“What I asked you the other day. What my mum meant when she said that I didn’t know what you went through to get the charges against me dropped.”
“Oh that,” I mumble, averting my gaze from his. Yeah, well, the appearance of his girlfriend had put a kibosh on any such discussion.
“Are you going to tell me what she meant?”
I shoot him a quick look. “I thought you wanted to leave the past in the past? Talking about it now is only going to bring up memories you want to forget. I know I want to forget it happened.”
My life had been miserable then. I’d been a total and complete wreck, and my parents hadn’t known how to handle the situation or me.
The insistent buzz of a cell phone sends my gaze to the location of the sound, which is his front pocket. My face warms and I jerk my eyes back up to his face once I realize where I’m looking.
Without breaking a stride, he fishes it out, spares it a cursory glance before stuffing it back in his pocket. He then responds as if the phone call hadn’t happened. Or hadn’t been important. So probably not his girlfriend or work.
“Yes, but I want to know. I think knowing will make it easier for me to understand…things.”
Understand you.
I’m sure that’s what he means.
The concrete walkway we’re on continues on up to the Commons. We follow the dirt path that wends its way around the sprawling two-story building and out to the parking lot.
“It was nothing really. I told my dad I wouldn’t testify against you. He knew they wouldn’t have a case without me.”
From his expression, I can tell he’s not buying my explanation. “If it were that easy, how did they even get a warrant for my arrest?”
“My dad. Since he was a district attorney, he knew people, as in the district attorney who brought the charges and the commissioner of the NYPD. The charges were dropped because, at the end of the day, the prosecutor didn’t have enough evidence to move ahead with the case.”
He shakes his head, disbelieving. “That’s not how my mum made it sound, and I can’t believe it was that cut and dry.”
It hadn’t been that cut and dry but I don’t want to talk about what happened. How my dad had threatened to completely humiliate me to get his way. But I hadn’t given in. We’d played a game of chicken and I’d won. And only then had he caved and told the prosecutor he wanted them to drop the charges.
If you can’t prove that a crime has been committed, then you can’t try someone for that crime.
“Maybe what she meant was how much I’d begged my dad not to go through with it. I mean, I didn’t know if they needed me or not. But when I realized the case would be much stronger if I cooperated, I told him that I didn’t care what he did to me, how long he grounded me, I wouldn’t cooperate.” At one point, he’d threatened to send me away to boarding school. He could have sent me to Timbuktu to live with the Dali Lama and I would have volunteered to pay the airfare.
Silence falls as we near the parking lot. My car’s parked in the second row and I can see it clearly from here.
“Did he take your car?” Graham asks. I assume curiosity is at the core of his question.
“No. It was my car. I bought it with my own money so my mom said he couldn’t.”
“Were you grounded?”
I let out a huff. “Yep. Two months. No parties. No movies. No late night anything. I drove to school and work, and that was it.” I hadn’t wanted to do anything so it hadn’t been much of a punishment. When you’re racked with guilt, it’s amazing how much you punish yourself. Not seeing Graham, not being able to talk to him, knowing how much he hated me, that was my punishment. My grades suffered and I nearly lost my best friend. The only way my junior year in high school could’ve been worse was if I’d gotten pregnant.
“Is your dad still locking up your boyfriends?” The wryness in his voice is barely detectable but it’s there as is the faint quirk of his lips.
What’s amazing is that he can joke about it now, when I still haven’t forgiven my dad.
“My parents got divorced a year ago.”
A look of mild surprise flashes across his face. “You don’t say.”
I suppress a smile. It strikes me as such a British thing to say, or maybe it’s how he says it. Now I’m imagining him in a velvet robe with a pipe between his lips, the picture of everything debonair and proper. Heat begins to spread throughout my body, concentrating in my lady parts.
God, Emily, you’re losing it. You can’t stand smoke from cigarettes, cigars or pipes. And when has a velvet robe ever held the vaguest attraction to you? Get a grip. And for goodness sakes, don’t go getting all hot and bothered over it. Exercise some control. You’re talking about your parents’ divorce.
“It was mutual. They said they’d been growing apart for a while.”
At any moment, I expect him to head to his car as we draw closer to mine, but he continues on beside me.
“I take it you stayed with your mum?”
I smile. Mum. I’d forgotten how he pronounced that. I remember when I first met him, he’d said that was one thing he couldn’t change from growing up in England.
“Yes, I did.” I would’ve chosen to say with my mom even if my dad hadn’t done what he did. My mom and I are pretty close. We’re certainly closer now that my dad’s out of the house. The biggest adjustment has been getting used to the fact that both my parents are dating.
I stop at the rear of my silver Audi and fish my key fob out of my purse.
“I see your dad’s still the district attorney of Westchester County.”
“You keeping tabs of him?” I ask with forced lightness as I unlock my car, open the rear passenger door and deposit my backpack on the backseat.
“The man who had me locked up? I’d be a bloody fool not to,” he scoffs.
I try not to wince at that. My fear is that it’ll remind him of all the reasons he has to hate me. Our stalemate is new and I’m afraid the smallest thing will be enough to set us back. Unravel the detente between us.
With a light bump of my hip, I push the door shut and turn to him. “I don’t see him as often as he wants. And he never comes up this way if that’s what you’re getting at.” He and my mom came the year I transferred but he hasn’t been by again. I usually see him a few times when I go home and that’s more than enough.
When Graham’s expression grows serious, I want to kick myself. Maybe that particular thought hadn’t occurred to him and now I’ve gone and put it out there.
“I didn’t think I’d run into you much less him,” he says.
And look what happened. We ran smack dab into each other, and my life hasn’t been the same since.
I should go, but the thing is, I don’t want to. Talking to him like this, without all the hostility, is…nice. I could get used to it.
“Let me get going now. I’ve got work in two hours,” he says, pushing his hand into his front pocket and pulling out his keys.
“Okay. Bye.” Yikes. What on earth happened to my voice? Why do I sound so…so breathy?
“See you Thursday.” He tips his chin at me before he turns and saunters away.
I watch him for a few seconds—his confident, loose-legged strides, and the way his jeans mold to the curve of his perfect ass—until the realization of what I’m doing sends me scurrying into my car. Once I’m behind the wheel, my heart feels like it’s about to burst out of my chest.
First thing: Breathe.
Second thing: Calm down.
Don’t attempt to drive until you’ve accomplished thing one and thing two.
I give myself a moment to fully absorb the miracle that is Graham forgiving me. Which is not to say that the burden of guilt and blame I’ve carried around all those years simply vanishes. It doesn’t. Now though, I’m no longer buried under the crippling weight of it. Absolved enough of it to bring a giddy smile to my face and tears of happiness to my eyes.
He forgave me and he doesn’t want
me to quit my job. I want to pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming.
Today—fifteen minutes ago—Graham reminded me of why I fell so hard and so swiftly when I first met him. His devastating smile. The concern in his beautiful blue eyes. His dry British humor. He’d been the whole package and I’d wanted him unlike any guy I’d ever wanted before. My selfishness had come at a steep cost. In a romantic sense, he’s lost to me for good. I have no illusions that there’s a snowball’s chance in hell that we’ll ever get back together but hopefully we can be friendly if not outright friends. I’d be satisfied with that.
The sound of an alarm off in the distance pulls me from my thoughts. I start the engine and lightly press April’s face on the car’s iPhone integration display.
“Hey, girlie, what’s up? How was your first day?” April asks upon answering.
Screw preliminaries, I’m too eager to share my incredible news. “I apologized to Graham and he said he forgives me.”
In response, her sharp intake of breath is followed by a heartfelt, “Thank God.”
Yep, what she said.
Chapter 18
“We need to talk. Call me back when you have time.”
That’s the message from Liane I had waiting for me when I finally picked it up.
When was that? Well not on my drive home. And not the hour I’d spent at home before going to work. No, I’d spent that time thinking about other things Liane-related but not of the woman herself. At least I tried not to think about her because then I’d be forced to question the status of our relationship.
The majority of my thoughts had been consumed with Emily and our conversation. Why had I gone after her? Why am I willing to forgive her now? She’d volunteered to quit. Am I crazy for not letting her go her way and cutting off all contact?
It’d boiled down to one question. Am I out of my fucking mind?
And when Liane had called in the middle of it, what had I done? I hadn’t answered. Don’t ask me why. Who is Emily to me that I wouldn’t simply excuse myself and take a call from my girlfriend?
My girlfriend.
No, that’s rubbish and I know it. I know why I didn’t pick up her call and why, when I eventually did—on my drive to work—I’d put off calling her back. For the same reason I’m sitting alone in my office staring at my mobile with dread churning in the pit of my stomach.
Liane and I haven’t spoken since the morning at my flat and I’m hoping that she’s had a chance to cool down and will be able to see things from my perspective. Emily is not a threat to our relationship but it’s obvious from the way Liane tore into me she doesn’t believe that.
Letting her find out about Emily and I working together isn’t my finest hour, but I can honestly say I haven’t given Liane reason to believe I’m interested in her. I’m not. Interested. Not in that way.
I won’t lie, it is nice not to be at war with her anymore. For years I’d equated Emily to everything that was wrong with my life. What I went through with her formed the basis of the women I let into my life. Let into my bed. It’s not a coincidence that I’ve only dated older women since. Women who are undeniably adults. The risk of putting my life—my freedom or reputation— in the hands of another Emily leaves me in cold sweats. Never again. I want someone mature. A woman who’s been around the block a time or two. A woman who can date whomever she pleases without having to get her daddy’s permission. And right now, Liane fits the bill.
Then call her back and make things right.
Straightening in my chair, I tap her name on the screen and drum my fingers on the desk as I wait for her to answer.
“Hi.” She sounds subdued. Not very encouraging,
“Hey, I got your message.”
“Are you at work?”
“Yes, I start in a bit.”
My response is met with silence. She’s angry and I’m not sure why.
“So what you’re telling me is that we only have a few minutes to talk?”
Right. There’s my answer. “No, that’s not what I’m saying. I can talk for as long as you want unless something comes up and I’m needed outside.”
That appears to calm her down somewhat because the strident note in her voice is gone the next time she speaks. “Is she there?”
I roll my eyes to the ceiling and recline in my chair. “If you’re asking if Emily’s working tonight, she’s not.” Of course that’s what she’s asking.
“You know, I don’t understand why you’re not as upset about her working there as I am. And I don’t understand why you can’t fire her. You’re the assistant manager.”
“Lee, I already told you that John’s not going to fire her. This is his bar.”
“He would if you told him about her. How she’s infatuated with you. How she’s basically stalking you.”
I wish to God the word stalking had never come out of my mouth.
“Listen, Lee, it’s not like that now. We’re cool. She comes here to work and that’s it. She’s no more interested in me than I am in her.” But don’t ask me to swear on my father’s grave on that. There have been times I get the feeling that all I’d have to do is say the word and she’d be game for whatever I wanted.
Or maybe it has all been about just what she said, getting me to see her in a different light? Getting me to forgive her.
Oh, what the hell do I know.
Liane lets out an audible sigh. “I don’t know, Graham. How do you expect me to feel? I mean this girl is working with you. You see her more than you see me.”
“Yeah, but I’m not in a relationship with her. I’m not sleeping with her, and I don’t care about her.”
The sleeping with her bit must have caused a part of my brain to go haywire because a flash of a memory floods my mind. It’s the image of Emily the last time I saw her before all hell broke loose. She’d been laid out on my bed naked, the long, dark strands of her hair tangled and her expression, sloe-eyed and sated.
Alarmed at the dangerous turn my thoughts have taken, I give myself a vigorous head shake to clear it of the image. It means nothing. It’s a natural reaction to having her back in my life. I’m going to remember some of those things whether I want to or not.
All I have to do is remind myself how old she’d been. That’s a crotch douser if ever there was one for men like me.
I prefer women.
She’s a woman now.
Oh, shut the fuck up. I don’t want her no matter how old she is.
“I hate that we’re so far apart. I’m tired of only seeing you on weekends. Don’t you want us to be a normal couple?”
“What are you talking about?” I ask, refocusing my attention on the conversation at hand. “We are a normal couple.” Whatever that means. Dear God, save me from women. They always have to make things more complicated than they are.
“No, normal couples don’t have long distance relationships. And when we get together, everything we do has to be worked around your job. We can’t even go out for a nice dinner because you’re at work until two in the morning.”
“Lee, you knew this when we started dating. Nothing has changed.”
Except Emily, and she somehow manages to change everything when it comes to my life.
“I didn’t know this was how things were going to be. And it isn’t a bad thing that I want to see more of my boyfriend. That some weekends I want us to go out for dinner or stay home for popcorn and a movie when people are still up. I don’t get that and I want it.”
I lean forward, resting my elbows on the desk and bracing my temple against my open palm. “I don’t know what you want me to do. Right now, my job and school are here.” She knows I don’t plan to be here long. Once I graduate, I’ll be looking for a job. She also knows my first choice will be to find one in the city.
“I was thinking of finding something closer to you,” she says in a softer voice. Putting it out there like a trial balloon.
I go still, my eyes unblinking. There’s no way she said what I thi
nk she did. “Pardon? I don’t understand what you mean. Find what closer to me?” My voice sounds slightly strangled.
“A job and an apartment of course. At least an apartment of my own for now. Maybe later…”
No how. No way. Just no. “Lee, you’re not going to quit your job and move up here. That’s crazy.”
What follows is a tense moment of silence. Her response is whisper-soft, her words layered with hurt. “You don’t want me to come.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. “Lee, I don’t even know if I’ll be here nine months from now. I have no idea where I’ll be working much less living. You know that. Why would you do something as impetuous as quitting your job to move up here?” The last thing I want is for her to make that kind of sacrifice for me. Who even knows if our relationship will make it to the end of the year?
“I just don’t want to lose you.”
“You’re not losing me.” I like things the way they are but I’m beginning to feel the kind of pressure I don’t want or need in my life.
“I’m thinking about the future.”
Oh shit. I don’t respond because…what am I going to say? I’m not thinking that far ahead. Not about us.
“Carol got engaged last night.” Carol is her best friend and they’ve known each other since grammar school so you’d think she wouldn’t sound like her dog had just died. Weddings are generally happy occasions. But this explains the sudden desire to move closer to me.
“Is that what this is about?” I ask patiently.
“Graham, she is the third one of my friends who’s gotten engaged or married in the past year. Nancy broke up with her boyfriend of seven years. Seven years. She thought he was going to marry her. Now she has to start all over again.”
Oh Christ, this is even worse than I thought. “Lee, we’ve been going out five months.”
“I know. I know. And I don’t want you to think that I’m trying to pressure you because that’s not my intention. I just want to make sure we’re both in the same head space, if you know what I mean.”
Forever With You Page 16