“I need to go.” Emerson jumps out of bed and grabs my shirt from the floor, holding it in front of her body. She locates her phone and checks the display before setting it on the nightstand. “My clothes are everywhere,” she grumbles.
“Slow down.” I sit up to grab her, but it’s too late. She’s already sprinted for the bathroom.
A phone chimes and I automatically look to mine. The ringtone is different though and I relax. It continues and I realize it’s Emerson’s.
“Your phone is ringing,” I yell softly, more to myself than to her.
I scoot across the bed and pick up the phone so I can take it to Emerson. A text flashes across the screen and one word catches my eye.
Toby.
Son of a bitch.
Toby: I didn’t get to finish talking with you last night. Let’s get together today. Or tonight *wink*
A steel shaft slices into my chest as I blink and read the text again. No. There’s no way. No possible way she’s messing around with this guy.
Emerson’s footsteps are so silent that she’s at the side of the bed before I see she’s standing there. I realize she’s been watching my face. She holds out her hand for the phone and glances at the display, her mouth tightening.
“I can explain,” she says.
I wait in silence. She stares at the drawn curtains. A stillness this deep must be what astronauts feel in space as they drift inside the shuttle.
My chest feels ready to cave in since I haven’t dared to breathe.
“You’re seeing him?” It’s an effort to keep my voice steady. It’s not as if we’re goddamn fucking engaged or married or exclusive even. But I thought we had an unspoken understanding.
I’ve been thinking like a novice and I should know how this works since I’ve dated several girls simultaneously and broken more than a few hearts when discovered.
My standard answer was always, “I thought we were seeing other people.”
“You know how I feel about you. Did you think I wouldn’t care about Toby? That I would be okay with it?” She sits beside me on the bed and I swear I’m so numb I cannot feel my limbs. She doesn’t even try to defend herself.
“Just give me a little time to work through some stuff. The thing with Toby isn’t what you think.”
“Does he know where you spent last night?” I raise a brow. I don’t really give a flying fuck what he thinks. I’m only concerned that she understands I’m not into this sharing scenario and she’d better dump his ass. Now.
The look on her face is so innocent and pale. It takes all the self-control I possess not to say things I’ll regret.
She has to know that we have something different together. We are not casually dating or randomly hooking up.
Emerson gets to her feet and won’t make eye contact. “Listen. I have to go. And I didn’t plan for this to happen. But the thing with Toby—”
“You told me once that if we were together, it’s just me and you. What happened? You forget you put that on me?”
“I didn’t forget,” she whispers. “I want to be with you. It just can’t be now.”
I have no idea what that means. “You tell him you won’t see him again. You tell him now. In front of me.” I get out of bed and grab my pants.
“I can’t do that,” she says.
“Why not?”
“Trust me. I can’t.”
“Do you understand how much I trusted you? I told you how lost I’ve been since Kate and Paisley died. You threw away my trust. You don’t give a damn about me.”
Tears well in her eyes. “That’s not true.”
“I can’t see it any other way.” My heart is beating like an engine ready to overheat. “Go ahead. Get out. Go climb into Toby’s bed.”
My pants are unfastened and hanging on my hips. I move to the windows because I cannot watch her leave. She’s not responding to my last comment, and I really don’t expect her to.
I open the curtains to find the sun’s beginning to rise. My head is now pounding and my hands are clammy.
The sound of the closing door sets panic roaring through me like a forest fire. Who am I to judge when I’ve done this to so many girls in the past year?
But more than anything, I’ve been sidelined by the unexpected and pierced by her coldness. I’ve made it clear that I’m crazy about her.
The window has a perfect view of the parking lot. Nausea builds in my throat when I see her running to her car. She unlocks it and gets inside, but I can’t stop watching.
Ten minutes pass and she still hasn’t driven away.
I turn away from the windows so I don’t have to watch her leave. A cold stone of regret sits in my core. Today, I’ve learned a hard lesson.
Life is a bitch who’ll surprise you every time. Just when you think you have her next move figured out, she pulls a surprise from her sleeve. Sometimes it’s only a card you didn’t see.
Other times it’s a shotgun aimed at your heart—boom, boom, boom.
Chapter Nineteen
Go It Alone
Emerson
I might as well be a member of the living dead. Lying to Dylan is the worst sin I’ve ever committed. Dylan’s hurt expression reached in and pulled out my heart like some ninja. I left the still-beating essence of it behind, pulsing in the early morning light of the parking lot.
Ironically, he questioned my trust.
I handed my own trust to Dylan when I’ve built my life on caution. I shouldn’t have slept with him last night, and I won’t risk putting him in jeopardy again.
I stand in the tiny shower, the spray of water all wonky because it’s never worked right. A burst of cold hits my face and I welcome the shock and punishment of it. I deserve to be hurt, because I was selfish. I should’ve gone there and told him we needed to take a break.
“Sissy? There’s a guy at the door.”
For one instant, I picture Dylan standing there, but I know better. “Who is it? I’m in the shower.”
“Yes, I figured you weren’t baking cookies. He says he’s Toby.” There’s blessed silence for a few seconds and I hope she’s gone away. But then Gabby knocks several times in rapid succession on the door. “He’s cute. Or at least the part I can see through the peephole is. Can I let him in?”
“No. Are you crazy? Wait a minute.” I twist the knob fully to the left and a shot of scalding water hits my back. “Ow,” I scream and stumble back.
“Sis?”
“I’m coming.” I grab a towel and dry off. It takes another minute to get dressed and out of the bathroom so I can get to the door. The peephole reveals a fisheye view of Toby’s profile.
I unlock both bolts and open the door. “What do you want?”
“Good morning,” he answers and walks in without being invited.
“I’m leaving in a few minutes. You’ll have to catch me later.”
He gives me a patient smile, the kind you give to unruly grandmothers. “Good. I’ll talk to you while we’re in the car.”
“You can call me.”