“I’m thirteen weeks. Just started my second trimester. Due in February.”
Emmy concentrated on doing the math. Four weeks in a month, four goes into thirteen more than three times…. “You’re already over three months? Didn’t, like, Katie Holmes and Jennifer Garner announce it to the American public when they were a couple months gone? And my own sister waits until she’s in her second trimester?”
“Em, it killed us not to say anything, but we desperately wanted to tell you in person. I wanted us all to be together, face-to-face, with the cute T-shirt….” Izzie looked stricken with worry; as tears pooled in her eyes, it made Emmy want to cry herself.
“No, Izzie, don’t. I’m just kidding, I promise! I love the way you told me. It wouldn’t have been the same over the phone,” she raced to say as the tears streamed down her sister’s face. With only a moment’s hesitation for Kevin’s sake before remembering he was practically her brother, Emmy ripped her own tank top over her head and pulled on the new WORLD’S BEST AUNTIE top. “Look,” she said, turning to show Izzie, noticing that Kevin had all-too-politely averted his gaze. “I love it. I love that you’re having a baby! I love, love, love the way you told me. I love you so much, Izzie. Come here, for fuck’s sake, and hug me again!”
Izzie sniffed, wiping a tear from her cheek. “It’s the hormones. I’m all over the place these days.”
“She is.” Kevin nodded.
“Never mind about that. Let’s celebrate! I’m taking you guys out tonight for the best dinner in Miami. Where should we go? Joe’s Stone Crab?”
Kevin took a nap before dinner while Emmy and Izzie spent nearly two hours huddled together, hashing out every detail of this new development. Yes, they were going to find out the gender whether they wanted to or not because they’d inevitably want to see their own ultrasound and both, obviously, knew how to read them. No, they hadn’t talked about any names yet, although Izzie loved Ezra for a boy and Riley for a girl. They discussed the adorableness of giving girls boys’ names and how irritated their mother would be if the baby wasn’t named after her own parents. Emmy asked Izzie to describe the baby’s current developmental stage and Izzie conked out midsentence.
Emmy pulled a blanket from the hallway closet and covered her sister. Poor thing must be exhausted! Pregnant and working thirty-six-hour shifts and the excitement of telling your sister the big news. As she snuggled up to Izzie and closed her eyes, Emmy could barely contain her own thoughts. Yes, of course she was so excited Izzie was having a baby. Little Isabelle, who sucked her thumb until she was eleven and was deathly afraid of spiders and was so incredibly, brutally, undeniably tone deaf that the whole family used to beg her not to sing in the shower, was going to be someone’s mother. The little girl who had always mimicked Emmy’s mannerisms and begged to be included in her plans would soon be giving birth to her own child. It was almost too weird to comprehend. And when the thought crept in—however fleeting it was—that her younger sister was having a baby and she, Emmy, didn’t have so much as a boy she liked e-mailing, well, she pushed it right out of her head. There was no place for that kind of selfish thinking, not when you wanted to support your sister and be the best aunt possible. No, she simply would not allow herself to go there, period.
Kevin gently shook them both awake. “Weren’t you two supposed to wake me?” he asked, switching on a lamp.
Izzie buried her head under the blanket and moaned. “What time is it?”
“It’s almost eleven, and I don’t know about you, but there’s no way I’m motivating to go out to dinner now.” He leaned down and kissed Izzie on the forehead. “Sweetie? You want to come to bed?”
“Aarrgh” was all Izzie could manage.
“Ditto,” moaned Emmy. She spent sixty-five hours a week in restaurants and always welcomed the idea of staying home. It just wasn’t relaxing to walk into a restaurant—any restaurant—as a customer. Her brain kicked into manager mode and she couldn’t help but count the staff-to-patron ratio, observe the efficiency of the bartender, determine how quickly the management was turning over the tables. It was easier just to stay in and forage for something in the fridge. But then she remembered. “Ohmigod, you’re having a baby!”
Izzie laughed and kicked her sister in the ribs. “Yeah, we really weren’t kidding about that.”
“One look at your chipmunk cheeks and it all came rushing back,” Emmy grinned.
“Bitch.”
“Cow.”
Kevin held up his hands in surrender. “I’m out of here. Izzie, just close down the place when you come to bed, okay?”
Izzie turned to Emmy. “Would you hate me for going to sleep now? I know it’s, like, practically noon for you, but the all-nighter last night sort of killed me.”
Emmy sighed dramatically and shook her head in mock disappointment. “Just because you’re pregnant and working round-the-clock shifts delivering babies all night isn’t an excuse, you know. Fine, I guess I’ll survive on my own for the next eight hours.”
Izzie poked Emmy and hugged her. “I’ll be more fun tomorrow, I promise.”
They tossed Emmy a couple of towels and vanished seconds after saying good night, a move Emmy didn’t find entirely unwelcome. She was still a little groggy from her nap, but remembering Izzie’s pregnancy made her jittery with nervous energy. Grabbing her cell phone and the latest Elle, she rode the elevator to the ground floor and exited the back lobby to the building’s dramatically lit and landscaped pool area. Except for two guys in their twenties drinking beer and playing backgammon at one of the far tables, the place was blissfully deserted, so Emmy rolled up her capris and flopped down next to the hot tub, exhaling as she dunked her feet in the steamy water.
She dialed Leigh.
“God, I’m glad to hear from you,” Leigh said after picking up on the first ring.
“Why? It’s a perfectly good Friday night and you’re engaged to one of the hottest guys I’ve seen in the flesh. Don’t you have better things to be doing?”
“Russell’s younger sister—the swimmer—is in New York for the weekend, so he stayed at his place with her tonight.”
“Got it. That’s the one you like, right?”
Leigh sighed. “Relatively speaking, yeah, I guess. She’s adorably sweet and friendly and outgoing and all-around nauseatingly perfect. She’s pretty much exactly like the other one.”
Emmy listened to the familiar sound of Leigh popping a piece of Nicorette from its foil packet and biting into it. She could almost feel her friend’s relief. “Better that than some passive-aggressive bitch who’s going to make your life a living hell. You could do much worse for sisters-in-law than annoyingly friendly,” she said.
“True. But I need something to complain about.” Pause, chew, chew. “What’d you do tonight? Oh, wait, I forgot—aren’t you in Florida?”
“I sure am. It’s Africa hot here.”
“How’s Izzie? It’s been forever since I’ve seen her.”
“Izzie is…” Emmy debated how to tell Leigh. She knew she should sound more excited—hell, she was excited—but something about the late hour and the hot water, combined with the shock of hearing Izzie’s news, had exhausted Emmy. She was genuinely thrilled for Izzie and delighted with the idea of becoming an aunt, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was about to cry.
“Emmy, is she okay? Is everything all right?”
The sound of concern and sympathy in Leigh’s voice triggered something; within moments the tears were coursing down her cheeks.
“Emmy, seriously, talk to me. What’s going on with you?”
“Oh, Leigh, I’m a horrible person,” she sobbed. “Disgusting. Vile. Loathsome. My only sister, my best friend on earth, is pregnant, and I can’t even be happy for her.”
“Izzie’s pregnant?” Leigh asked in her serious voice.
Emmy nodded and then remembered she was on the phone. “Sure is. Due in February. They find out what it is next month.”
“
Oh, Emmy,” Leigh said. “I want to say ‘congratulations’ and ‘I’m sorry’ at the same time, so I can only imagine how you feel.”
“Of course I knew they would start a family eventually; I just didn’t think it would be now. Leigh, she’s my baby sister!”
“I know, I know,” Leigh soothed her. “Just don’t think for a single second that you’re wrong in anything you’re feeling. Of course you’re happy for her, but it’s understandable that you’d have mixed feelings about it. Anyone would, especially in light of everything that’s happened with Duncan….”
This is precisely why Emmy had called Leigh instead of Adriana or—perish the thought—her mother.
“I come down here and spend three straight hours talking about all these stupid failed flings of mine—literally, droning on and on about how I can’t bring myself to sleep with strangers—and Izzie is starting a perfect family with her perfect husband at the perfect age. What’s wrong with me?” The plaintiveness in her own voice made Emmy start crying all over again. This pity party felt good and, if she gave herself a little slack, deserved. She resolved to be nothing but supportive and wildly enthusiastic in front of Izzie, but that didn’t mean she had to fake it for Leigh.
“Emmy, darling, there’s nothing in the world wrong with you. You and Izzie are just at different stages right now. It’s purely a timing thing—it has nothing to do with who you are as people. And of course I have no doubt that you’re going to be a great aunt and sister, but more than that, I just know that you’re going to find a great guy, too. A perfect guy. Okay?”
“Okay.” Emmy sighed. She pulled her feet from the Jacuzzi, rolled her pants up even higher, and plunged them back in. “Distract me. Tell me what’s going on with you.”
It was Leigh’s turn to sigh. “Not too much. Oh, wait, actually I’m lying. Guess who I met last night?”
“Give me a hint.”
“Adriana has him pegged as her future husband.”
“You met Tobias Baron? Oh my god! Tell me everything! I didn’t even know he called her.”
“I know, she’s been a little weird about this one. Quiet. Almost like she’s worried about jinxing it. I guess he went home to LA for a couple weeks and is now back in New York. They went out for the first time last Wednesday, and then again with Russell and me last night, and check this out—she still hasn’t slept with him.”
Emmy gasped. “No!”
“Really.”
“So what’s wrong with him? Adriana has never, ever gone out with a successful, famous, good-looking guy and not slept with him—and on two dates, no less. Like, ever.”
“I know.” Leigh laughed. “I think she might be taking this whole bet you two made seriously, because it didn’t seem like there was anything drastically wrong with him. He was charming in that slightly smarmy Hollywood way, but not offensive. Polite, engaging, and definitely into her.”
“And her?” Emmy asked.
“She appeared to worship him. We all went to a late dinner at the Odeon and I’m not sure why we bothered. The two of them couldn’t stop nuzzling each other.”
“That’s so great,” Emmy said automatically, supplying the expected response. Of course she should be happy that her commitment-phobic friend had found true love, just like she should be thrilled that her sister was having a baby. But the shoulds weren’t translating to reality.
“Yeah, well, we’ll see. She’s going to LA to see him next weekend, so that’ll probably be the deal-breaker. She’ll screw it up then for sure.”
“Leigh! That’s not very best friend–like of you.” Emmy feigned outrage but was actually delighted.
“Yeah, well, kill me. We both know that girl, and we know she’s nobody’s wife. Not now, and probably not ever. It’s sweet that she wants to try, but I’m not sold.”
“Fair enough. How are you? How’s Russell?” Emmy noticed the two guys packing up their backgammon board and giving each other the not-really-touching backslap good night. The fairer one with longish hair who looked quite young gathered the two empty beer bottles and the board and walked toward the lobby. The darker-haired one, who was about five-eleven, maybe six feet, and wearing a short-sleeved white linen shirt, walked toward her.
“He’s good. Not much new to report. Our mothers have gone into full wedding-planning mode, but we’re both trying to stay out of it.”
“Clearly a good call,” Emmy murmured. She was annoyed to see the guy toss his wallet and towel on a nearby chaise and begin to remove his shirt. If the entire pool area was completely deserted, why did he have to be right next to her?
“Yeah, not so interested. Things are crazy enough at work right now, and I just found out I’ve got to go to Long Island next weekend.”
“Hmm,” Emmy said, not hearing a word. The guy stripped off his jeans to reveal navy mesh shorts beneath them, and Emmy was intrigued to see that he actually appeared much leaner without his clothes on. Some might even call him skinny, but Emmy preferred to think of him as lithe. She wondered if it was okay to describe a boy as lithe. He had a completely flat stomach and an undeveloped chest, but he was still appealing, in a John Mayer sort of way. Brooding and temperamental. Possibly even sexy, if you could get past the short-sleeved button-down shirt.
Leigh was saying something about the Hamptons and a new author, but Emmy wasn’t paying attention. She was too conscious of the guy listening to her side of the conversation, so instead she said, “Leigh, I’m just going to head inside. Can I call you in a few minutes from upstairs?”
“I’m going to sleep, so let’s just talk tomorrow. Russell is—”
“Sounds good, sweetie. Sleep well.” Emmy clicked the phone shut without waiting for Leigh’s response.
The guy smiled at her—a nice smile, she decided, although not spectacular—and stepped onto the hot tub’s top step. He lowered himself in quickly, seeming not even to notice the scalding water, and said, “Aww. Missing your boyfriend?”
She could feel herself blushing, which she hated. “No, uh, that wasn’t my boyfriend. I don’t have a boyfriend. It was my friend Leigh. From New York.”
He grinned, and she wanted to kill him, and then herself. Why did she always talk like this? Was it any of his business who was on the phone, where she was spending the night, whether or not she had a boyfriend? She knew she had serious disclosure problems, but did he have to laugh at her for it?
“Ah, got it. How is Leigh from New York?”
Emmy couldn’t tell if he was mocking her or asking seriously, and she found this unnerving. “Leigh from New York is just fine,” she said, a bit more haughtily than she intended. And then, as she wiggled her toes in the warm water and watched this boy watch her, she suddenly no longer cared what he thought. “She’s having a really busy week at work and doesn’t sound nearly as excited about her impending marriage as I think she should be. Which is strange, because her fiancé is fantastic. She just told me that our other friend has fallen head over heels in love with a famous director—and no, I won’t tell you his name, because I’m discreet like that—and it’s just so unlike her because Adriana doesn’t commit to men, she collects them. And to top everything off tonight, I just found out my sister—my younger sister—is having a baby.”
“Well, it sounds like you and Leigh from New York had a lot to talk about,” he said, looking amused but not surprised.
“Anything overly personal or otherwise inappropriate that you want to share with me?” Emmy asked.
He shrugged and waved his hands in a “what you see is what you get” sort of way. “Not really.”
“Oh, well, that’s fascinating,” Emmy said. Asshole, Emmy thought. She wasn’t the one who invaded someone else’s personal space, interrupted a phone call, and initiated conversation, was she? Emmy pulled her feet from the water and began to stand up.
“Okay, okay. My name is George. I’m in law school at UM. That guy I was playing backgammon with is my first cousin, but he’s really more like a brother. And h
e just told me that his girlfriend has chlamydia…and it’s not from him. Let’s see, what else? I only got into UM because my father pulled strings, and he never lets me forget it. And probably the dumbest thing I ever did was get married in Vegas one night when I was really, really drunk.”
Now this was more like it! He was no Paul in the intelligence department, but he was definitely amusing. Emmy laughed. “Like, Britney-style,” she said.
“Like, total Britney-style, right down to the annulment. Although possibly worse, since I’d just met this girl the night before.”
“Excellent.” Emmy clapped her hands and dunked her legs back in the water. “So tell me, George, what do you think about—”
She stopped midsentence and stared, mouth hanging open in surprise, as George seemed to materialize in front of her. Before she had a moment to think or react, he slid his body between her legs, propped his knees up on the hot tub’s bench, and placed his lips on hers. Too surprised to do much of anything, Emmy kissed him back. Instantly, she felt that long-forgotten jolt of excitement run through her, the same one she used to feel in the early days with Duncan but hadn’t felt much after the first year. It wasn’t even there with the Australian she made out with in Curaçao—a perfectly nice experience if ever there was one, but she hadn’t lost herself enough in the moment to shut down the constant internal monologue. Here, with George, her mind was magically, blessedly blank, with a single exception: She was vaguely aware, in some deep recess of her consciousness, that she had never been kissed like that before.
The gentleness lasted only a few minutes, just long enough for Emmy to lose herself entirely, and then George enveloped her in his arms, pressed his bare chest against her T-shirted one, and tugged her lower lip with his teeth. He buried his face in her neck and for a second—just a second—Emmy was pulled out of the moment and thought, My god, this is straight out of a bad romance novel. But the next minute she threw her head back in pleasure, all subtlety gone out the window, and practically begged him to keep kissing the sensitive skin on her neck and shoulders. She wrapped her legs around his waist and ran her fingers through his hair as George breathed heavily, and then, without any warning at all, lifted her butt off the cement, pulled her entire body against his, and lowered them both into the water.
Chasing Harry Winston Page 16