Emma pressed her palms into her eyelids until she saw spots. She did not want to think about her father and some other woman. Gross! Old people romance gave Emma the creeps. Her father was fifty-seven. He was supposed to be collecting expensive cars, not notches on his bedpost.
The elevator dinged again. Emma didn’t bother looking up this time. It was probably just another stuffy old Manhattan couple. She closed her eyes and pretended to be sleeping to spare herself the pity from whoever walked by. Because no matter how fabulous Emma was dressed, there was no way to make looking abandoned before the holidays seem in style.
“Well, well. Looks like Christmas came early this year.”
Emma’s eyes flew open. She’d know that voice anywhere. And when she looked up, her heart stopped. There he was, staring at her with that irresistible smile and looking as alarmingly good-looking as she’d remembered—Will Taylor.
2
Will
Will practically stumbled when he saw Emma Rhodes sitting in the hall of his luxury apartment building. He pushed his thick dark hair back from his eyes, blinking twice to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. But there she was, as gorgeous as ever in Gucci and lip gloss. It was all very ghost of Christmas past, and Will shuddered at the painful longing she evoked. How many times had he dreamt of this moment in the past year? Too many.
Thankfully, Emma’s eyes were closed, giving Will a minute to collect himself. Although, as usual, he hadn’t really used the time to his advantage. He’d wanted to say, “You’re back. I’ve missed you. How are you? What are you doing here?” Any number of those things would’ve been better than what came out of his mouth. “Well, well. Looks like Christmas came early this year.”
Emma’s vivid green eyes snapped open at the sound of his voice. Will watched shock flare across her features, before it simmered into something like resentment. Will knew it was petty but he didn’t care. Emma had hurt him like no other girl had, and apparently his heart wasn’t ready to forgive her—regardless of it being the holiday season.
“Will?” she asked, staring at him like she’d seen a ghost. And sort of like she’d rather be anywhere else in the world right now. Good. Emma should feel bad. She stood him up at the winter formal last year. Will had stood outside the Plaza holding her stupid corsage for an hour waiting for her to show up. He’d looked like a total loser. He ended up going in with Liz Vanderveer and getting drunk on peppermint schnapps.
“What are you doing here?” Emma asked scrambling to her feet.
Will’s scorned heart hijacked his brain and snark poured out of his mouth before he could stop himself. “Not that I owe you an explanation, but I live here.”
Emma crossed her arms. “Since when?”
“Since when do you care?” he countered.
She blew out a breath. “I guess I don’t. I’m just here to spend Christmas with my father.”
Will stuffed his hands in his pockets, giving Emma a snide smile. “Looks like a fun reunion.”
Ever since Theodore Rhodes moved into the apartment next door to Will’s, he’d been waiting for Emma to come visit. But now that she was here, he was tongue-tied by the dormant hurt that smoldered in his heart.
“Are you sure you were expected?” he asked nodding to the nest of designer accessories and luggage on the floor. “You do have a reputation for not showing.”
Emma glared at him. “He’s just running a bit late.”
Will scoffed. “Ya know, that’s what I told myself at the formal last year.”
“Excuse me?” Emma asked arching her pale eyebrows.
“Whatever,” Will mumbled starting to walk away. He didn’t feel like dredging up old wounds in a hallway for anyone to overhear, but Emma called after him.
“Will, wait.”
He turned around and the pleading look on Emma’s face hit him like a punch to the gut. Shit. Why couldn’t he get over her?
“About last year . . .” she started. But something kept her from saying more, and suddenly Will didn’t think he could handle hearing more.
“Forget it,” he mumbled. “And don’t worry about your father. He probably just took Hodor for a walk. I’m sure they’ll be back soon.”
“Hodor?” Emma asked, confusion pinching her delicate features.
“Yeah. Colin’s dog.”
“Who’s Colin?”
“Tara’s son.”
Emma’s pretty face paled and her mouth hung open in a perfect O. That was not the face of someone who knew her father was living with his mistress and her son. Nice work, Will.
Emma took a step toward him, her familiar scent of vanilla sugar cookies invading his space. Emma’s vibrant green eyes sparkled furiously like slivers of cut emerald. “Tara? As in the Tara that broke up my parents’ marriage?” she asked blinking rapidly. “Does that sheet serpent live here?”
“Uh . . .” Will’s mind went blank. Being so close to Emma made it impossible to speak. She was stunning. Her long ash-blonde hair hung in soft waves over her shoulders as she moved toward Will. And despite her fury, all Will could presently think of doing was running his hands through it. He stared at Emma’s lips. They were perfectly glossed in pale pink. She pursed them in annoyance and he was instantly reminded of the pale pink rose buds in the corsage he’d bought her last year. His heart twisted and he took a step back. “I don’t know, Em. I’m not his secretary.”
Emma looked crestfallen. She bit her lip, crossing her arms. “That’s great. Just freaking great! I can’t believe this.” She turned away from Will and started pacing in front of her father’s door, muttering to herself. “My first time home . . . He doesn’t even have the decency to show up . . . He’s probably with her! He never let me get a dog! I guess I’m doomed to have terrible holidays from now on.”
Will watched Emma’s mini-meltdown in silent fascination until she started to gather her things. “Where are you going?”
“Home,” she muttered.
Will caught her arm as she tried to push past him. “You are home.”
“I meant Boston.”
“New York is home, Em.”
“Yeah, well it certainly doesn’t feel like it.”
“Look, why don’t you come to my place to wait for your father? My parents aren’t home and—”
Emma interrupted him with a shrill laugh. “I’m sorry. Are you seriously hitting on me right now?”
“What? No!”
“Oh really? The whole, my parents aren’t home routine? Good to see not everything has changed. You’re still the same old Will.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
The elevator dinged and they both turned to see Emma’s father step out, one arm around a gorgeous brunette, the other holding the mittened hand of a rosy-cheeked little boy. Will’s hand was still on Emma’s arm and he felt her go rigid.
“Emma!” her father greeted. “What are you doing here?”
3
Emma
If Emma were made of glass she would’ve shattered right there on the spot. Seeing the picturesque family scene unfolding in the elevator had stolen her breath. But when her father looked at her with a mixture of confusion and surprise, her heart broke. He’d truly forgotten about her—and she could see why. He was attached at the hip to a woman who looked like she could be Cindy Crawford’s younger sister. Much, much younger sister.
The woman who’d stolen her father certainly wasn’t the old maid Emma had been imagining. She probably wasn’t even thirty. And the apple-cheeked little boy getting sloppy dog kisses from the regal-looking golden retriever only added to the perfect family portrait—one that Emma was definitely no longer a part of.
The little boy looked at Emma as soon as her father called her by name. His blue eyes brightened and he pushed his pale, snow-covered hair from his eyes. “You’re Emma? You’re gonna be my sister!”
The super model spoke, corralling the little boy and his dog before he could make his way toward Emma. “Honey, remember w
hat we said about grown up talk? Let’s let Teddy speak to Emma first.”
Teddy? Did that woman just call her father, Teddy? As in a cute, cuddly stuffed bear? Emma’s father was Theodore Rhodes, world-renowned Wall Street mogul. No one called him Teddy.
“Emma, I’m glad you’re here,” her father announced.
“I’ve been here, Dad. For like an hour. Did you forget about me?”
“No . . . ” He glanced at the super model. They exchanged secret smiles. “It’s been a bit exciting around here lately. I just lost track of time. But come inside, we have a lot to talk about.”
“Clearly,” Emma muttered under her breath.
“I guess I’ll see you later?” Will called, startling Emma.
She’d forgotten he was still standing there. She watched him walk away, leaving her to follow her father and his strange replacement family into the apartment. Emma took a deep breath, grabbing her things. She stared up and down the empty hallway of the posh Manhattan apartment building, wondering when New York had changed so much.
4
Will
Once inside his apartment, Will leaned against the door. He couldn’t believe Emma was actually here. Her soft vanilla fragrance still invaded his senses as he replayed their conversation over and over in his mind. Why did he have to come off so arrogant and sleazy when he was nervous?
He hadn’t meant to hit on her. At least he didn’t think he had. But he couldn’t deny he still had some sort of feelings for her. Call it unrequited love, but there was unfinished business between them, and Will wouldn’t be able to get Emma out of his head until he got to the bottom of it.
He needed to figure out a way to see her again. He thought for a minute and pulled out his phone, selecting a contact under favorites and banging out a text.
Will: Hey Cran, feel like throwing a party?
Cranston: What’s the occasion?
Will: When have you ever needed one?
Cranston: Touché
Will cracked a smile, practically able to hear Cranston’s preppy drawl.
Will: Tomorrow night. The hotel.
Cranston: Done. Guest list? The usual suspects?
Will: Actually, I need you to invite our whole class.
Cranston: This just got interesting. Do tell, William.
Will could picture Cranston’s look of amusement. He didn’t normally mingle with the ‘little people,’ as he called them. But then again when your father owned one of the biggest hotels in Manhattan, everyone was the ‘little people.’ But Cranston liked to think of himself as the Gatsby of St. James, so slumming it sometimes appealed to the philanthropist in him.
Will: I’ll explain later.
Cranston: You bet your ass you will, but my priorities are on the ladies. Any special requests?
Will: Nah. I got my date covered.
Or he would rather, if Emma accepted.
Cranston: Nice. I’m feeling a martinis and mistletoe vibe. You down?
Will: Sure, whatever you want. Just send out the blast.
Cranston: On it.
Will slipped his phone into his pocket and let the utter silence of his empty apartment wash over him. He looked around the massive space with disgust, still bitter his parents had uprooted him to move to the giant flat six months ago. In Will’s opinion it was a total waste. The Upper East Side was all the same to him. Who cared that they moved two buildings closer to Central Park and had a few more square feet? They certainly didn’t need the extra space.
It was just Will and his parents who lived there. Although, lived, was quite a loose term considering his parents were away more than they were home. Will was closer to the full-time staff that cared for the palatial apartment than he was to his parents these days.
He was the youngest of five boys, with a six-year gap between his closest brother, Gabe. Once Gabe graduated and shipped off to college, Will’s parents started traveling. Each year the trips grew longer. This year, they’d hardly been home at all. He knew they didn’t need to. Will’s mother didn’t work and his father owned an international software company that allowed him to work from anywhere. But Will couldn’t help feeling slighted. It’s not that he needed looking after, but it was his last year of high school. It would’ve been nice if his parents at least pretended to care, like they had with his brothers.
Will sighed, wagering whether his parents would make it home for Christmas. Just the other day, Sharon, his favorite housekeeper, had asked him if he wanted a Christmas tree delivered in case his parents were held up. Sharon had been with Will’s family since before he was born. She was like a sudo-mom to him. And although he knew Sharon was only looking out for him, Will had stubbornly declined her Christmas tree offer.
Picking out their holiday tree was the one tradition his family had. Every year, they drove to a little tree farm upstate and picked out the perfect Christmas tree. They cut it down and everything. He knew he shouldn’t hold his breath, but Will wasn’t quite ready to let go of the last of his childhood just yet.
5
Emma
Emma’s jaw dropped when she walked into her father’s new apartment. Everything was white and silver, polished to a near blinding glare. The style was so modern it made the Museum of Modern Art look outdated. Emma was afraid to touch anything. Her heart ached for their old home. It had been cozy and warm, full of buttery leather sofas, crackling fireplaces and thick rugs you could curl up on. This place was cold, and the white marble floor reflected the feeling.
The other thing that struck her as odd was the size of the apartment. It’s not that it was small. The living room, kitchen and dining room were more than spacious, and the floor-to-ceiling windows gave an impressive view of the Upper East Side. But their old apartment had been larger. Eight bedrooms larger—as if her parents had had plans to one day fill the empty rooms with brothers and sisters for Emma. Instead, they’d filled the space with enough betrayal and resentment to cost her a lifetime of therapy.
“Emma!” The cherub-cheeked little boy tugged on her sleeve. “Do you wanna see my room?”
“Your room?” Did he live here?
“Colin, honey, why don’t we take Hodor to your room and let Emma settle in.”
The dog’s name finally registered with Emma. Hodor . . . as in ‘Game of Thrones.’ Did that mean the pint-sized progeny watched the violent HBO saga? He couldn’t be more than seven or eight. If that were the case, Tara wouldn’t be winning Mother of the Year anytime soon. She should probably start saving for therapy now.
Emma watched as Tara guided Colin and presumably, Hodor, away, leaving Emma alone with her father at last. She did a quick scan of the apartment. Only three doors led off the hallway. She assumed one was a bathroom, and that meant . . .
“Darling,” her father called from the wet bar where he was mixing a fru-fru looking vodka drink. Since when did he drink vodka? Her father drank scotch, neat. Maybe it was for Tara. It looked like something a wannabe super model would drink.
“I have some exciting news,” her father said, startling Emma back to reality—if that’s what this was.
“More exciting than your new love of the absence of color?” she asked gesturing to the blank apartment walls as she plugged in her phone to charge.
He chuckled like she was joking, then took a sip of the pink drink. So not for the mistress, then?
Emma watched as he sighed and rubbed his forehead. “This isn’t how I’d hoped to break the news to you.”
“What news?”
“Tara and I are getting married.”
“What?” Emma’s voice was barely a whisper, but her father held up a hand.
“And we’re expecting.”
“Expecting what?” A lobotomy, an alien invasion, the apocalypse?
Aside from those reasons, why the hell would Emma’s father be marrying his mistress? The woman who ruined their lives!
“Expecting a child,” he clarified with finality.
Emma blinked rapidly, tryi
ng to wake from the nightmare she was trapped in. It was an effort to stay on her feet.
“I hope I can count on you to be mature about this, Emma. It’s a joyous occasion and I’d like you to be a part of it.”
“A joyous occasion? Are you joking?”
“Not at all. I’ve always wanted more children.”
“And what, Mom couldn’t give them to you so you traded her in for a hot pair of birthing hips?”
“Emma—”
“What? It’s the truth, isn’t it?”
“That’s enough,” her father bellowed. “I expect you to be respectful of Tara and her son. They’re part of our family now.”
“What family?” Emma hissed.
“Em . . .” Her father took a step toward her but she backed away.
“Just tell me one thing, Dad. Do I still have a room here with our new family?”
His tired sigh was all the confirmation she needed.
“That’s what I thought.” She grabbed her coat and stormed out of the apartment. So much for coming back to New York!
6
Will
Will stood outside Emma’s door trying to figure out how to invite her to the impromptu party he’d forced Cranston to throw. It was the only reason he could come up with for seeing her again. He couldn’t just ask her out after a year without speaking. That would seem desperate. Not to mention how badly he’d botched their encounter in the hall earlier.
He was still stalling, perfecting his casual look when Emma came barreling through the door and slammed into his chest. His arms instinctively steadied her, wrapping around her waist. She yelped in surprise and looked up at him. That’s when he noticed the tears in her eyes.
The Boyfriend Series Box Set (Books 1-6): YA Contemporary Romance Novels Page 62
