Chapter 12 #2
His brows flickered at the sight of her. One dip of his chin, a silent hello, then he moved to the counter. He wasn’t going to come over and say hello.
She wasn’t sure if she felt relieved or sad about that.
She shouldn’t be surprised. They’d barely spoken in the last week. But he’d always been there, on site, watching her scenes.
Faye leaned in again and whispered, “I think he likes you.”
Emily almost laughed. Faye didn’t know their history. She didn’t know that Emily had been willing to sign away a life of fame and fortune for him.
“But Mama don’t like him,” Preston sang under his breath.
Emily glanced toward her mother, and yep, the woman was no longer charming the table. Instead, she was staring—basically glaring—at Ryan.
Jesus Christ.
Emily looked away and started pulling at the napkin again. She shouldn’t go over there. She absolutely should not go speak to him. Because what was the point? In a couple months, she’d leave. He’d still be here. She’d be setting herself up for more pain.
Her mother turned back to the table, and everyone returned to talking about the last few days’ shoots. Someone even threw in a joke about Preston’s drunken episode last week, something he now agreed had to be a result of the drugs he’d smoked that night.
But Emily couldn’t focus on any of that. Because she could feel his gaze on her. She’d always been able to feel his gaze.
She glanced over her shoulder, and his dark eyes burned into her.
Quickly, she looked away again.
She was doing a really great job of keeping her ass in her seat, right up until Ryan stepped out of the restaurant, bag of food in hand. Then it was like her body had a mind of its own. She rose, mumbling something about being back soon before rushing outside.
“Wait,” she called, as soon as she stepped onto the sidewalk.
He turned, brows flickering. “Hey. It’s cold out here and about to rain. You should go back inside.”
She should. She didn’t. “I know this is going to sound really conceited, but you have to stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“You know what.”
He lifted a brow, almost seeming amused. “I can’t look at you now?”
“You can look at me like you look at Faye. Like you look at Preston.”
He laughed, but the sound was humorless. “That’s never gonna happen.”
An unexpected anger began to burn in her chest. “So you’re saying no?”
“I’m saying no.”
“Argh. You’re an idiot, you know that?”
“Yeah, I know that.”
She paused. She hadn’t expected him to agree. “You should have fought for me.”
“I know that too.” He looked through the restaurant glass like he wasn’t really seeing. “That day…I was so fucking exhausted. And the op we’d just returned from…it was bad. We almost died, Emi.”
She flinched. “What?”
“I’m not saying that for sympathy. I just need you to know that when I was standing in your apartment, I’d just gotten back from hell on earth.
And I was looking at the most beautiful, talented woman, the only woman I’d ever loved, and she was going to give up her dream for me, someone who nearly hadn’t come home. ”
Tears suddenly burned her eyes. She wanted to blink them away but couldn’t. She felt frozen.
He reached down and cupped her cheek, and the warmth, God, the warmth. “It wasn’t my day. The lack of sleep. The call from your mother—”
She flinched a second time. “The call from my mother?”
“Yeah. She was the one who told me you turned down the part. She said I was taking away your future. That if I really loved you, I’d let you go.”
All the air left Emily’s lungs, and she couldn’t for the life of her pull in another breath.
Deep down, she’d always known it was her mother who’d told him. Because how else would he have found out? But she hadn’t thought her mother would go so far as to tell him to break up with her.
The door opened behind her, then her mother’s shrill voice sounded. “Ryan, good to see you.”
His hand dropped and he stepped back. “I was just leaving.”
“That’s probably for the best.”
He shook his head, muttering something under his breath before walking away.
“That boy,” her mother scolded. “He’s like a cold you can’t get rid of. I don’t know why—”
“Did you tell him to break up with me?”
Her mother’s brows shot up. “What?”
“The day he got back from his mission. Did you call him and tell him about the part I turned down, then encourage him to break up with me?”
Say no. Tell me there’s some scrap of goodness in you.
“Well, I mean, I called him. I can’t remember exactly what I said. It was a long time ago, Emily.”
Lies. So many lies. Did the woman ever stop? “You told him to leave me.” There was a level of hysteria in her voice, but she couldn’t tame it. “You knew I loved him. You knew he was my whole world. Yet you called and told him that if he loved me, he’d let me go.”
“Emily. Keep your voice down.”
“No. Every time I think you can’t surprise me anymore, you do. I’m done letting you tell me what to do and dictating my life. I’m done.”
“I’m your mother—”
“No. You haven’t been my mother for a long time. You’re just my manager. But now you’re not even that.”
“What?”
“You’re fired.”
Emily strode down the street, not caring that rain hit her shoulders the minute she cleared the restaurant’s awning. Not caring that her mother was now shouting her name, screaming at her to come back.
Her steps didn’t slow or falter. She just walked, not even sure where she was going or what she was doing.
She walked for so long that her knee began to ache and a limp formed in her step. The rain grew heavier and water soaked through her clothes. There was even a small tremble in her limbs from the cold.
But she didn’t stop. Not until she reached those familiar Indian paintbrushes.
She approached the large wooden door and hit the doorbell. Then she waited for him.