I also can’t leave, knowing what she’s doing by marrying my brother. The secrets and the lies and all of the manipulative control are just too much. I am sure more than ever, as I watch her cry openly at the star-crossed lovers before us, that it would be a miserable life for her.
I’m torn between the right thing and the other right thing. That’s so fucked up.
The play ends, and the short pudgy director bounds up the stairs to our seats, and asks for our opinion. Emily gushes about the performance. He seems thrilled.
“I’ll consider the sponsorship and be in touch,” I say to the man before we exit.
“Are you really going to sponsor that play?” she asks as we walk out.
“I may,” I say seriously. “I love the arts.”
“He was really excited. I hope you didn’t make him a false promise. Getting someone’s hopes up like that is not very nice,” Emily says sternly.
“I don’t break my word. I said I’d be in touch and I will,” I defend.
“You better!” Emily points her finger menacingly at me. She does her best to hold the angry face. It lasts all of one millisecond, before she breaks into a wide grin.
The rest of the day is spent meandering through the city. Surprisingly, Emily has not yet been shown the best parts.
“So, let me see if I understand you correctly.” We’re sitting on a bench across from a majestic hotel with gilded glass doors and a ridiculously beefy looking doorman. “You have never been anywhere in this city, in terms of sight-seeing, except the Empire State Building?”
She chews on the last bite of her hotdog and holds up a wait a second finger. “Nope,” she says after swallowing. “In Blake’s defense though, I have only been here for a few months.”
“Not the point,” I argue.
“Hey, how many of those old businessmen do you think are walking into that hotel with women who are actually their wives?” Emily points a finger towards the hotel, swiftly changing the subject.
“Maybe one in ten, or one in twenty,” I shrug.
“I wonder how their wives deal with that stuff. The ones that know, I mean?” she continues.
“By spending obscene amounts of their husband’s money on designer clothing and in shoe and jewelry stores, I assume. Having lived in that society for most of my life, I think they operate on a ‘don’t ask don’t tell’ kind of policy.” My brow creases disapprovingly.
“At least my life won’t end up that way. At least I hope it won’t,” she says thoughtfully.
“What would you do if it did?” I angle my body towards her, curious to hear the reply.
“It won’t,” she answers determinedly. She considers her next words carefully before finally saying, “I wouldn’t agree to living a life like that. I couldn’t. I expect Blake to be faithful. End of story. I don’t care what this society dictates,” she replies passionately.
“Okay, wow!” I hold my white napkin in front of me and wave it mockingly in surrender. “I won’t ask a question like that again. Like, ever!”
“I feel like such a hypocrite, making a comment like that while sitting here with you, without Blake’s knowledge. I’m sorry,” Emily looks away, blushing, ashamed. “Tyler, I asked Blake about why you two were fighting. He told me it was because you crashed his car.” Emily looks distressed. I’m guessing that she doesn’t believe him.
I shake my head, confirming her suspicions. “No, Blake’s never even let me so much as drive any of his cars. There was an accident, though. I thought that Blake would have mentioned the details to you.”
She shakes her head violently. Oh shit. I had unwittingly opened yet another can of worms. I had no intention of getting involved in another Blake takedown. I had already decided to embrace my position as supportive brother-in-law. But then again, there was this little divine intervention. Serendipity is turning into quite the bitch!
“Emily.” I turn towards her and stare resolutely into her eyes. “I think you should ask Blake these questions. You will always believe that I have some vendetta against my brother otherwise. I promise I will tell you the truth in anything you ask me. But I can’t answer you without seeming biased.”
A stray tear falls down her cheek.
Fuck. This is going down the shit chute real fast. “I’m sorry,” I say wiping her cheek, leaving my thumb to linger there a second more than necessary.
“You seem to be the only one who wants to tell me the truth. Maybe that’s why—” she trails off.
“That’s why what?” I ask gently.
“Nothing,” she says softly. “I’m starting to feel like I’m marrying a man I know nothing about. I could easily be one of those wives. Waiting at home for a doctor that is always working late. Except, I do love your brother.”
“Let’s get away from all this bullshit,” I say, gesturing towards the hotel, anxious to change the subject and the mood. So we walk away together. Because I couldn’t be the person to shatter her relationship. And because I didn’t want to hear her say that she loved Blake again.
Chapter 12:
Emily
I can’t separate the lies from the truth. I want to trust Blake, my future husband. My gut is telling me to believe Tyler. But do I really believe Tyler? Or is it something else? Is there a reason that I want to believe him? This fucking confusion is completely my fault. And I’m angry that I have managed to get so twisted up over this.
I should go home. Stop spending time with Tyler. It’s all getting so out of control. By it all, I mean my own mad musings and crazy feelings. Tyler shuffles me into a cab and directs the driver to our next location. My sudden change in demeanor has noticeably shifted the energy between us.
Tyler still seems hell bent on ensuring that I have a good time today, though. The cab drops us off at a park. A huge park. “Welcome to Brooklyn Bridge Park,” Tyler announces with his signature bow and sweeping arm.
“Behaving like a seventeenth century butler is gonna become the thing I remember you for if you keep doing that,” I laugh. “I’ve never been here,” I say, in awe of the huge granite boulders and benches, and oh, did I forget, the huge steel frames and concrete building blocks that make up the magnificent Brooklyn Bridge?
We walk towards a bench close to the water’s edge. “More benches,” I laugh. It’s gonna become another thing if we sit on one more bench in this city.”
“I think it already is,” Tyler shoots me a sweet smile. Blurred. The lines are so damn blurred.
“What did you want to tell me earlier?” I ask without hesitation. I’d prefer that all this information come from Tyler. His reassuring smile has a way of softening these blows that seem to keep coming at me all of a sudden. I almost wished I hadn’t asked, as I look upon the water with the sunlight shimmering across its surface. The same way it did on the beach in the Hamptons. My hand moves automatically to my lips, remembering the way Tyler’s kiss felt there that day.
I had, in response to my own guilt, dismissed the kiss as a minor event. That minor event had not ended quickly, however. I had kissed him back. He had cupped my face in his hand so tenderly. I had poured my every ounce of passion into that one small moment in time. I had been unfaithful to Blake in the worst possible way. Because I felt something. I felt every ridge of his tongue, tasted every second of our connection. And relived it over and over in my mind. I had tried so hard to erase it, but I had failed.
Tyler stares out at the water as well, a faraway look in his eye. Eventually, he turns to me. “There is no way for me to talk about Blake in a way that is positive. Or my mother, for that matter. I told you that I am not the person to ask. My opinion of them is—well, as much as I hate to admit it, unfair to both of them.”
“Then don’t try to be positive. Give me the facts. Just tell me the truth,” I say.
“Okay,” Tyler flicks a stray hair from my face with his hand. Lightly, sweetly, almost automatically. “Blake was telling the truth about an accident. He did have an accident. The day afte
r we got into it over Aria. Blake had demanded that she cut off her friendship with me. And being Aria, she had refused. She told me he lost it, and sped off in his car.”
I’m not surprised by Blake’s jealous streak. I always knew he had one.
“That was in the afternoon. That night, I had agreed to hang out with our cousin, Chayse, at a street race. Have you met Chayse?” Tyler asks.
I nod. Chayse was a great guy. He was a bad ass, and very straight to the point. I liked that. Although, he was never invited to family parties. Never invited to Sunday lunches. I got the impression that Eliza wasn’t much of a fan.
“Blake showed up, drunk. The minute he saw me, he rushed me. Chayse and a couple of our friends held him back. In his state, he slapped a wad of cash on the bonnet of his BMW and made the demand that someone race him. I guess he was trying to flex.”
The Blake I know keeps his ties in color order. This doesn’t sound like the Blake I know. Then again, that’s the reason I keep quizzing Tyler. To learn more about the Blake that I don’t know.
“With the amount of cash that he had wagered, it didn’t take long to find an opponent. Chayse had begged him not to drive, but he shook him off. So Chayse and his girlfriend, Hannah, jumped in the car. Chayse figured he could pull the wheel straight if Blake lost it.” Tyler stares off into the distance, obviously replaying the memory vividly in his mind.
His face bleaches out. “Blake took a turn too fast. He thought he could drift, but he was so drunk—” Tyler struggles to finish the sentence.
“The car slammed into a light pole. Chayse and Blake were in the front. They were knocked up pretty bad. Hannah was in the back. Without a seatbelt.”
Oh my God.
“The impact sent her flying through the windshield. She was killed instantly.” Tyler takes a long, shaky breath. “I remember how Chayse looked, bleeding from a thousand cuts to his body, when he literally fell into my hands as the paramedics pulled the sheet over her.”
I put a hand over Tyler’s. “I’m so sorry. I would never have asked you to tell me anything if I knew that this is what would come up.”
“It’s okay.” Tyler curls his hand into mine. “I knew. It took a long time, and truthfully, something like that never leaves you. But it gets easier with time. The shittiest part was, it was Blake’s fault. The rest of us had to just watch the whole thing unfold. The Gods of fucked up fortune decided to knock him unconscious.” He manages a small smile, his face still ashen.
“Is that why you hate Blake so much?” I ask.
Tyler laughs, shaking his head in frustration. “That wasn’t it. Accidents happen. It was after that. Blake was in hospital, so was Chayse. My mother held a vigil next to his bed. Then I heard her on the phone one night. Eliza had pulled some strings and somehow, Blake got off with a three-month stint in rehab and a clean record, but Chayse went to jail for a year. The police report said that Chayse was driving. They used Chayse’s grief over losing Hannah, knowing that he wasn’t in the right frame of mind to really give a damn about putting him in Blake’s place.”
“So Blake sold Chayse out,” I say, the thought of Blake, my Blake, pulling such a cold, callous and not to mention bitch move, eating at me. “And that’s why you hate them both. And that’s why they avoid you?”
“The truth is a dangerous weapon in our household, haven’t you heard?” Tyler quips sardonically. “Chayse had just lost the love of his life. And it was Blake’s fault. After that, I lost all respect for them both. I really couldn’t pretend that I was okay with the way either of them behaved. So I left.”
“Are you sure that Blake even knew what Eliza did?” I ask quietly.
“Jesus, Emily!” Tyler says, moving his hand away and glaring at me. “After all that, you still believe that your fiancée is a good guy?”
“No!” I defend quickly. “I just haven’t heard his side of the story.”
“Look,” Tyler says quietly. “I really admire how you can look for the good in people, I do. But I’m warning you, you won’t find it in the Carson family. Why do you think I prefer to make a living across international waters?”
“Tyler, I can’t just end my engagement based on speculation and hearsay,” I yell, anger rising in my gut and voice at this whole mess.
“Then don’t, but for the love of everything holy, open your eyes!” he counters desperately. He stares out at the dark water before turning back to me. “Let’s get going,” he says, standing.
I feel guilty for being so dismissive. When I look into his eyes as he waits for me to stand, I expect to see hurt, malice, something unpleasant. Instead, his eyes glisten with their usual warmth. Once again, in a moment where I felt so confused, I found clarity and comfort in them. He’s right about one thing though. If that’s what Eliza and Blake are capable of, then I won’t be able to respect them either. Ever.
We catch a cab back to the beauty salon to get my dress. Tyler pays the cab driver and waits outside. The sun is setting slowly behind the Manhattan skyline.
“Emily, I just don’t want to see you get hurt, that’s all. I promise.” Tyler says softly as we walk back to the apartment building.
“I know,” I reply, staring towards him, doing my best to manufacture a smile.
“Don’t do that.” Tyler’s brow creases with a frown.
“What?”
“Pretend that everything is okay, when it isn’t. I thought that by telling you the answers to the questions you asked, I’d be helping you. And I hate that you feel this way now because of me.”
“It’s not because of you. It was—just a lot to take in. And I need to process everything. You told me the truth. You’re the first person who has. That means so much,” I stare at him, pouring every inch of sincerity into my words.
The apartment is empty, as per usual, when I arrive back. I haven’t heard from Blake all day, which is also not at all unusual. I resolve to speak to him about the accident soon. Hear him out. My mind is almost made up. I can’t continue to live a lie. If Tyler is telling the truth… I let myself fall in love with Blake. And I have to see those feelings through, see the commitment through. Until I have solid proof, or Blake gives me a reason to leave.
“Tyler,” I whisper, staring out at the twilight sky, trying to sift through the confusion in my mind. My fingers rise to my lips, an action that has become habitual this past week. “If only I had met you first.”
Blake comes home just before ten. I’m usually asleep. I had given up waiting up for him months ago, never knowing what time he’d come home. I decide to go with the pretense of sleep. He kisses me gently on the cheek, sweeping a finger lightly across my face to sweep away the bed hair. After his shower, he falls asleep almost immediately next to me. When his breathing evens out, I sit up. The bedside lamp casts a soft glow across his sleeping body.
My eyes fall on a small, red, raised mark on his back. I lean in, my eyes tracing the scabby shape of a small serpent. A tattoo, a new one. One that’s just healing. One that I didn’t know about. I fall against my pillow, tears welling in my eyes. Do I have to believe that everything we’ve shared was a lie? That the man I once thought loved me more than life itself, is a complete and utter stranger?
Chapter 13:
Tyler
“Are you sure you want to skip it?” I say to my father through the phone, laughing.
“Tyler, I hate those things. You know that. Your mother won’t even miss me with all of the ass kissing she’ll be doing,” my father quips back. “Besides, the formal invitation says T. Carson. It doesn’t specifically say Ted.”
“So you caught Eliza out on a technicality,” I reply with a smile.
“Go, have fun. Although, I am curious Tyler. Why would you like a ticket to this charity event? You know both your mother and brother will be there. Normally, you like to be at least a hundred miles away from them at any given time.”
“Maybe it’s time I made an appearance,” I say cryptically.
“Have you me
t Emily yet?” my father asks. The mention of Emily’s name causes my pulse to race unnaturally.
“I have. She’s sweet. Way too sweet for Blake,” I say begrudgingly.
“She’s not his usual type, that’s for sure.” I love the way my father calls it like it is. “If both my sons marry women like her, I’ll be a happy man. For God’s sake, don’t ever marry a control freak like your mother.”
I laugh a short laugh. “Dad?”
“What’s on your mind?”
“Hypothetically speaking, do you think Emily and Blake will last? She doesn’t seem cut out for this life.” I ask the question tentatively. My father sees right through it.
“Tyler, I know you and your brother have had your disagreements. But the fact of the matter is that Emily is his fiancée. Willingly so. Meaning that she is off limits to you. You’re the son I can always rely on to do the right thing. And whatever it is that made you ask me that, consider how you would feel if the situation were reversed.”
“It was, once before,” I reply. “And I hate the way he treats her.”
“That may be, but remember that I said willingly? If she doesn’t have a problem with her relationship, then why should you?”
“True,” I say simply. My father and I chat for a few more minutes before I end the call.
I walk over and fall into one of my pod chairs. Emily is next door. Fast asleep. So close, and still so far away. I flick open my emails on my phone. Email after email from the travel editor I’m supposed to be currently working with in Rio. I politely reply to the last one, citing a family emergency as the cause for my delay. It is a fucking emergency. Emily marrying my brother is an emergency. A tragedy, unparalleled.
Scared of Forever (Scared #2) Page 9