by Avery, Joy
Need.
Was that it? Did he need to be near her? He tossed a glance at the closed door. The question troubled him. Mainly because he knew with Emory was the last place he needed to be.
***
The following morning, Christian arrived at Emory’s place a half hour early. He refused to admit—even to himself—that the reason he’d been so punctual was because he couldn’t wait to see her again. Instead, he contributed it to the fact that, like Emory, he favored punctuality.
As he stepped onto the porch, Charles Brown’s “Please Come Home for Christmas,” greeted his ears. He rang the bell and waited. The music lowered and light footsteps grew closer and closer. When Emory eased the door open, she was still in her night clothes—a pair of hot pink flannel pajama pants imprinted with tiny snowflakes, and a white tank top that appeared a size too small. Despite her tousled hair and weary expression, she was still gorgeous.
“Good morning,” he said, focusing on her eyes and not her nipples—that beaded from the rush of cold air. At least, that’s what he assumed it was from. What else could it have been?
“You’re early.”
“Am I?” He flipped his wrist to glance at his watch. “Huh. I guess I am.” Pointing over his shoulder, he said, “I can wait in the vehicle.” For a moment, he thought she’d agree with him.
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s like two degrees out there.”
He shivered for effect. “Yeah, it is pretty cold out here.” He hoped his emphasis on here would prompt her to invite him inside.
She stepped aside. “Come in.”
When he ambled through the threshold, the first thing to hit him was the scent of cinnamon. He searched for the rustic broom he knew was the culprit. It lay on the marble in front of a crackling fireplace.
The room had changed. The red leather sectional had been replaced with two brown sofas that reclined on either end. Abstract art graced the walls. Noting the initials in the bottom right-hand corner, he said. “Did you—”
Emory’s taut nipples appeared more pronounced, causing him to lose his train of thought. Fighting his way out of the stupor and finding her eyes again, he said, “Ahm... Did you paint these?”
Emory claimed a sweater draped over the arm of a chair and slid into it. He felt like an asshole—more like a pervert—for ogling her breasts. So much for being a gentleman. Luckily, she didn’t call him out on the action.
“Yes, I painted them.”
“Wow. Nice.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re just full of all kind of creative surprises.”
“Flowers and painting are outlets for me.”
He nodded with understanding.
She pointed over her shoulder. “It’ll only take me a minute to shower and dress.”
“Take your time,” he said, scrutinizing every inch of the room.
“There’s hot chocolate on the stove. Help yourself. There are marshmallows, too.” She flashed a knowing smile.
“Homemade hot chocolate? I see you still know how to please me.” He stilled. Damn. He hadn’t meant it like it’d come out. “I wasn’t suggesting you made it just for me or anything. What I meant—”
Emory lifted her hand. “Actually, I did make it just for you. My way of saying thank you. Again.”
Before he could respond, his cell phone sounded.
Emory backed away. “I’ll let you take that. I’ll be out shortly.”
He nodded and fished his cell phone from his pocket as Emory disappeared down the hall. His grandmother’s name flashed across the screen. This should be interesting.
Chapter 6
Emory found herself in the same dire situation she’d been in the day before. Fighting her lingering attraction to Christian. Why hadn’t she gone with her first instinct and called a cab before he arrived to chauffeur her to work?
Because you’re an idiot, that’s why. What in the hell are you doing here, Emory? You know better than this. You’re not a homewrecker. But was she truly committing a crime? She glanced over at Christian behind the steering wheel. Yes. One of deep passion.
Emory released an inward groan. This man grew more and more handsome by the second. To think, all of him used to be hers. Those soft lips could once tame her with just a brush across hers. Broad shoulders that’d once carried the weight of any of her worries on them. Powerful arms that’d held her when she’d needed to be comforted—or just held close to him. Arms she needed wrapped around her now, ensuring her that everything would be fine.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
Jolting from the fact she’d been caught staring at him, she nodded and turned away from his prying eyes. Let him go, Emory. The command was as hard to follow now as it had been two years ago. Spending time with him only made it more difficult to comprehend the fact that he belonged to someone else. His presence reminded her of how good they were together. Reminded her of just how much she’d missed this man in her life.
As routine, she repeated to herself that she’d sacrificed her happiness for Christian’s. That knowledge did little to fill the empty hole in her heart losing him had created.
The words his grandmother spat at her like venom the night before Emory ended things with Christian played in her head. Recalling the woman’s harsh, cruel tone made Emory feel like that weak and broken girl who’d stood in the foyer of the St. Claire manor and lied to the man she loved. Why had she been so weak?
“Daydreaming?”
Christian’s words grounded her in present time. “Just listening to the song. It’s one of my favorites.” Of course, she really hadn’t needed to tell him that.
With the press of a finger, he increased the volume and Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas is You,” filled the cabin. He winked, then returned his focus to the road ahead.
Emory didn’t seem to be the only one with a lot on their mind. Christian hadn’t said much since they’d left her place. Something was obviously troubling him. Did it have something to do with the phone call he’d taken? Had it been Yasmin on the opposite end? If so, did hearing her voice cause him guilt for being there with Emory?
Emory lowered the volume and Mariah’s voice faded. “Are you okay, Christian? You seem preoccupied.”
He nodded slowly. “I’m good.”
The weak smile he flashed wasn’t overly convincing, but who was she to dispute. If he said he was good, he was good. “Okay.” Her focus shifted back out the window, but it didn’t stay there long. “It’s just that you seem like something is troubling you.”
Christian flashed a half-smile. “That’s cute.”
“What’s cute?”
“Your concern.”
Emory rolled her eyes away. “Whatever. Just can’t be nice to some people without them taking it out of context.” Facing him again, she said, “And for the record, I’m not concerned. I just wanted to make sure you were focused on driving. I don’t want you to run me into a telephone pole or something.”
He barked a laugh. “Well, gee, thanks for your non concern. I’ll do my very best to keep you alive. I wouldn’t want your death on my conscious.”
“Good.”
“Fine.”
She reached forward and cranked the volume on the radio. “Fantastic.”
Coming to a red light, he shut the radio off. “Do you always have to get the last word?”
She was about to say something snarky and clever, but the way Christian’s eyes raked over her face muted her. His eyes lowered to her parted lips—lingering way too long for comfort, in her opinion. The temperature inside the SUV tripled. This man was turning her into a fool for love.
Banishing the quiver in her stomach, the pressure between her thighs, and the hum in her heart, she said, “Light’s green,” in a low, yielding tone that she hadn’t meant to use.
“So it is,” he said, the road ahead reclaiming his attention.
Christian pulled away from the light and made a right onto Person Street, forcing Emory to bolt forward
in the seat. “Ah, where are we going? My shop—and car—are both in the opposite direction.”
“Breakfast. I’m starving.”
Was he serious? Hadn’t they already established that dining together was not a good idea? Did he believe that had changed? “I really need to have my car running this morning, Christian. I have to pick my mother up from the hospital. You can’t continue to chauffeur me around town. I’ve occupied too much of your time already.” And you’ve consumed far too many of my thoughts.
“Did I not mention I had your car towed first thing this morning? One of my boys owns an auto body shop off of New Bern Avenue.”
Had my car towed first thing this morning?
“He originally thought it was the battery, but discovered acid had leaked and corroded some wires. There were a few other issues, too. Major issues. When was the last time you had that vehicle serviced?”
She hadn’t. Anything other than the standard oil change required additional monies. Funds she didn’t have. Had her car towed? A vision of an astronomical bill played in her head. Lifting his phone from the center console, she pushed it toward him and said, “You should call him before he gets started.”
Christian’s brow furrowed. “Call him for what?”
“Because—” She closed her eyes briefly to steady her tone. Meeting his questioning gaze, she sighed a sound of defeat. “Because I can’t afford it, Christian.” Her pride took a hit, but she’d always been able to be honest with Christian without judgement.
“But I can. It’s already taken care of, Emory. It won’t cost you anything. Other than a few more hours with me. But if that’s so unbearable, I can rent you a car.”
“I don’t need you to take care of it, Christian. I don’t need you to take care of me. Call him.” She wasn’t good at playing the damsel in distress.
“No. You’re being ridiculous, Em.”
Emory shifted in her seat. “Call him.”
Christian laughed, but it lacked humor. “You’re still as stubborn as hell. Will you please swallow some of that pride and let me help you?”
“And you want what in return?”
Apparently, her words struck a sour note with Christian, because he veered the SUV off the shoulder so fast, she nearly suffered whiplash.
Facing her with furrowed brows, he said, “I don’t want anything in return. Is that why you think I’m doing this? Because I want something from you?”
“I don’t know what to think. Why are you doing it? Why are you being so kind to me? Just a week ago you were ready to strangle me in my conference room. Why the change?”
His jaw flexed, then relaxed. The fight she saw in his eyes fizzled, and the tension present in his shoulders relaxed.
“We loved each other once, Emory. You’re going through something. I just want to help. That’s all. Nothing more, nothing less.”
They stared at each other for a long, hard moment. If she’d wanted to say more, she wouldn’t have been able to. Not after what he’d just said. After what felt like an eternity connected to him, she turned away and settled against the seat.
A beat later, he pulled back into traffic.
“Thank you,” she mumbled. “I’ll pay you back every cent.”
“And I won’t accept it.”
Emory folded her arms across her chest and rode that way until Christian pulled into the parking lot of her favorite breakfast spot. A place she hadn’t visited since they’d split. Why here of all places?
Christian pulled into a space alongside the Citi Café, popped the gear shift into park, killed the engine, and opened his door. “Are we going to have breakfast, or are you going to just sit there and pout?”
Oh, he played dirty. He knew she couldn’t resist. Giving him the evil eye, she said, “Well, if I have to put up with you, I guess I shouldn’t have to do it on an empty stomach.”
He released a hearty laugh, then shook his head. “You don’t spare a punch, do you?”
Before he could get around to her side of the vehicle, Emory was out and moving toward the restaurant. Jesus, her legs hurt. Why had she chosen last night to go overboard with the squats? She tossed a glance over her shoulder at Christian. He was why. She’d needed some way to quiet the sexual frustration he’d caused.
Christian reached around her to open the door, but she plowed through before he could. Admittedly, she was being a brat to the one person going out of his way to help her. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate his efforts, because she most certainly did. It was that his kindness reminded her of why she’d fallen in love with him in the first place. That big heart of his. She didn’t need any more reminders that she still loved him, dammit.
The second they were inside, someone called out to them. When Emory rotated in the direction of her name, Passion Phillips, Citi’s proprietor, waddled across the room toward them. The woman was as pregnant as pregnant could get.
“Oh, my God. It’s like seeing two ghosts.” Passion hugged Emory, then Christian.
“You look amazing, Passion,” Emory said. “You definitely have a motherly glow.”
Passion rested hand against her forehead. “I look—and feel—like I’m about to explode, but thank you for the compliment.”
“How far along are you?” Emory asked.
“Six months.”
Christian’s eyes widened. “Six months? Are you having twins?”
Emory swatted him playfully.
“It’s okay,” Passion said with a laugh. “Everyone has the same reaction. No. There’s only one in the oven.”
Emory couldn’t believe Passion still had three more months to go. The woman looked over baked.
Passion rested her hands on her hips. “Where have you two been?”
Emory dreaded the question. How did she answer it? She looked to Christian for guidance, but he simply folded his arms across his chest and rocked back and forth on his heels as if he couldn’t wait to hear her response.
Luckily, before Emory was forced to craft some plausible tale, Passion was summoned to the kitchen. Emory blew out a sigh of relief.
“Sit anywhere you’d like,” Passion said, wobbling away.
“Saved by the bell,” Christian said under his breath.
She elbowed him in the ribs.
Sliding into one of the booths near the back of the restaurant, Emory immediately lowered her eyes to the menu. “I’m starving.” She could feel Christian’s gaze settled on her, but she refused to look up at him. He did that a lot, she’d noted, watched her as if he were trying to decode her thoughts.
Cautiously meeting his gaze, a hint of nervousness rippled through her. What did he see when he eyed her? Maybe he saw the woman who’d promised to always love him. Maybe he saw the woman who’d promised to always be his. Maybe he saw the woman who’d promised him a house full of babies. “Girls as gorgeous as their mother,” he’d said. “And boys as handsome as their father,” she’d said in return.
Maybe he didn’t see any of that. Maybe he saw the woman who’d lied about it all. Except about loving him forever, she told herself. That promise she’d kept. Too bad he would never know it.
“I have to ask you something, Emory. It’s been eating at me. I know it shouldn’t because it doesn’t matter, but…”
Uh-oh. Whatever it was, she was sure she wasn’t ready for it. “Okay.”
Christian rested his elbows on the table, intertwined his fingers, and eyed them briefly. Glancing up at her, he said, “What your mother said about her being the reason you…” He stopped briefly. “That wasn’t—”
Her reply was swift. “No.” Unable to get a read on his facial expression, Emory wasn’t sure if he believed her or not.
Finally, he interrupted the awkwardness.
“So, you’d really just fallen out of love with me?”
And made it that much more uncomfortable.
“Shit. Forget I said that,” Christian said. “We were a long time ago. What’s the use of dwelling on the past? We�
�ve both moved on, right?”
You’ve moved on, she wanted to say. “Yes, we have. Just think, you’ll be married soon. Not many people are so lucky to find their soul mate after only six months of dating. You should consider yourself blessed.” God, did she sound bitter? Yes. Lowering her eyes to the menu again, she said, “Their soup of the day is She-Crab. I remember the first time I ever had She-Crab soup. We were—”
She stopped abruptly, the smile the memory had elicited sliding from her face. The first time she’d had the soup was on a trip they’d taken to Kiawah Island in South Carolina. It’d also been the first time they’d made love. The weekend had been so beautiful, so perfect that it could have been mistaken for a dream. But it hadn’t been a dream. She’d pinched herself numerous times to make sure.
“Our trip to Kiawah Island,” he said.
Emory massaged the side of her neck. “Yeah.”
“That was a good weekend. Great weekend, actually.”
A cautious smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “Yeah, it was. Well, except for me running over a rock and crashing into the bushes.”
Christian chuckled. “You scared the hell out of me that day. I just knew you’d seriously injured yourself.”
“The only thing I injured was my pride. And elbow.” She lifted her arm. “My battlefield wound.”
She hadn’t expected Christian to reach across the table and glide his index finger across her scar. The sensation made her tingle all over. Withdrawing her arm, she said, “You took good care of me.”
He shrugged. “That’s what you do when you love someone.”
The words made her heart thump a little harder, her breathing a little more swallow. Unable to maintain their eye contact a second longer, she lowered her eyes back to the menu. “Every…” The words stuck in her throat. Clearing it, she said, “Everything sounds so delicious.”
“Do you ever think about us, Emory? About what could have been?”
She closed her eyes. Why would he put her against the wall like this? Did she lie and say no? Did she tell the truth and say every single day of her life? Her heart made the decision for her. Meeting his gaze, she exhaled a slow, steady breath. “Of course I do. You were my best friend.”