightly below freezing.
Delta dances around Alex’s feet with excitement.
“We’re going, bud,” he says to the pup.