CHAPTER NINETEEN
Emory walked into the kitchen of her apartment and found Wesley making her favorite breakfast, French toast. He usually made it only on her birthday, which wasn’t today, so she sensed something was up. She prodded Wesley for information as he plated the French toast, but he insisted she eat first. They sat awkwardly at the kitchen table, Emory refusing to eat until he spilled, though sad her breakfast was growing cold. After much back and forth, Wesley pulled out The Charlotte Observer from a kitchen drawer.
“Bad photo of me in there?” Emory found herself in the newspaper every other week. The public, or at least the reporters, seemed fascinated with Mason’s girlfriend -- who she was, what clothes she wore, where she went. It usually was nothing more than a blurb or two in the Style section. She learned to live with it, but preferred to be behind the camera.
“Nothing about you,” Wesley said, and motioned to her plate. “I worked hard on that.”
“Something about Mason in there?”
Wesley shuffled the paper, finding the front page of the Sports section, and set it in front of her.
QB Mason Accepted Less Money from Panthers
As she read the details of Mason’s contract, her face turned from pink to red to crimson, the local reporter wondering why a quarterback, still recovering from shoulder surgery, would accept $1 million less to sign with the Panthers in what could be his final contract. The reporter acknowledged there was an additional $500,000 in incentives with the Panthers, but he saw no way those would ever be reached: it was doubtful Mason would start four games, or ever play in eight. So Mason had turned down a better offer from Seattle to play in Carolina. At this stage of Mason’s career, the reporter could find no good reason for doing so, but speculated it might be the new girlfriend.
“You didn’t know, did you?” Wesley asked, as Emory rose from the table, taking the paper with her, along with her keys and purse. “There’s probably more to the story that you don’t know.”
“And I’m going to damn well find out.”
* * *
Emory parked illegally at the hospital. She got out of her car, with the paper in hand, and slammed the door. She quickly walked inside and up a flight of stairs into the physical therapy center, blowing past the receptionist who called after her. She entered the exercise room and saw a young female therapist stretching out Mason’s shoulder. He smiled at Emory, happy and surprised to see her, but she didn’t respond, other than to glare at him as she approached, like a tiger stalking her prey.
“What’s wrong?” Mason asked, the therapist releasing his arm.
Emory threw the paper at him. “What the hell is this?”
Mason picked it up and read the headline. He hadn’t seen the morning paper and didn’t know the story broke. Why hadn’t Steven warned me? He skimmed the article. Shit, it’s pretty much accurate. The therapist excused herself, having no therapy to offer here.
“Why are you so mad?” he asked. Should I just start apologizing now?
“Why am I mad? Are you fucking serious?”
“Yeah, I didn’t want to be in Seattle. Raining all the time. I don’t even own an umbrella. I wanted to be in Charlotte with you,” he said, reaching for her hand.
Emory held up hers, ordering him to stop. “Oh, don’t even try it. Don’t even try to get all sweet with me. Again, this is something you never even mentioned to me, and decided without me.”
Mason wiped his hands with his towel and hung it around his neck. “Em, we had just started seeing each other and things were, well, delicate between us. No amount of money was going to make me leave you.”
“Did you ever consider that I would have gone with you?”
Mason raised his eyebrows. “You would have moved to Seattle?”
“I guess we’ll never know, because you didn’t fucking tell me I had a choice.”
“I knew if I told you, you would’ve made me go to Seattle. Am I wrong?”
Emory knew he was right: she wouldn’t have wanted him to stay in Charlotte for her and less money. But she was a stubborn woman, taught to be relentless from her father, and wasn’t about to concede anything. “You should’ve told me.”
“Em.” He again reached for her hand, but she swatted it away.
“Don’t! I’m pissed.” Mason smiled at her, trying not to, but just couldn’t help himself. “What’s so fucking funny?”
“It’s just weird to have an angel yell at me.”
She threw her arms up in the air and stormed out in a huff, making her way back to her car, quickening her pace, as she recalled parking illegally. The last thing I need is a ticket to cap off this awful morning.
A man in a white lab coat rushed after her. “Emory!” he called, then grabbed her arm.
She stopped in her tracks and turned around. A parking ticket is preferable to this. “Hi, Eric.”
“Are you OK?” he asked, sizing her up. “You look flustered, walking so quickly.”
“Just a weird morning.”
“Something happen here at the hospital?”
“No, not here,” she lied. Emory didn’t want to get into any details. She wasn’t in any mood and owed Eric nothing.
“I’ve seen you in the paper a few times lately.”
“I’m not thrilled about that,” she said, rolling her eyes and walking again towards her car.
Eric followed her like a puppy. “Maybe I should get your autograph? Or his?”
She glared at him, unimpressed by his lame attempt at humor, and put her hand on her car door. She didn’t have the energy to deal with Eric and frankly didn’t care anymore. Over the past few weeks, she’d moved on with Mason, even if he seemed intent on infuriating her, and needed to save her energy to whip Mason into shape. Eric again put his hand on her arm. “I’ve got to go,” she said, wiggling her arm out of his hand.
“Can we just talk?”
“I have nothing to say.” She opened the door, and Eric gently pushed it closed.
“I miss you,” he said sadly, a tenderness in his voice.
Emory knew she wasn’t going to get away easily. She turned towards Eric and exhaled deeply, trying to regroup and shift her attention from one difficult man to another. “You have two minutes. Talk!”
Eric apologized again for his behavior with Molly, and then kept on and on about it, irritating Emory who looked at her watch, having heard all that before. He promised if Emory gave him another chance, he’d be willing to wait until she was ready to marry him. But Emory shook her head, and then he lowered his head onto her shoulder, whispering again about how much he missed her, and hoping at the very least they could be friends down the road.
Emory knew Mason wouldn’t be pleased if she had a friendship with Eric -- or any man other than Wesley, really -- and wasn’t sure she’d want one anyway. She pushed Eric’s head up from her shoulder, and he looked into her eyes. “You love him, don’t you?” Stunned he’d ask, Emory didn’t know how to respond. She loved Mason -- she always had -- but didn’t want to tell her ex-fiancé that. Regardless, it was none of his business, so she let her silence say everything. “You couldn’t set a date because you still loved him?”
She closed her eyes to hold in her tears, feeling guilty for hurting Eric so badly -- and leading him on and agreeing to marry him -- when she still was in love with Mason. “I’m really sorry, Eric.” Eric appreciated her words and pulled her into a hug, another man’s arms making her very uncomfortable. She patted him on the back awkwardly and gently pushed him away, then opened her car door.
Mason exited the hospital and saw their embrace. “What the fuck is this?” he yelled, walking quickly towards them.
“Maybe I can get that autograph now,” Eric whispered to her.
“Suggest you shut up,” Emory said, then called out to Mason, “Eric was just apologizing for his behavior.”
“Looked like more than an apology,” Mason said, drawing closer.
Emory grimaced. Shit, he saw the hug. Ma
son reached them and glared down at Eric. “I thought I made myself clear on the phone that you’re not ever to put your hands on her.”
Eric, an esteemed doctor, thought it best to ignore Mason, not wanting to get in a shouting match or worse with the new Panthers quarterback outside of his hospital. “Bye, Emory. I’ll see you around. I’ll buy you lunch in the cafeteria sometime.”
Mason flashed Emory a warning look. “The hell you will!” he said, then turned to Eric, walking back inside. “You touch her, and I’ll get your scalpel and slice your balls off! You won’t be fucking Molly then, my man!” Eric disappeared into the hospital.
“Good God, Mason!” Emory slammed her car door. “You are out of control!”
“What? I come chasing after you and find you in another guy’s arms! That’sout of control.”
“Oh, don’t try to turn this around on me,” she said, poking his chest. “I just bumped into Eric. I didn’t want to talk to him. I didn’t want to hug him, either. I pushed him away. Didn’t you see that?”
“Yeah, I saw that,” Mason said, trying to calm down. “But what did he mean he’ll be seeing you?”
Emory drew a deep breath to settle herself, then explained she sometimes does photography shoots in the maternity ward at the hospital, and that she’d actually met Eric while working there, so she was bound to run into him on occasion. Mason stood still, contemplating what she’d said. His phone rang, but before he answered, he ordered, “OK, but no lunches with that cock! And you have to tell me every time you run into him!”
Emory looked at him, disgusted. She had no intention of ever having lunch with Eric but wasn’t about to let Mason tell her what to do, and there was no way she was going to tell him every time she caught a glimpse of Eric. Bumping into Eric from time to time wouldn’t be a big deal, and if she were to tell Mason, it would just cause a big fight. She didn’t want that and wouldn’t be controlled. Emory opened her door and got in her car.
Then Mason banged on her window. “That was Steven! Olivia is in early labor!”
* * *
The airplane reached cruising altitude, and Emory powered on her phone, activating the wi-fi connection and e-mailing clients to reschedule appointments interrupted by their urgent trip to Texas. She tried to concentrate but was nervous about Olivia and still aggravated with Mason. She even found herself feeling a bit sorry for Eric. No man’s balls should be threatened with a scalpel! After tending to her work schedule, she decided some music could help ease her mind.
She put in her left ear bud and attempted to put in her right, but Mason grabbed her hand before she could. “Can we talk about us, please?”
“I don’t feel like it. I’m only interested in the baby.”
“Steven said things are going well,” Mason assured her. “The labor is fine. And we’ll be there soon.”
But Emory didn’t like his calm tone. He had no idea about pregnancy, especially early delivery. She tried a second time to insert her right ear bud, but he grabbed her hand again, rubbing her knuckles.
“Carolina was a better fit for me.”
Emory pulled her hand away. “Now is not the time, Mason. Your deceit will have to wait.”
“Deceit?” Mason shook his head. “You know, most women would be flattered if a guy gave up a million bucks for them.”
“Flattered?” Emory took out her left ear bud. “That you think I’m so fragile or stupid that you have to make decisions without me?”
“Em, just hear me out.”
“No, it’s the same old bullshit as in college.”
Mason raised his eyebrows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You decided what you wanted and didn’t try to work things out with me.”
Mason sighed. “This isn’t the same thing.”
“It is,” she said, putting in both ear buds. “If there is any chance for us to make this work, you better get your shit together, and stop keeping things from me.”
Mason sat back in his chair, knowing there was no reasoning with her when she got this way. All that was important, as he saw it, was being in Charlotte with her, but she seemed intent on punishing him for it. Can’t she just see my good intentions, and leave it at that? Left with nothing else to do, Mason called for the flight attendant and ordered a scotch.
* * *
The waiting room of the maternity ward was large with a sufficient number of chairs for several families to gather. But it was now largely empty, the only sound coming from a television in the corner of the room repeating an afternoon newscast. Olivia’s parents, sitting near the entrance in a tired daze, had seen it at least seven times, while waiting for hours to hear news about their daughter.
Mason and Emory rushed inside, and her parents greeted them with a huge smile, so happy to finally have some family to talk to and also a welcome distraction from the newscast. They congratulated Mason on his deal with the Panthers and quickly were smitten with Emory, an obviously good-natured woman with a good head on her shoulders -- a welcome contrast from Mason’s soon-to-be ex-wife.
But what Mason and Emory most wanted was an update on Olivia. Her father, Noah, summed it up quickly -- Olivia seemed fine but was just taking her sweet time to deliver; they hadn’t seen Steven in several hours; and they wished there was a way to change the channel. Mason and Emory walked towards the television to try to figure it out, in the direction of a polished, older woman entering the room from the opposite side, the three of them stopping in their tracks, a mere ten yards apart. Mason hadn’t prepared for this moment; he’d been too distracted with Emory’s blow-up and Eric’s appearance, then rushing back to Texas, to think about it. He also hadn’t considered he’d have to deal with this in the presence of Emory. It was now happening too quickly, and he had no idea what to do.
His mother looked Emory up and down. I’ll be damned, “housekeeping” is her!
Mason instinctively walked toward his mother, his heart pounding and palms sweaty, and nudged Emory to take a seat. She refused, in no mood to be controlled or cast aside, but tried to harness her anger and worry to present a united front. She took Mason’s hand, and they walked the few remaining yards together. Mason hugged his mother. “Mom, you remember Emory?”
“Nice to see you again, dear,” Kathleen said, as if she were speaking to a child, Emory politely smiling in return. “Looks like I have to get you into a maternity ward to talk to you, Son.”
“Mom, let’s please not . . . .”
“And once I do have your attention, we can’t even talk alone.”
Emory bit her tongue, as Mason glanced across the waiting room at Olivia’s parents, hoping they weren’t watching his personal drama unfold. But of course they were; there was nothing else to do. “Mom, please, we can talk alone later,” he said, forcing a hopeful smile. “This is not the place.”
“Honey, I don’t trust you’ll make time for me. We have time now, at least until the baby comes.”
“I’ll make time later, Mom. And keep your voice down. I’m not even sure what you want to talk about.”
“What do I want to talk about?” she asked, her voice rising. “I want to talk about your marriage and, well, your adultery.” Emory’s mouth fell open.
“Jesus Christ, Mom!” Mason cried, waving his hands for her to lower her voice.
“Don’t add blasphemy to your sins, Son.”
Mason turned and gave a polite smile to Olivia’s parents, trying to assure them that everything was fine, then turned back to his mother. “Mom,” he whispered sternly, “there is no adultery going on here. I frankly wish there was, but there’s not, so you don’t have to worry about that. And as for my marriage, it’s been over for a long time.”
“But you’re not divorced, Son,” Kathleen said calmly. “You’re asking for problems, personally and publicly withher.”
Emory had heard enough and took a step forward. “I’m right here if you have something to say to me.”
Kathleen was more than happy to
unload on Emory and looked her directly in the eye. “You’re not good for my boy.”
“I’m the best thing that’s ever happened toyour boy, Kathleen.” Mason rolled his eyes and tried to get her to hush, but she wouldn’t be contained. Noah turned off the television, so he could hear the soap opera more clearly, his wife opening a bag of chips, as if she were watching a movie. “Ever since he left me, his personal life has been shit. For some reason, you don’t seem to care. But you should -- more than his career.” Kathleen waved her arms dismissively, a fire burning inside. “As for me,” Emory continued, “you are entitled to your opinion, but you should rethink it.”
“How dare you tell me what to do!” Kathleen barked, as Olivia’s mother fired chips into her mouth, Noah dropping his jaw and snagging a chip for himself.
“Mom, please . . . .”
“I’m telling you how it is, Kathleen. Mason is too scared to talk to you.”
“Em, come on. . . .” Mason begged, throwing up his hands in defeat.
“No, she never respected me or my career or our relationship either,” Emory snapped, then composed herself. “But I don’t give a damn about any of that. Not anymore.”
“You should care what I think!” Kathleen threatened. I can get rid of you again.
“Why? Your thoughts are mean and self-serving. I care about your son -- very much. More than you -- you encouraged him to marry a woman he didn’t love! What kind of mother does that?”
Mason stepped between them. “OK, Mom, Em, let’s walk outside. I’m sure Olivia’s parents don’t care to hear all this.”
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