He Loves Me...KNOT

by RC Boldt

  “Don’t worry about that. I’ve got it covered. I’ll work on her while we’re away on our honeymoon. By the time we get back, she’ll be scheduling dinner parties and my golf outings and won’t pay that job of hers any mind.”

  The blood drains from my face, a lightheaded sensation washing over me, and I place a palm against the wall to steady myself. My other hand clutches at the center of my chest, as if I’ve just been stabbed.

  “You’d better. Otherwise you can kiss that deal with my company goodbye.”

  “As I said, I’ve got it covered.” The calmness in Knox’s voice, the casual way he declares this kills me.

  Spinning around, I rush away, thankful for the thick carpeting, which masks the sound of my escape back to my own dressing room, grateful I’d shoved everyone, especially my overbearing mother, out, citing that I needed some quiet time alone.

  Once I’m safely inside, I lean back against the door, dragging in heaving breaths to try to get air into my burning lungs. Knox’s handkerchief remains clutched in my fist as thoughts flit through my mind in snippets.

  Knox redirecting the conversation each time I bring up the idea of applying for the position at StyleNow Magazine after hearing through the grapevine that they’d been looking to fill some positions at their new location in north Pensacola Beach. Sure, it means I’d have to commute, but that certainly isn’t the end of the world. He suggested I stay at Southern Charm Lifestyle since it’s close to home.

  Then my father purchased the magazine shortly after I’d begun working there. I know he did this to try to execute more control over me.

  Next is the home office setup Knox had made for me.

  Now my eyes are opened to the fact that Knox has been placating me all along. He’s been in on it with my own father.

  He doesn’t truly love me or respect me. I’ve given my whole heart to this man who wants to cage me.

  “I can’t marry him.” My ragged whisper sounds amplified within the silence of the room, and my voice cracks with pain. “I can’t marry someone who’s lied to me all along.”

  I stare blankly at the floor, knowing that my father had attempted to stifle me and control me my entire life. Sure, I’ve rebelled here and there, in little ways, like with coloring my hair and my choice of school and degree and job. But I realize I’ve never lived. I’ve never actually experienced anything on my own. I’ve never truly stood on my own two feet and existed outside the circle of control my father held.

  But now that’s all going to change.

  With my focus on dragging in deep, calming breaths, I stare at myself in the mirror and ruminate over the day’s events thus far. Knox has been beside me from the time we’d arrived—early, at the request of my parents—and hasn’t left my side, as promised. He kept a comforting hand at the base of my spine throughout the entire conversation with my parents and granddad.

  My father’s recent hush-hush bout with prostate cancer has clearly changed him. I’d been decidedly hesitant about this encounter and with good reason, considering our past. We were interrupted by some always-early Women’s League members, but our conversation had gone much smoother than I’d expected.

  Exiting the restroom, I nearly collide with a blonde woman in a gorgeous red dress.

  “Pardon me.” I step aside, intent on rejoining Knox.

  “Emma Jane?”

  I instantly tense, and once I take a better look at the woman, I recognize her as my former best friend. With a strong emphasis on former. After I’d left, every single one of my so-called friends had separated themselves from me, including her. No doubt, that had been my father’s doing.

  “Katherine.” My eyes scan her features and it appears that she’s already had some plastic surgery done, which is surprising since she’s only one year older than I am. Pasting a polite smile on my face, I say, “You look well.”

  “Thank you.” Her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes, and just as I’m about to excuse myself from the awkward exchange, she leans forward. “You had to come back, didn’t you? Little Miss Perfect?”

  “Excuse me?” I frown in confusion and edge away from her.

  She sneers. “Did you find out the truth?”

  My parents have insisted no one knows about my father’s recent battle with cancer, so her question is puzzling.

  Switching gears, she lifts her chin haughtily. “I must know. You and that handsome football player, are y’all—”

  “Well, my stars! I dare say, my ears were burnin’.”

  Our heads whip around at the terrible imitation of a Southern accent. I gape at the sight of my best friend standing before me with Madison at his side.

  Rushing over, I wrap my arms around them. “You’re here!” Suddenly, I lean back, confusion lining my features. “Wait. How did you get in? It’s invite only.”

  Becket flashes the slow, easy grin that’s graced billboards and TV ads galore. “I’m Becket Jones.”

  With a laugh, I shake my head at him. “Well, I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Are y’all together?”

  I’d forgotten about Katherine who just piped up, directing her question to Becket and Madison.

  Becket’s expression sobers. He focuses an intense scrutiny of Katherine, who begins to fidget under his perusal. “Are you asking that question with genuine interest and not just to spread gossip?”

  The other woman manages to look aghast at his question. “Why, of course.”

  “Not,” Madison cough-mumbles.

  “Ladies.” Becket crooks both of his elbows, ignoring Katherine, and glances at me and Madison. “Shall we?”

  We link our arms with his and allow him to lead us down the hallway to join the large crowd of people mingling.

  Glancing up at him, I have to ask, “What are you doing here?”

  He winks with a warm smile. “My favorite girl needed reinforcements. It didn’t take a genius to figure that much out. So”—he nods toward Madison at his other side—“I called up Madison and we decided on an impromptu trip.”

  “Y’all are the best.” A thought strikes me, and I stop to peer up at Becket in alarm. “You have a home game tomorrow night.”

  “Right,” he agrees slowly.

  “You should be at home. Resting.”

  He tosses Madison a look of exasperation before returning his attention to me. “We’re your friends. That’s what friends do. And”—he adds—“we’re flying back tonight. I can sleep on the plane.”

  With a grateful smile, I tip my head to the side. “You know I love you both, right?”

  “Of course,” Madison answers with a wink. “Now lead me to the food because I overheard one of the ladies talking about shrimp and grits and this transplanted Yankee is intrigued about something called a grit.”

  Laughing and feeling lighter by their presence alone, I lead my two friends toward the vast array of food.

  32

  Knox

  “Didn’t realize he was on the guest list.”

  “Who?” After thanking the bartender for the glass of scotch, I turn back and take a small sip.

  “Becket Jones.”

  I choke on the smooth liquor and cough into my fist. Once I manage to get myself under control, I eye Wells sharply. “What?”

  He nods, gesturing to the right side of the room, and my eyes instantly land on the man who’s currently gazing down adoringly at my—

  Shit. What is she? And why is she looking at him that way?

  “Those two are adorable. But I can’t quite figure out how the friend fits in the mix. Maybe she’s part of it? Like a polyamorous thing?” Wells muses good-naturedly.

  I glare at him. “Not funny.”

  He shrugs with an easy chuckle. “I beg to differ.” Then he turns back to me, eyes dancing with mischief. “You look like you’re about to Hulk out.” His attention returns to the trio. “Simmer down, man. Simmer down.”

  “Easy for you to say,” I mutter and take a healthy swig of my drink. “You
’re not competing with a guy who’s lusted over by women everywhere. Envied by grown men, even.”

  “Pray tell,” Wells says, his accent growing thicker. “Are you jealous?”

  I don’t respond and simply partake in my scotch in silence.

  “You realize you’re looking at this all wrong, don’t you?”

  “How’s that?” I’m barely resisting the urge to roll my eyes.

  “You’re looking at it through the wrong lens.”

  I turn my head and stare at him like he’s got a screw loose. My friend merely waves a hand dismissively.

  “Just listen.” He tips his head in the direction of where Becket, EJ, and Madison are talking animatedly and laughing. He leans in closer to me while lowering his voice. “Watch your woman. The way she smiles up at him, the way she shoves at him when he spouts off some nonsense. Is that the way she reacts to you?”

  It takes me a moment to realize what Wells is getting at. Thinking back to last night and this morning, the way EJ interacted with me, the way she looked at me…

  “She’s affectionate with him,” Wells continues, “and it’s clear that she loves him. But not in a romantic way.”

  As I continue to study them, I suddenly realize he’s right.

  Unfortunately, I’ve also been caught staring if Becket’s wide, smug grin is anything to go by. He wraps each arm around the women on either side of him, startling them in the process, and tugs them close before laying a resounding kiss on their foreheads.

  All while holding my gaze.

  With that same damn smug-ass grin.

  Wells shakes his head with a laugh. “I’ve gotta say. He’s something else.”

  “Yeah.” My response is flat monotone.

  “And he’s got your number. Even worse.” Wells pauses. “You’re letting him.”

  With a long sigh, I toss back the remainder of my scotch. Focusing on the empty glass in my hand, I mutter, “I don’t know how to take the next steps.”

  “Easy.” My friend’s quick reply startles me. “You clear up the past.”

  When I turn to regard him, his eyes bore into mine with a heartfelt intensity only a best friend can display. One who’s been with you through your darkest of days.

  “You can’t move forward until you do that.”

  I murmur my agreement even though he’s wrong. It’s not the least bit easy when you have to clear up a past that includes eight years’ worth of pain and anger.

  Easy doesn’t even begin to cover it.

  “So you came here with my daughter?”

  I knew it was bound to happen. It doesn’t make the encounter or conversation any less uncomfortable, however.

  “Yes, sir.” I spin around from where I was appreciating a painting on the foyer wall of the mansion.

  The fact that this is the same venue where EJ and I were supposed to be married isn’t lost on me.

  Facing Davis Haywood again, this time alone, it’s staggering to witness his thinner form and the additional gray hair he now has from his bout with cancer.

  Back when the wedding ended up a bust, I distanced myself from him and his domineering ways. Mostly because I didn’t want to have dealings with him, but also because seeing him, seeing blue eyes so similar to his daughter’s, was a constant painful reminder of what I’d lost.

  He eyes me hard. “Then what are you doing here while she’s in there, being courted by that quarterback?”

  I force nonchalance. “I’m surprised you care. Especially after you disowned her and”—I tip my head to the side, wrinkling my forehead in faux confusion—“discontinued business dealings with me.” My features grow hard. “You’ve only recently admitted to your wrongdoings and to mistreating her.” I wave a hand in EJ’s direction. “She might forgive you, but I’m still not buying it.”

  Davis doesn’t even address my remarks. “You’ve always loved her. Never quite got over her.”

  I rear back slightly, barely resisting the urge to flinch at his words.

  At the truth in them.

  Forcing a bored tone, I gesture toward the crowd of people a few feet away from us in the large ballroom, attempting to redirect the conversation. “Why don’t you talk with her some more? She came all this way for you.”

  He falls quiet, and I take this as the prime opportunity to leave. I barely make it two steps before he speaks, his voice subdued.

  “I made mistakes. I won’t deny that.”

  I still at his words but don’t turn around. His admission—the emotion in his words—is jarring, especially coming from this man.

  “Eight years…getting older and then…” He trails off, his tone taking on a sudden sadness. “I regret the way I handled things.”

  I turn around and find his eyes trained on the ballroom. When I follow his line of sight, it’s centered on Emma Jane who’s entertaining her granddad, Madison, and Becket with some story. I can’t help but compare this to another time Davis’s birthday party was held here. It had been right after she and I had gotten engaged.

  At one point, I’d stood in this very spot and watched her interact with guests. I remember with such vivid clarity how people responded to her, even the elders who often scoffed at “That wild Haywood girl” when EJ had dyed a streak of blue in her hair or pierced her nose. She’d still managed to charm the hell out of anyone in her presence.

  That particular evening, she’d been chatting with Mrs. Tilman and had even managed to get the old coot to laugh. The expression on her face when the older woman had laughed at whatever she’d said had been a mix between pride and happiness. And she’d never looked more beautiful.

  No. That’s a lie. She looks even more exquisite tonight. She may have poise and confidence with this crowd, but what shines through is her kindness, her heart.

  I just wish I knew what made that heart stop loving me.

  “I’d like to thank all of you for coming tonight.” Davis is addressing a hushed crowd of partygoers with his wife, Rose, by his side, and Granddad on the other. “I’d especially like to thank my daughter, Emma Jane, for making the trip here.”

  Beside me, she jerks slightly at the mention of her name, as if surprised by it.

  Granddad edges forward to speak. “We don’t get to see much of her as her job keeps her quite busy in Jacksonville.” His mouth curves into a small smile. “But we’re blessed to have this time with her.”

  Raising his glass of champagne, he addresses everyone. “Here’s to many more!”

  After everyone toasts, conversations resume, as does the music. I set my glass on a nearby table and hold out a hand to EJ.

  “Dance?”

  Her eyes widen a fraction before she smiles and sets her own glass on the table beside mine. “I’d love to.”

  Leading her toward the center of the room, we find an available spot on the dance floor. Taking her in my arms, I can’t deny that there’s something so easy and natural about this.

  This woman has always been the only one who simply fits.

  “I saw your father take you aside, again.”

  Her solemn gaze meets mine at my mention of seeing Davis speak to her. He’d excused himself after we’d had our own chat and headed in her direction. I’d kept my distance because it appeared to be a bit cathartic for both. I would’ve stepped in if I’d noticed her appearing distressed.

  “Everything okay?”

  She nods, her expression pensive. “It was far better than I expected.” Her smile is wistful, tinged with a hint of sadness. “I might finally get a father out of this deal. A little late, but…” She lifts a shoulder in a half shrug. “And my mother and I had a good talk, too. Things are actually”—she twists her lips in a rueful grin—“kind of nice.”

  “I’m glad.” Before I comprehend my actions, my hand cups one side of her face, and my thumb grazes lightly along her cheekbone. Peering down, I find myself mesmerized by the depths of her blue eyes.

  “Did you ask them to play this?”

  Her q
uestion startles me. “Play what?”

  She appears to have surprised herself, as well. A faint flush spreads across her cheeks before she ducks her head and mutters, “Nothing.”

  I now realize that the song has changed over to Max’s “Lights Down Low.” The lyrics describe how he wishes he could stop time because he wants to bask in their love and sings of how he’d give her everything of himself.

  Eyes still averted, she mumbles an apology along with, “Ignore me. I’m delusional from lack of sleep from…yeah. And the crazy development with my father.”

  But the fact still remains. Something made her wonder if I’d requested this song. If I’d planned for us to dance to it.

  “It has been a long day.” I decide to grant her a reprieve even though she’s piqued my curiosity.

  She releases a sigh laced with a touch of melancholy. “And we have to drive back tomorrow morning.”

  I’m dying to know if she’s saddened by the thought of having to leave now that she and her father have made tentative amends or if it’s because she doesn’t want to leave me and what we’ve had here.

  If I had my way, I would keep her at my house until…

  Until she realizes she loves you again, an inner voice finishes.

  And it’s not entirely wrong, but it’s not one hundred percent right either. Because another part of me had answered simultaneously.

  Until she tells you why she left.

  The problem is, I don’t know if I’ll be able to face the truth of her reason.

  33

  Emma Jane

  “You know, you could come along with us.” Becket offers this with an odd expression. “If you don’t feel comfortable staying with your ex-fiancé.” He pauses. “In his house.”

  “I’ll be fine. But thank you.”

  “Meaning,” Madison leans toward Becket and says in an exaggeratedly hushed whisper, “she’s fine getting it on with said ex-fiancé.”

  I flash her a sharp look of warning. “Madison.”