Episode 206
IF I CAN’T HAVE YOU
Emily
I step closer to River.
Brett looks to Sienna and then to Jake, his expression forlorn.
But I focus on River.
He stands there like the chaos isn’t quite reaching him. As if he’s separate, untouchable.
The breeze plays through his dark hair, and the sun catches on the sharp angles of his face. He’s beautiful. Not in a polished way, but in that quiet, devastating way that sneaks up on you and never really lets go.
His dark eyes are unreadable. I’ve stared into them so many times, and I always thought I saw something there. Something that mirrors what’s been clawing through my chest for what feels like forever.
But there’s nothing. Or maybe there is, and he’s just better at hiding it.
He’s close enough to touch, close enough to smell the musk on his skin, and still he feels a hundred miles away.
When I look at him, I see everything I never knew I wanted. I see my future. I see a man I’m willing to leave New York for. Me. Emily Kensington. I’m only beginning my career, and I’m doing well. Or was, until that prick stole from me. But River is fixing that.
When I look at him, I see a bloody knight in shining armor.
I see the man I love.
And when he looks at me, I’m not sure he sees anything at all.
“Could we talk?” I ask.
No smile. “We’re busy here, Emily.”
“I understand that, but—”
“Christ, Emily, do you have any idea what we’re going through right now? Misty needs medical attention, and I…” He rakes his fingers through his hair. “I’ve fucked up.”
“You’ve fucked up?”
“No. I mean, yeah. Except, no.” He grips my shoulders.
Sparks shoot through me at the contact.
“You should go,” he says softly so only I can hear. “You and Sienna.”
“And she gets to stay?” I gesture to Misty.
“She’s not feeling good. Plus, this involves her.”
A shudder of anger spikes through me. “Her? Her? Are you bloody kidding me?”
“I can’t explain now, Emily.”
I lower my voice to a whisper. “You have no idea what she’s capable of, River. Come with me. I’ll fill you in.”
“I’m well aware of her…escapades.”
He doesn’t look even slightly surprised at my admission. “Are you aware that she wanted me to sabotage the cook-off so we would win?”
“You did win.”
“Yes, but that’s not the point. She wanted to win so she could choose you as her date.”
“She didn’t choose me. She chose Brett. And you didn’t choose me either, Emily.”
“Because you were sitting at the table like a sullen child. You didn’t even give me a look.”
He lets go of my shoulders. “I don’t have time for this pettiness, Emily. You think I was acting like a child? You’re acting like a spoiled brat right now. This is important, and yes, Misty is involved.”
“But I want to help,” I say. “Please.”
Then his words from our last night together spear into my mind.
Not this time, Emily. You can’t help me with this.
He told me about the safe. About what was inside—things to remind him of what he’d lost, but more so of what he’d kept from his friends.
River was the one who brought Jake back.
Sod it!
I’m being a child. Poor little Emily who didn’t hear her lover say the three words back.
“If you want to help, go find Evangeline. We’re going to help Misty get back to the mansion.”
“I can get the doctor for you,” I say.
“The doctor?”
That’s right. River’s been gone. He doesn’t know about Darby. “Yes. She arrived earlier.”
“Fuck. Why are we waiting here, then?”
Alex helps Misty to her feet.
“I’m fine,” Misty says. “I can walk.”
“Lean on me,” Alex says.
She looks up at him adoringly.
Sorry, love. That one’s taken.
Of course she knows that.
I leave River and take Sienna’s arm. “Come on. Everything’s going to be fine.”
“I wish I were as optimistic as you are,” she replies.
“I wish I were too,” I say dryly.
I don’t know what’s going on. Or how Misty seems to have finagled her way into it. But I know one thing. I’m not walking away. Not from this, not from River, not from whatever game Misty thinks she’s playing.
Because I’ve played games before. I know what it takes to win them. And I didn’t claw my way through every fashion house in Manhattan just to be outmaneuvered by a manipulative heiress with an ego the size of Africa and a flair for crocodile tears.
Sienna walks beside me, quiet, her arm looped through mine, but I can feel the tension radiating off her. Her eyes are flicking back over her shoulder toward Jake.
“Did you know?” she asks softly.
“About Jake?” I shake my head. “No. River told me there was something he was keeping from the others. I didn’t think it was a resurrected best friend.”
Sienna exhales a shaky breath. “It changes everything.”
“Maybe,” I say. “But not for us.”
I don’t know if I believe that, but I say it anyway.
“Of course it does,” Sienna hisses. “Brett has hardly looked my way since Jake got here, and River…”
“River and I will be fine,” I snap.
“But Emily… You and Sebastian…”
“Yes, I know. I’ll come clean.”
I look over my shoulder. The others are yards behind us, fussing over Misty.
Except for Jake. He and Brett are walking together off to the side, but they don’t seem to be talking.
“She looks fine to me,” I say, returning my attention to Sienna. “It’s all an act.”
“I don’t know,” Sienna says. “She looks kind of dehydrated.”
“You don’t know her the way I do.” I shake my head. “She’s always up to something. The thing I can’t figure out is how she’s involved in this whole Jake thing.”
“Who knows?”
We walk for twenty more minutes when the mansion comes into view.
Evangeline is sitting in the living area when Sienna and I enter. “Where have you two been? Ariel needs you for the wedding rehearsal this afternoon.”
Right. Sienna and I are bridesmaids.
“Just for a walk on the beach,” Sienna replies. “But the men are right behind us with Misty. She’s a little sick. They want Darby to look at her.”
Evangeline’s smile tightens, just enough for me to notice. “I’m sure she’s fine.”
“Sienna thinks she might be dehydrated,” I offer.
“I see.” Evangeline rises. “Ugh. I’m not feeling all that great myself. Anyway, I suppose we’ll see how good an actress Misty really is.”
I blink. “You don’t believe she’s hurt?”
“Oh, I believe she’s hurt,” Evangeline says. “But that girl doesn’t do anything without layering it in performance. Even pain.” She studies me for a moment, head tilted. “And you, Emily? Are you still playing your part?”
I bristle. “I’m not playing anything.”
“No?” she says. “Then do something about it. Because if you don’t, Misty will keep writing the script. And she’s not a fan of giving other women good lines.”