Listed: Volumes I-VI

by Noelle Adams

  Paul gave a half-shrug, his eyes focused on the sidewalk out the window. “It’s no big deal. Why wouldn’t I come with you?”

  He was her husband. Perhaps he assumed accompanying her to parties thrown for her benefit was part of his spousal duty, but Emily was pretty sure he would have rather stayed at the house.

  “I don’t know. I mean, not everyone here understands us, you, our marriage. I guess I thought it might be kind of awkward for you. It means a lot that you're willing to come.”

  Paul’s eyes had darted over to her face, but now they shifted to window again. “It’s no big deal.”

  Emily gave up on that conversation, since he clearly wasn’t going to share anything genuine with her.

  Maybe she was expecting too much. Their marriage was only supposed to be one of convenience and sympathy, and it had already ended up placing a much greater burden on Paul than she had imagined when she suggested it.

  In the last couple of weeks, she'd come to a series of revelations about him—all of them thrilling and gratifying. She'd realized she could be there for Paul when he needed her, offering him comfort and support. She'd realized he could actually have a good time with her, be happy in a way she rarely saw him. She'd realized he was genuinely attracted to her, a revelation so shocking it had taken a whole day to process. She'd realized she was more than just a duty and responsibility to him.

  But maybe she was expecting too much in terms of emotional connection.

  Paul cared about her and was attracted to her and, for the time being, was enjoying being with her, but she was a passing phase for him. That had always been the fundamental truth of their marriage. Their relationship, whatever it was, would only last for a few months.

  Emily could invest in the marriage emotionally as much as she wanted, since she wouldn’t be alive to deal with any consequences.

  It wasn’t fair to expect Paul to invest emotionally in their marriage the way she did, though. In fact, it would be insane if he did. She couldn’t be selfish about this. She had to think more about Paul's needs than her own.

  She needed to do better about not expecting so much from him and not getting her feelings hurt if he didn’t reciprocate.

  With this worthy ambition, she resolved that she wasn’t going to let Paul’s reticence today bother her. It probably wasn’t personal. She wasn’t going to pry into his privacy or make him feel guilty about any perceived slights.

  He didn’t owe her anything. In fact, she owed him more than she could ever repay.

  So, when the driver pulled up in front of the Masons’ row house, Emily was ready to have a good evening with her friends, even with a perplexing husband by her side who refused to talk to her.

  Paul was reaching down to grab the bag of hostess gifts they’d brought for Mrs. Mason when Emily threw her worthy resolve out the window.

  “Are you sorry we had sex?” she burst out, her hand gripping her seatbelt strap, which she hadn’t yet unbuckled.

  “What?” Paul blinked at her, clearly taken aback by the abrupt question.

  Emily swallowed hard, desperately trying to read some sort of expression on his guarded face. Sometimes, it was so easy to read his feelings, but sometimes he was so unknowable she wanted to scream. “Last night,” she explained. “Are you sorry we had sex?”

  “Of course not. Why would I be sorry?” He was actually looking at her now, his gray eyes scanning her face with a strange urgency. It was definitely an improvement on his avoiding her gaze completely, which he'd been doing most of the day.

  “I don’t know, but you’ve been acting kind of…kind of standoffish today. So I was starting to worry that you…regretted it.” She was suddenly embarrassed for even bringing the subject up. “Or maybe it’s something else. I know you have a lot of other stuff going on. It might have nothing to do with me. But I just got worried.”

  “There’s nothing for you to be worried about. I don’t have any regrets about last night.”

  “You don’t?” she asked, a note in her voice that was almost a plea. “You’re sure? Because it was so…it was so special to me. But, if it wasn’t good for you, I’d understand. We can talk about it, though. You can just tell me. I’m not going to expect you to do anything you don’t want to do.” Her voice wobbled dangerously on the last few words at the thought that she might be something Paul didn’t want to do. "You won't hurt my feelings."

  “Emily,” Paul said hoarsely, sounding much more like himself than he had all day. He reached over until he was cupping her cheek with one warm hand. “Emily, that’s not it at all. It was good for me too. You must have seen how good it was for me. That’s not it at all.”

  “Then what…” She trailed off, not sure if she had the right to demand for him to tell her the truth. Commanding herself to get a grip on her spiraling emotions, she forced herself to smile at him brightly. “Okay. As long as things are okay with us, I'm good. We don't have to talk about it. Everything's fine.”

  She got out of the car, feeling too hot, a little dizzy. Her cheeks were flushed with embarrassment or some other emotion.

  Paul had gotten out of the car too, faster than she would have expected. He took her arms and pressed her back against the closed car door, gently but unwaveringly. “Emily, if you’re upset about something, then everything is not fine.”

  “It’s not?” she breathed, very stupidly. She gazed up at his tight face and intense eyes, and the sight of him that way relaxed the ache in her chest at the same time as it tightened a coil of desire between her legs.

  This was Paul. The real Paul. He hadn’t really retreated from her after all.

  Then, realizing how foolish she'd sounded, she added, "I wasn't upset."

  “Yes, you were. I’m sorry if I was withdrawn today.” He stroked her face until his hand tangled in her loose hair. “It has nothing to do with regretting last night.”

  She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “So you don’t regret it?”

  Paul leaned forward until he’d brushed her mouth with his. “I don’t regret it,” he murmured against her lips.

  With a thrill of relief and excitement, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him against her with an entitlement she’d never experienced before.

  She couldn’t believe she had the right to hold him this way, kiss him this way. She'd been his wife for a while now, but she'd never really felt entitled to him like this before.

  They kissed deeply, emotion and sensation washing in hot waves through Emily’s body. It was hard to say how long the kiss would have lasted had they not been interrupted by the sound of a car door slamming not far behind them.

  Their lips parted, and they both turned to look in the direction of the closing door.

  Emily saw Laura Mason staring at them, evidently having just gotten out of the cab that was pulling away from the curb.

  Emily eased away from Paul a little, suddenly overwhelmed by a familiar insecurity. She thought she’d grown a lot in the last few months, particularly in being more confident in her ability to attract men. In fact, just the minute earlier, she'd been reveling in the fact that Paul Marino was attracted to her.

  But seeing Laura now brought all of Emily's old insecurities back.

  Laura used to date Paul—way back when.

  He’d dated her longer than anyone else. Everyone thought he’d really fallen for her.

  But Paul was Emily's husband now. She was taking good care of him, and he seemed to be happy with her in these few months they were together.

  Laura couldn’t have him.

  “Emily,” Laura said, giving her a breathtaking smile. “It’s so good to see you.”

  “You too.” Emily forced herself to remember that Laura had always been decent to her. She pulled out of Paul’s arms, which were still draped loosely at her waist, and walked over to greet the other woman.

  Laura gave her a little hug, and then her eyes drifted over to Paul, who was standing in the background, watc
hing quietly. “Hi, Paul,” Laura said, her striking dark eyes a bit uncertain, as if she didn’t know what to expect from him. “How are you?”

  “I’m fine.” He gave Laura a strange little smile that made Emily’s gut twist even more. “How’s life treating you?”

  “Good.” Laura’s smile broadened. “Great job. Great apartment. It’s so strange to be back.” She turned to look at her family’s house.

  “Yeah,” Emily agreed. “We feel the same way.” She took Paul’s arm as they started to walk toward the door. Maybe it was petty, but Paul was hers—at least for the time being—and she wanted to make sure everyone knew it.

  Paul shifted the bag he carried into his other hand and didn’t pull away from her as they walked.

  “You look great, Laura,” Emily said, resolutely trying to be nice, to feel nice. “I love your hair like that.”

  “Thanks.” Laura brought up a hand to brush down her dark waves. “You look good too. Different, somehow.”

  “Oh, well, I’m dying, you know, so that probably explains it.”

  When she felt Paul stiffen beside her, she realized she’d let her insecurity push her into the defensive irony that had been habitual when she was younger. “Sorry,” she said hurriedly, giving Laura a sincerely apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. Thanks for the compliment. I shouldn’t be so prickly.”

  Laura’s eyes were full of pity as she smiled back. “That’s okay. I’m so sorry about…about…”

  “I know,” Emily interrupted, so Laura wouldn’t have to finish the statement. “Thank you.”

  She didn’t want Laura’s pity. She didn’t want anyone’s pity, but she knew it was unavoidable. Laura wasn’t trying to be patronizing or superior.

  It was just that Laura had always been the epitome of the princess, the blessed life that Emily had never possessed, and it was hard to fight those feelings even now.

  Emily smiled up at Paul as Laura opened the front door. Paul didn’t smile back, but his eyes were soft on her face, and he reached over to brush a strand of hair out of her face.

  When Emily looked back, she saw that Laura, Chris, and Mrs. Mason—the latter two had come to greet them at the door—were all staring at her and Paul.

  Emily felt strangely embarrassed. She used to daydream about somehow landing a fantastic man and taking him to a party where she could show off to all her friends. Paul was better in every way than the men she used to dream of, but she didn’t have any desire to show him off tonight. In fact, she’d rather no one had witnessed the little moment they’d shared just now. It had felt private. Just between her and Paul. It seemed like no one else would really understand.

  She usually wasn’t the kind of person who got embarrassed at the drop of a hat, but she felt suddenly hot as she smiled at Chris and Mrs. Mason in greeting.

  It was even hotter in the house.

  * * *

  Emily looked around for Paul but couldn’t find him.

  He’d been talking to Laura for a long time—far longer than Emily was comfortable with—but their conversation had broken up a few minutes ago.

  The party seemed to be going pretty well. Chris had been friendly and sympathetic, and she felt better about having the tension resolved between them. She was feeling surprisingly tired, though, despite it not even being nine in the evening. Plus, the Masons’ living room was too crowded, so Emily was overly warm.

  She wanted to find Paul. She supposed he’d been trying to give her some space to talk to her old friends in peace, but she didn’t want space or peace. She wanted Paul beside her. She wanted to make sure he was all right. She wanted to make sure people were treating him right and not holding against him either his father’s conviction or the fact that he’d testified against him.

  “Hey, Emily,” came a soft, feminine voice from behind her.

  Emily turned to see Laura approaching, carrying a cup of punch and smiling. “Hey. Have you seen Paul?”

  “I was talking to him a few minutes ago,” Laura explained, “but I don’t know where he is now.”

  “Oh.” Emily rubbed her hot face with her left hand, wishing she were outside where it was cooler.

  “Your ring is gorgeous.”

  Emily stretched out her hand so Laura could better inspect her engagement ring. “Thanks. I really like it too.”

  “Paul has good taste.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Are you two…” Laura cleared her throat, as if she weren’t sure how to ask the question. “Is it just a marriage of convenience? That’s what I was thinking, since it happened so suddenly and everything, but then it looked like you two were…he was kissing you and…”

  “We’re married,” Emily replied, a little coolly. “Why shouldn’t we kiss?”

  “I know. I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s just that I never thought the two of you would ever…I mean, you’re not the most obvious couple, so it surprised me that you were…”

  Emily sighed. “I know we’re not an obvious couple. But we have an understanding, and it works for us.”

  “Oh,” Laura breathed, as if she were relieved about something. “That’s good. I mean, it's good you two have an understanding.”

  “What do you mean?” Emily felt a tug of dread in her chest, although she couldn’t exactly pinpoint why.

  “I just mean I would have been worried if you’d thought Paul was in love with you. I mean, not long ago, he was really into....” She trailed off as if she were embarrassed. “I mean, he didn’t seem interested in you at all before. So it would have been hard to swallow that he’d suddenly fallen in love out of the blue. And it didn't seem like…But as long as you have an understanding, I’m sure it’s fine. I’m glad he’s helping you do all the things on your list.”

  Laura’s eyes were open and sincere, and Emily could tell she was genuinely concerned and trying to help. But, as she processed what the other woman had said, it felt like Emily’s heart had been ripped from her chest and stomped into pulp on the ground.

  Evidently, Laura had been the one to dump Paul last year, and he’d just been talking to Laura for a long time. Maybe she’d picked up some sort of continued interest.

  Not that Paul would do anything. Emily was absolutely positive about his commitment and faithfulness to her.

  But she hated—she absolutely hated—the idea that Paul might be yearning for someone else, that he’d rather be with someone other than her, even for these few months.

  She knew he was attracted to her, and she knew he cared about her.

  But love was out of the question for them, since they didn’t have a future. He could fall in love with someone else, though. Maybe he already had. Emily knew now how deeply emotions ran in Paul. If he loved someone, he would love her all the way, no holds barred.

  He was committed to Emily for these few months, but he could be biding his time to pursue a future with someone else. The future he really wanted.

  And the thought crushed her. It just crushed her.

  “Yeah,” Emily agreed, her voice weak but with at least a semblance of normality. “He’s been great. Will you excuse me? I need to find the restroom.”

  Laura said, “Sure,” so Emily was able to escape.

  She didn’t go to the bathroom. She slipped out of the hot, confining house and went out to the small yard, toward the toolshed. The evening was cool, and she breathed deeply, trying to purge herself of her silly, immature worries and resentments.

  She couldn’t be selfish. She just couldn’t. Even if he’d wanted to, Paul could never have a future with her. Their relationship had always been temporary, and so—even if she were the kind of woman he might fall in love with—he would never let himself do so.

  She would never want him to love her. It wouldn’t be fair. It would leave him wounded when she died, and she couldn’t bear the thought of that.

  But it still hurt. It still hurt to think that Paul would want to be with someone other than her. She’d thought they were happy together for
the moment.

  Her eyes were filled with tears she couldn’t quite suppress, and her cheeks burned almost painfully with emotion. Her shoulders shook a few times as she stared at the Masons' toolshed.

  She’d always been tougher than this. She’d never been so sensitive.

  Dying was really disrupting her emotional stability.

  “Emily?”

  She recognized the voice, coming from behind her, and it made her chest hurt even more.

  “Are you all right?” Paul asked, approaching her quickly.

  She fought through the emotion in an attempt to compose her face. “Yeah. I’m fine.” Her voice didn’t come close to sounding convincing.

  Paul reached her and grabbed her upper arms in both of his hands, turning her to face him. “Emily, what’s the matter? Why are you crying?”

  She hadn’t really been crying, but she was now. The concern in his voice and the urgency in his eyes broke her control, and she buried her face in his shirt and let herself cry for just a minute, releasing the coiled tension and the bewildered confusion of so many unanswerable questions.

  Paul’s arms wrapped around her immediately, tightly. He smelled so familiar—clean, masculine, faintly expensive. Like Paul. She breathed him in as she cried.

  He let her shake against him for a minute, and his arms never loosened. Finally, he murmured, “Baby, please tell me what’s wrong.”

  He’d called her “baby” last night in bed. It had felt so intimate, so possessive. It sounded that way now too, although with an entirely different resonance.

  Sniffing and trying to compose herself, she pulled her face out of his shirt. There was a damp spot on the fabric now from where she’d been crying. “I’m fine. It’s really not a big deal. I was just overly emotional or something, and I overreacted.”

  “Overreacted to what?” Paul asked, an edge to his voice she rarely heard. “Did someone do something to you?”

  “No,” she assured him, “Everyone has been really nice. It’s just…” She trailed off, self-conscious about admitting what had so upset her. She was still way too hot, even in the cool air, and now she was also feeling weak and kind of dizzy from the overload of emotion.