I remembered how competent Emily had been in the kitchen when she made me the scampi. And how much she’d enjoyed herself at karaoke night. She’d never said anything about her dad, but I already hated the man for being a cheater and the cause of Emily giving up things she liked. When a man had a family, he had responsibilities—to nurture, to provide and to protect. Emily’s dad apparently hadn’t done any of that.
“He isn’t a great husband…or father, frankly.” Abby sounded a little sad. “He only supports Emily when she does what he wants her to, what makes him look good. He was so proud when she got into Harvard. Then he was furious when she graduated and told him she was going to be a romance writer. Apparently he’d told all his buddies she was going to work for Goldman Sachs.”
My mind conjured up Emily working. Her hair a little messy. An old T-shirt. Yoga pants. Candy wrappers and cracker bags everywhere. Muttering to herself more often than not.
Probably not a Goldman Sachs look.
“But he should be happy with how she’s doing,” I said. “She’s a Wall Street Journal bestselling author. That’s a big deal. A huge accomplishment.”
Abby laughed, then shook her head. “That’s not success in his view. He loves to brag that Emily is successful because of him, and her writing ‘mommy porn’ isn’t what he had in mind. He’s determined to ensure she fails, so he can say, ‘I told you so.’ Emily and Brandon made a bet. She’s supposed to hit number one on Amazon within four years or she’s going to take out full-page ads in the Wall Street Journal, New York Times, USA Today and L.A. Times.”
“Ads? Saying what?” I asked, my mouth dry with something that felt like dread for Emily and loathing for her dad.
“She has to admit that her dad’s right—that romance is stupid and its readers are silly and she should’ve listened to him.”
What the hell? “That would ruin her career!” And she worked too damn hard to set fire to it like that.
“That’s the point,” Abby said, like it was par for the course. “He believes that it’ll make her rethink her career choice and force her into doing something more ego-boosting. For him, that is.”
What a dick. My hatred for Emily’s dad doubled. “But she doesn’t have to take out the ads for real, does she? Who’s going to make her?”
“There’s a lawyer with an escrow account with sufficient funds to cover the ads. She’s going to make sure.”
I ran a hand across my mouth. This was freakin’ serious. “So what happens if Emily does hit number one?”
“Then Brandon has to take ads out in those papers and admit that she’s right—that romance is a lovely genre, its readers are smart and so on.”
A much better scenario. Besides, I thought romance was pretty damned cool, and I considered myself smart.
“Can she do it?” I asked. She hadn’t beaten her dad yet despite the fact that she’d been on bestseller lists before.
“Oh yes. We have lots of fabulous plans for her next book, and we’re going all out because it’s her last shot. Emily has been building her fan base, and they’re wonderfully supportive. I’m sure she’ll succeed this time. I can’t wait to see Brandon’s face when he loses. I’ve already designed custom frames for each of the ads. I’m going to print them out, blow them up and hang them in the bedroom, where he can see them every day.” Her smile was mean, her teeth gleaming.
“Does she need help with publicity?” I asked, willing to lend Emily my team. They were amazing at creating buzz.
“She already has a publicity company she’s working with. Thank you, though. We’re doing whatever it takes to win.”
“I hope she does. I’m on Team Emily one hundred percent.” I wanted to see her succeed. If she happened to kick her dad’s ass along the way, so much the better. But most importantly, I wanted her to be happy, and she wouldn’t be happy if she had to put out those garbage ads and insult the genre and readers she loved so much.
Abby smiled. “I know. I heard you talk about her work. You’re a gem, Killian. I’m glad Emily got to meet you.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Emily
After brunch, Mir drove back to Alexandria to attend her meeting. Then Devlin and the Barbie Sextet left. Actually, it was more like Killian evicting them. But Devlin was laughing, so it didn’t seem like there were any hard feelings between the two. I couldn’t say the same about the girls, who pouted the entire time that they didn’t get to post anything.
Mom also decided she ought to leave me and Killian alone.
“You don’t have to go,” I said, following her to her car. She was in a vulnerable place emotionally, and she might need my support. I also didn’t want her to go back home either, because that meant Dad won too easily. He needed to sweat a little more. And attempt his usual routine to get Mom to come back.
“I know, but I’m not going to bother you two love birds.”
My face grew hot. “We aren’t love anythings.”
“Oh please. I’ve seen the way Killian looks at you. And he’s so handsome! Even better than Neil Diamond!”
“Who?”
“Never mind. He cares about you, Emily.” She patted my arm. “You should recognize that. You’re a romance writer.”
“Romance happens in books, Mom. Not in real life.”
Yeah, but Killian gave you romance-novel sex. So maybe he can give you other stuff, too.
Shut up, libido-addled brain. I wasn’t talking to you.
“You shouldn’t be so cynical, dear,” Mom said.
“What I am is realistic.” Even if I weren’t, seeing Mom and Dad’s marriage would have soured any starry-eyed expectations about relationships. “And I don’t want you going home so soon. Dad needs to suffer some more. He hasn’t sent you a single flower.”
He always sent her gifts to get her to come back. Mainly chocolates and flowers. He even gave her apologies, which were empty, since he was going to cheat on her again.
But she always caved after he showered her with enough presents and enough sorrys. What was it about him that she couldn’t ditch him?
“Don’t worry. I’m going to Charlotte to stay with your aunt.”
“Okay, then.” I let out a soft sigh of relief. If my mom was a butterfly, easily won over by flowers and sweets, Aunt Gail was a dragon. She’d make sure Dad groveled enough.
“I’ll call, sweetie. We need to talk about finalizing the ads and graphics,” she said, giving me a hug.
“I know.” I hugged her back and made a mental note to text Aunt Gail asking her to be extra nasty to my dad when he tried to get in touch. “Drive safe.”
“I will. And keep in touch with those girls.”
“You have to be kidding.”
“But they’re so friendly! I’m following them on Instagram. And I got their numbers in case you need them.”
They exchanged numbers? It was a little creepy. Besides, I didn’t want to socialize with Killian’s exes or wannabe groupies.
On the other hand, it was my mom, the textbook extrovert. That was why she handled my social media for me. Because if I were in charge, I’d never post anything except once in a while when I had a new book coming out.