The Night We Met

by Rinyu, Beth

  “Are you okay?” Lukas asked.

  I nodded and forced a smile, hoping he didn’t notice my sweaty palm when he took my hand in his or my trembling legs as we entered the restaurant. I turned my head, just before the door closed to find Bridgette and Connor stepping out of the taxi. God, why couldn’t she have just feigned sickness or something to spare us both from the acting job we were now going to have to do? I held my breath as we walked into Per Se, an upscale restaurant overlooking Central Park that I had never set foot in after living in New York City my entire life…mainly because I couldn’t afford it. I had heard people rave about the place and then complain about the prices, never thinking I’d ever be dining here myself. Yet here I was with Lukas and my sister, who really wasn’t my sister at least for the evening, right behind me. My only hope at that moment was that she would fall on the way in and have to be rushed to the ER for a sprained ankle or something not too extreme.

  “Hello, sir, may I help you?” the maître d’ asked.

  “Yes, we’re meeting Phillip Ashton,” Lukas directed. The hairs on my arm stood at attention when I heard the door closing behind me and felt her presence drawing nearer. I thought about feigning a fainting spell for a moment but wasn’t sure if I could pull it off without injuring myself. Why hadn’t she told me about this dinner? She bitched about everything else to me when it came to Lukas, so how could she have failed to mention this? If she had, I certainly wouldn’t have agreed to go.

  “Hello, Bridgette.” Lukas was curt with his greeting. I squeezed my eyes shut and swallowed hard, knowing I had two choices. Turn around and reveal that she was my sister and it was all a huge coincidence, or go along with this charade—one I was so sick of playing. In my heart of hearts, I wanted to go with the first option. I still would have lied to Lukas, but at least it would end at that moment, and we could continue whatever it was we had together going forward with the truth. But I knew if I did that, it would screw up whatever chances my sister had of keeping her job because it would be perceived as an unfair advantage. My heart sank, knowing what I had to do. Once I turned around and faced her as a stranger there was no turning back. Any chance of Lukas and me continuing a relationship once all was said and done would be void because he would never forgive me for deceiving him in such a huge way. I fought the lump in my throat and the burn in my eyes, knowing once again I was casting aside my own happiness for the sake of someone else, and I hated myself more than I ever thought possible because of it.

  “Hello.” Bridgette’s greeting was as equally chilly.

  “This is Emmeline.”

  My ears rang and my face heated as I turned around in super slow motion, like a replay in a baseball game where you’re trying to see if the runner was definitely tagged. There was no question in my mind I was out and never playing the game again.

  “It’s actually Emme.” My voice cracked with emotion, and I was certain my sister had caught a glimpse of the tears filling my eyes. Sadness had overtaken me in knowing I had reached the point of no return, and Lukas would never be mine in the way I was starting to want him to be.

  “Emme. Hello.” Bridgette extended her hand, remaining as calm as could be—so typical of her. I was hating her as much as myself at that moment.

  “This is my husband, Connor. Connor, this is Lukas and Emme.”

  Connor bit back a smirk and pulled it together, shaking Lukas’ hand first then reaching for mine, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

  “Your party will be dining in the East Room,” the maître d’ announced.

  Lukas outstretched his arm, allowing my sister and Connor to walk ahead of us. I checked Bridgette out from behind in her simple black dress and her hair slicked back in a low ponytail, and for the first time in a long time, I felt more put-together than her.

  “I’m going to apologize to you in advance for subjecting you to her tonight,” Lukas whispered in my ear, and I feigned my best chuckle. But there was nothing funny at all about the situation I had unknowingly landed myself in. I was feeling so low, knowing how badly I was misleading Lukas. We found our way to the table where two older men and two women, who I assumed were their wives, were waiting. My focus quickly diverted past them and to the million-dollar view of the Manhattan skyline. This would have been the perfect night, the perfect place, and the perfect guy, if all of it wasn’t part of a big, rotten lie.

  “Bridgette, Mr. Reinier, it’s so nice to see the two of you again.” The heavy-set man with a perfectly round face stood up and greeted them with a handshake. “This is my business associate, Marcus Wright.”

  The other man sitting beside him rose to his feet, barely acknowledging my sister and falling all over Lukas. The heavy-set man who introduced himself to my brother-in-law and me as Phillip Ashton went around the table, making the rest of the introductions. I was correct in my assumption that the two older women who looked as if they had the personalities of bowls of soup were their wives. I took a seat around the round table next to Lukas and one of the wives. While my sister and her husband sat across from us with the two men whose business Bridgette and Lukas were vying for sat between the two of them.

  As Lukas and Bridgette got caught up in conversation and the proposal they had both been working on, I exchanged nervous glances from across the table with my brother-in-law, who looked just as uncomfortable as I was for getting caught up in this whole convoluted situation.

  “That’s a beautiful color on you, dear,” the woman sitting next to me said, who if I was remembering correctly was Diane, Mr. Ashton’s wife.

  “Oh, thanks. It’s Italian silk from Milan.”

  “Oh, that explains why I love it so much. I assume you’ve been then. Isn’t it magnificent?”

  “I have, and yes, it certainly is.”

  Over the course of the next hour, and a few glasses of wine, Diane Ashton transformed from the stuffy old woman I had made her out to be when we first sat down into my new ally. Turned out, she was friendly with some of New York’s most influential people in the fashion industry and had some very promising connections. After building myself up to her about my experience like I was on a job interview, she took my contact information, assuring me she’d pass my name along.

  Funny how I fit right in with ease in a situation that would normally be foreign to me, while my sister seemed to be struggling when my eyes dared to catch a glimpse of her. Like a deer in the headlights, she allowed Lukas to take over the entire spiel they were trying to sell to Mr. Ashton and his associate. Turned out Lukas wasn’t the bastard she had made him out to be. If he hadn’t been there, and they were dependent solely on Bridgette’s selling skills, they would’ve no doubt lost this account they so desperately needed.

  I’m not sure if it was in that moment or earlier in the night that I realized for the first time ever that my sister was far from perfect. What outsiders looking in saw so clearly, I was finally able to start seeing for myself. The way she twisted things to fit her narrative, like this little plot she concocted. She convinced me it would benefit my father as well as herself. Knowing my father was my weakness, she used me to see it through. Just like how she was using Lukas at the moment to save her ass after cursing him out for the past two weeks. She thought nothing of it, almost as if it was expected of people. Maybe it was the wine that had given me this newfound clarity or maybe it was because I was filled with resentment over the decision her presence tonight forced me to make when I wasn’t at all ready to make it. Whatever it was, I was overcome with the courage to stand up to my bossy big sister who I always took a back seat to.

  Lukas reached under the table and placed his hand on my bare thigh, causing my anger toward my sister to escalate even more. I placed my hand on top of his and gave it a gentle, supportive squeeze. If I could’ve frozen time it would’ve come down to that split second. A secret signal of reassurance that no one else at that table was privy to. In Lukas’ eyes, I was still Emmeline, the girl he had met at a bar, and not Bridgette’s sister. Br
idgette was just some pain in the ass he was forced to join forces with for the sake of the company. Why couldn’t that all have been true? And more importantly, why was it so hard for me to put my happiness over everyone else’s for once?

  Chapter 14

  Lukas

  I WAS CERTAIN that Emmeline had one too many glasses of wine by the time dinner was done, which was confirmed when she jumped right in and agreed to Bridgette’s husband’s invitation of an after-dinner drink with the two of them. My brain was on overload, wondering if Mr. Ashton was impressed enough with the proposal that was presented to him. I didn’t expect him to answer right away. Like all good businessmen, he had to make those vying for his business sweat it out.

  In the end I was impressed with the proposal Bridgette had put together, but not her execution in presenting it. Something she’d need to work on if the New York office was the one that was chosen. The last thing I felt like doing was spending any more unnecessary time with her and her husband. In addition to Bridgette and me clashing, there was something about her husband that irked me. The few times I had looked his way at dinner and caught him shooting arrogant smirks at Emmeline got under my skin. But in her drunken stupor, Emmeline had agreed to have a drink before I could even protest. The one drink I had agreed to had now turned into three for Emmeline.

  “You did such a great job,” Emmeline slurred, standing on her tippy-toes and meshing her lips against mine, dangling a martini in her hand.

  As much as I wanted to continue the kiss I backed away and got the situation under control. The last thing I wanted to do was make a tasteless scene in this classy restaurant and in front of Bridgette of all people.

  “Wasn’t he so awesome?” She squeezed my face and directed her questioning to Bridgette, who was seething. The ice in her glass was the innocent victim of her frustration as she stabbed it relentlessly with the plastic stirrer. I wasn’t sure if she was annoyed at Emmeline’s drunken behavior or the fact she hadn’t stopped singing my praises from the moment we reached the bar area. “He is just the best…” Emmeline placed her finger on her cheek and stared straight ahead, appearing to be deep in thought. “Wait…what are you to me again?” Throwing her head back in a loud laugh, she took a step back, getting caught up in her shoe, nearly landing on her ass until Bridgette’s husband grabbed her by the waist just before she went down. I flashed him a wary glance, causing him to back off as I wrapped my arm around her, allowing her to lean up against me.

  “That’s enough of that,” I said, taking the martini from her hand and placing it on the bar. She was definitely cute when she was drunk, and I was getting enjoyment over how badly she was annoying Bridgette. But this wasn’t the time or place.

  “Lukas,” she whispered, swaying back and forth. “I’m not feeling so good.”

  “All right then, let’s go.”

  “We can bring her home.” Bridgette’s husband’s suggestion caught me off guard and every ounce of my self-control was slipping away. I seriously wanted to knock him out. It was hard to believe that a woman as outspoken as Bridgette didn’t haul off and punch him in the face herself.

  “Umm…no. I think I’m quite capable of making sure she gets home okay,” I snapped, meeting his deep brown eyes.

  “Oh, yeah. I’m sorry.” He held up his hands and glanced at his wife, who looked down at the floor. “I’m just going to hit the men’s room. Lukas, it was nice meeting you.”

  I nodded, not much in the mood for pretending to even like this guy and the way he was outwardly flirting with Emmeline right in front of his wife.

  “Just sit right there,” I said to Emmeline after guiding her down on the barstool and handing the bartender my credit card.

  “Here.” Bridgette placed some cash on the bar.

  “It’s fine. I got it.” I turned my head in Emmeline’s direction, making sure she hadn’t fallen off her seat.

  “I insist.” Bridgette slid the money closer, and I brushed her off, signing my credit card receipt. I didn’t have time for this. I wanted to get out of there before her husband came back and I said something I’d regret. “Really, Lukas? I’m trying to extend the olive branch ever so slightly, and you refuse to budge.”

  I narrowed my eyes at her. “You want to extend the olive branch, then why don’t you start by telling your husband to back off my girlfriend?”

  “Your girlfriend?” Her jaw dropped. Her apparent shock oddly wasn’t over the accusation I had made against her husband, but over my reference to Emmeline as my girlfriend. It was obvious she was appalled, but not for the reason I had expected her to be.

  “The room is spinning,” Emmeline said in a weakened voice.

  “Bridgette, I’ll see you on Monday. I have to get her out of here.” I slid the money she had placed on the bar back in her direction then rushed to Emmeline’s side, easing her off the seat. Bridgette sat there silently staring at the two of us, her eyes clouded with emotion as she caught Emmeline’s gaze as if she was trying her hardest to hold back her tears. I didn’t have time to ask her what was wrong, and to be honest, I really didn’t care. I needed to get Emmeline out of there before she made an even bigger scene by losing her dinner all over the floor.

  ________________

  After Emmeline begged me not to take her home and against my better judgment, we ended up at my hotel room. It was probably just as well; her father was more than likely still working and the last thing I wanted to do was drop off his daughter totally wasted and just run off. She sat on the edge of the bed with her eyes half-closed as I helped her undress. “Can you help me out a little and lift your arm?” I chuckled as I pulled one of my T-shirts over her head.

  “I’m so tired…” she muttered, swaying back and forth. I pulled down the covers and she got underneath.

  “Are you okay? Do you still feel like you may throw up?” I asked, loosening my tie and sitting on the edge of the bed beside her.

  “No,” she whispered.

  I pushed her hair from her face then moved my hand, intertwining it with hers. Despite having a little too much to drink tonight, she was a real lifesaver. She’d definitely won over Mr. Ashton’s wife, which I was hoping would give us some bonus points. Not to mention the way she got under Bridgette’s skin with her endless accolades about me. It was a good night. It was always a good night whenever I was with Emmeline. Something about her always managed to make me smile and forget about the miserable existence my life had become over the past few years or maybe had always been.

  I found myself laughing when I was with her, something that came so natural for others, but was always so hard for me to do. But when I was with her that laughter expelled just as easy as breathing. How had I become lost in this woman lying in this bed? Lost in someone I’d only known for such a short period of time. Lost in ways I never imagined yet found in a way I never thought possible. I had gotten so much more than I bargained for with her. I had spent three years following all the rules with the wrong woman. Now here I was staring down at this beautiful girl I had known for such a short amount of time, and all those rules went out the window. How was that possible? She had opened up a world I had never known, a place where only she and I existed.

  “Lukas,” she muttered.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m so sorry. Promise me you won’t hate me.” Her voice trailed off as she gripped my hand tighter then fell into a deep sleep.

  I watched her chest rise and fall, remembering how she had wanted the second time we slept together to be the night we first met. That would always be hers...and this night would always be mine. I bent down, pressing my lips against her forehead. “Silly girl, I could never hate you.”

  Chapter 15

  Emme

  THE BRIGHT SUNLIGHT streaming through the open terrace door would’ve been the perfect way to start the day if your head wasn’t pounding from drinking way too much the night prior. Add the serenade of the honking horns and cars passing by on the busy street below, and the three-
piece band in my head turned into a full-blown heavy metal concert.

  I braced the palms of my hands on the mattress and hoisted myself up, glancing at the empty space beside me, wondering where Lukas had gone. The sound of his voice out on the terrace answered my question. He paced back and forth with his phone glued to his ear, wearing just his sweatpants. The bits and pieces of his conversation I could hear definitely weren’t in English. His voice rose a little louder, allowing me to hear the enunciation of his words. I was pretty certain it was German he was speaking. Whatever he was saying, he was clearly pissed at the person on the other end of that call.

  He stopped for a moment with his back toward me, stretching and giving me a direct view of his flawless body. I admired it for a bit, then decided to use the time he was preoccupied with conversation to head into the bathroom to try and make myself presentable. After throwing some cold water on my face and rubbing some toothpaste in my mouth with my finger, I prepared myself to look at my reflection. Surprisingly I didn’t appear as bad as I was feeling as I stood in front of the mirror, wearing just my underwear and an oversized T-shirt I could only assume was Lukas’. I didn’t remember getting undressed or even going to bed for that matter. How I had wished I could’ve forgotten other things about the night, like sealing my fate with Lukas.

  He was still on the phone when I stepped back into the room and rifled through my purse for a ponytail holder. I’d almost given up on my quest of searching the bottomless pit when the nylon-covered elastic band twisted around my fingers. Taking a seat on the bed, I flipped my head upside down, wishing I hadn’t when the throbbing intensified.

  “Ouch, ouch, ouch,” I whispered, raking my fingers through my knotted hair and twisting it up into what I was certain was a poor excuse for a bun. Now what? I had no clothes, except my romper that was strewn neatly across the settee.