Cross Check (Marriage Contract #1)

by Colleen Masters

  “Oh?” Cooper shoots back, “Is that why you missed our conference call with New Zealand this morning? Because you take this work so seriously?”

  I watch as the color drains out of Emerson’s face. For the first time since we woke up this morning, he falters.

  “Damn,” Emerson murmurs, sitting up in his chair, “New Zealand. I forgot. Cooper, I’m sorry. I just—”

  “Just what?” Cooper cuts him off. “Overslept? Blew it off? What explanation could you possibly have? You’re my right hand man in Europe, Sawyer, but that doesn’t mean you can just come and go as you please. I thought you were committed to your position here.”

  “I am,” Emerson insists, “It was just a mistake. Look, Abby and I have been having a pretty strange week—”

  I wince as I’m brought into the conversation. Cooper raises an eyebrow looking at me.

  “A strange week?” he says flatly, “Miss Rowan, has your first week here been so prohibitively strange that you’ve just decided not to come into work at all?”

  “I. I’m not,” I stammer, “It’s a really long story, Mr. Cooper.”

  “I’m listening,” he says, training his eyes on me.

  I look over at Emerson, who nods for me to go on. I draw a deep breath and continue.

  “I probably should have mentioned this right after my interview,” I begin, meeting Cooper’s steady gaze, “But Emerson and I aren’t exactly strangers. We, uh, know each other from high school, actually. And when I ran into him that first day, even after our interview went so well, I was going to turn down the job because of that. I was afraid things might be...difficult.”

  “So you know each other from when you were kids,” Cooper replies, “Why would that mean you had to turn down the job?”

  “We didn’t just know each other,” Emerson cuts in, “We were...Our parents were together, for a while. They were even married, for a very short time.”

  Cooper’s eyes cloud over as he looks back and forth between us. “But the talk in the office has been...And you showed up here together this morning...” he blusters, looking more disturbed by the second, “I was under the impression that there was some sort of romantic relationship happening between you?” For once, even Emerson is silent as we stare at Cooper. Our boss shakes his head, unable or unwilling to put the pieces together. “But you can’t be seeing each other, then. Not if your parents—”

  “It’s complicated,” I say quietly, my fingernails digging into my palms.

  “That’s not the word I would have used,” Cooper scoffs.

  “Hey,” Emerson jumps in, “You don’t have all the details, Cooper.”

  “And believe me, I don’t want them,” our boss says quickly, shoving a hand through his hair. “What I want is for you two to tell me what the hell I’m supposed to do, here?”

  “What do you mean?” Emerson says, his jaw tensing angrily.

  “I mean, I have a new employee who can’t seem to show up for work, a senior employee who’s more interested in carrying on some perverted relationship with his stepsister than pulling his weight, and an office full of people who can’t talk about anything but the two of you!” Cooper rants furiously.

  “Emerson!” I cry out, as he lunges to his feet and towers over Cooper’s desk. In an instant, it’s like he’s eighteen again, facing off against his tormentors. His entire body is alive with powerful rage, and I’m truly afraid of what he might do next.

  “Don’t you dare presume to judge me,” Emerson growls. I watch as Cooper’s eyes bug out of his head in alarm.

  “Get out of my face, Sawyer!” our boss cries, shrinking back into his chair.

  “You don’t know the first thing about my life,” Emerson rages on, shaking, “Abby is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I’m not going to let you shit on what we have.”

  “Fine!” Cooper shoots back, “You two go off and live in whatever kind of sin you prefer, just don’t do it under my nose!”

  “Are you trying to fire me, Cooper?” Emerson growls.

  “I can’t fire you. You’re under contract. And all of the partners need to agree before terminating someone,” Cooper says, exasperated. “But I’d strongly suggest that you consider—”

  “I quit,” Emerson cuts him off, pushing roughly away from the desk.

  “Great,” Cooper shouts, “Good idea, Sawyer. Just walk away from the agency because you’re caught up on a piece of ass.”

  My vision flashes bright white as my boss’s words sink in. Before Emerson can launch himself across the desk at Cooper, I leap to my feet and block his path. I stare down at Cooper, the corners of my vision blurring with rage.

  “I am not some piece of ass,” I say, my voice clear and strong, “I was almost the best graphic designer you ever had. But you blew it. If Emerson goes, I go too.”

  “Fine,” Cooper seethes, looking back and forth between us, “Just get out before I call security on both your asses.”

  “No problem,” Emerson says, grabbing my hand. We storm out the door together, our shoulders squared.

  “Good luck, you two,” Cooper calls sarcastically after us as we march across the community work space. “Enjoy your incestuous little cabal while you can.”

  Our coworkers rubberneck to get a better view of us as we pass, but one withering look from Emerson and they all pry their eyes away. We charge down the stairs and back out into the light of day. Just a few days ago, I was walking into this office and landing my dream job. Emerson was one of the most important people in this agency. And now here we are, out on our asses. And all because we tried to make a go of being together.

  “Well,” Emerson says through gritted teeth, “Guess I was wrong about oversleeping not being a big deal, huh?”

  I open my mouth to answer, but the ringing of my cell phone interrupts me. I snatch the device out of my purse and see that Riley is calling. After her dozens of texts and calls over the course of last night, I figure I’d better at least answer once.

  “Ri, it’s really not a good time,” I say into the phone, turning away from Emerson.

  “Yeah, tell me something I don’t know,” she replies, sounding panicked. “Where the hell are you, Abby?”

  “I’m at work,” I tell her, “Or...The place that was work for a second, at least. What’s going on, Riley? Are you OK?”

  “I’ve been trying to call you all night,” she hurries on, “Abby, there were some papers delivered to the apartment last night from your grandparents’ lawyer. They’re kicking us out of the apartment, effective immediately.”

  “What?” I ask, nearly voiceless with shock. This can’t be happening. Not right now.

  “Apparently they weren’t kidding when they said you had to choose between them and Emerson,” she goes on, “They hadn’t heard from you, so they’re kicking us out. Unless you assure them that Emerson won’t be a part of your life, that is.”

  I’m silent for a long moment, just watching as the other people on the sidewalk pass me by. Then, for lack of a rational response, I start to laugh. Wildly. Emerson looks at me as if I’ve sprouted a second head, but his confusion only sets me off further. This can’t all be happening to me. And yet, here it all is, landing in my lap in a heap.

  “Have you totally lost it?” Riley asks me over the phone.

  “It’s possible,” I cackle, gripping my sides, “It’s very possible.”

  I should have known better than to feel sunny about my twenty-sixth year. In a matter of hours, I’ve managed to lose my new job, my apartment, and the only family I have left. Every stable thing I’ve muscled into place has disappeared.

  “Abby?” Emerson says, as I let the phone drop from my ear. “Why don’t we head home now and talk all this out?”

  “Home,” I repeat, my voice going hollow on me, “I don’t think I have one of those anymore, Emerson.”

  “What?” he asks, his brow furrowing.

  “I’ve been evicted. By my grandparents,” I tell him, wond
ering at the statement even as it leaves my lips.

  “I don’t understand. Why would they do something like that?” he asks, outraged on my behalf. “You’re their granddaughter.”

  “Cooper isn’t the only one who disapproves of us being together,” I reply, “My grandparents forbid me from seeing you after the other night. They said I could either be a part of their lives, or a part of yours.”

  I watch the news sink into Emerson’s mind. His outrage softens as he understands what I’ve sacrificed for him. And why losing my job now is such a huge deal.

  “Well. You can borrow my home, then,” he says, the hardness draining from his voice as he drapes an arm over my shoulder. “Everything’s going to be OK.”

  I let him guide me back through the Lower East Side. I feel shell-shocked, blindsided. Like every bit of context organizing my life has fallen away all at once. Or at least, every bit of context besides Emerson himself. For now, just having him by my side is enough. We can figure out the rest along the way.

  Chapter Seventeen

  * * *

  After I’ve made sure that Riley isn’t going to be left out in the cold tonight, I settle in for a long, befuddled evening at Emerson’s place. The hours creep past as I try to process everything that’s happened, and what I’m supposed to do now. Emerson and I are both out of a job, I’m out of a home, and he’s bound for Europe at the end of the week. So much for that bright, shiny future I’d been so optimistic about.

  Emerson spends about an hour on the phone with Cooper and the other Bastian partners when we get back to his loft. They argue incessantly, trying to hammer out a truce. No one at that company wants to see Emerson leave, least of all Emerson. But with everything that went down between him and Cooper this afternoon, I don’t see what other choice there is.

  For my part, I spend the better part of the afternoon absentmindedly patting Roxie’s head and trying to work up the nerve to call my grandparents. Surely, they’re just bluffing. They don’t actually expect me to bend to their will and never see Emerson again.

  Or do they?

  “Well,” Emerson sighs, emerging from his bedroom having hung up on the hour long conference call. “They’ve backed off the whole firing-me front. Now it’s just a matter of whether or not I want to back off the I-quit front.”

  “So?” I ask, as he sits down beside me, “What do you think you’re going to do?”

  “For starters,” he says, brushing a lock of hair out of my face, “I’m going to open another bottle of wine. Helps me think.”

  He offers me his hand and pulls me off the couch, towing me back to the kitchen island.

  “Have you talked to your grandparents yet?” he asks me, selecting a bottle of Merlot to start with.

  “No,” I say faintly, burying my face in my hands. “I don’t know what the hell I’d even say to them.”

  “Say they’re a couple of assholes, who should fuck right off,” Emerson shrugs, fetching a wine opener.

  “I don’t want them to fuck off,” I exclaim, “They’re my family, Emerson. Why can’t you understand that it’s important to me?”

  “Maybe because I know just how badly family can mess you up,” he replies, popping out the cork.

  “You think I don’t know that?” I ask.

  “If you do, you seem to have forgotten,” he remarks, taking two wine glasses down from the cupboard.

  “Maybe I’m just not ready to give up on my family so easily,” I say without thinking.

  Emerson pauses with his back to me, his shoulders going stiff. “What is that supposed to mean, Abby?” he asks, his voice deathly quiet.

  “Just that I’ve never been the type of person who cuts and runs on the people who care about her,” I say, wavering in my stance.

  “And I am?” he asks, irate as he turns to face me. “I was my mother’s nurse for years while my father was away. I’d probably still be taking care of her, if she’d ever gotten well enough for outpatient treatment again.”

  “I know, Emerson,” I say, edging away from his rage. After the flare of anger I saw go through him at the office today, I don’t want to provoke him any further.

  “For fuck’s sake, I had to raise my mother, rather than have her raise me,” Emerson fumes, clutching the edge of the counter. His knuckles go white with the force of his grip.

  “I didn’t mean to upset you,” I tell him, trying to keep my voice calm, “I know how much you sacrificed for your mom. But you know better than anyone how painful it is, having your family not be there for you. Cutting my grandparents out of my life should be easy, but it’s not for me.”

  “It’s not like they’re giving you much of a choice,” Emerson says.

  “I just have to figure out a way to get through to them,” I say shaking my head, “Without this job, I’m going to need a place to stay, at least for a little while.”

  “You have a place to stay,” Emerson replies quizzically, “Right here.”

  “I know you’re letting me stay here tonight,” I tell him, “But I mean long term, Emerson.”

  “Maybe I mean long term too, Abby,” he shoots back, his anger fading to determination.

  “What are you talking about?” I ask him, “You’re not even staying here long term. You’re going back to London at the end of the week.”

  “Only if I decide to keep my job at Bastian,” he says.

  I stare at him, jaw hanging out. “You’re not seriously considering quitting?” I ask, “That job is once-in-a-lifetime. Bastian is the best in the field. You can’t walk away from that.”

  “Sure I can,” he challenges me, stepping around the island toward me, “After the way Cooper disrespected us this morning? Why would I want to stay?”

  “No,” I say, “No, Emerson. You can’t leave that agency on my account.”

  “And why not?” he demands, placing his hands on my hips.

  “Because,” I splutter, staring up at him, “I can’t...That’s too much pressure! I can’t be responsible for you losing your job.”

  “I’m responsible for you losing yours,” he points out.

  “Yeah. But,” I stammer, resting my hands on his firm chest.

  “I was doing perfectly well before Bastian hired me,” Emerson says, “I can do perfectly well without them now.”

  “But what if you start resenting me? You know...for making you leave?” I ask, unable to meet his gaze.

  “That would never happen,” he says, turning my face toward his.

  “You don’t know that,” I insist.

  “Yes I do,” he says, his eyes flashing angrily. “I know myself, Abby. I know what I care about. And what I care about above all is you. I don’t want to work for any company that doesn’t value you as much as I do.”

  “Then what are we supposed to do, huh?” I ask, taking a step away from him.

  “Anything we want!” he exclaims, “I have enough money saved up from my first few app sales to last us two lifetimes!”

  “And I’m just supposed to be content, living off your money?” I ask archly, crossing my arms. “Remember how well that worked for my dad? And your mom?”

  “It’s not the same thing,” he says sternly.

  “I don’t see any difference,” I say, shaking my head. “My dad never had any pride in himself, because he just lived off his parents’ money his whole life. I was already headed down that road with my grandparents, but Bastian was finally going to get me on my own two feet. I need to find another job, another way to be independent, not another meal ticket.”

  “Is that what I’d be to you?” Emerson asks heatedly, “A meal ticket?”

  “Of course not!” I cry, “I love you, Emerson. I loved you when you were a penniless eighteen-year-old and I love you now!”

  “So what the fuck are we arguing about?” he shouts, slamming his fist down on the island. “It’s just money, Abby. It doesn’t mean anything.”

  “No, it—”

  “It means nothing,” he insi
sts, “You sharing my life, my resources, wouldn’t mean that you were bound to me, or that you owed me anything. It wouldn’t mean I had power over you, it would just mean...that you were here. With me. That we were in this together.”

  “Emerson, I don’t...” I whisper, trying to wrap my head around what he’s suggesting. “I don’t know how to think of money as anything but a bargaining chip. My family—”

  “Your family is fucked up, pardon my saying,” he cuts me off. “Your grandparents use their money as a weapon. But me? I’d like to use mine as a gift. A way out, for both of us. Why won’t you let me do that for you? For us?”

  “I’m just...I’m sorry...” I say, trying to blink back the tears that have sprung to my eyes. “I just need to think.”

  “Fine,” Emerson says, his jaw set.

  He turns on his heel, storms across the loft, and grabs up a retractable leash from the side table. “I know I should just be some alpha man idiot and storm out into the wind or whatever the fuck, but Roxie needs a walk.”

  The Westie goes galloping over to Emerson when he whistles. Emerson attaches the leash to her collar and looks up at me. “I’ll give you some time to think everything over. Have some wine if you like. If you want to leave before I get back and find some other way...I won’t hold it against you. Just make up your mind, Abby. You know what I want.”

  Before I can say another word, he wrenches open the front door and disappears with Roxie on his heels. I fall back against the kitchen island, letting the baffled tears stream down my face. With shaking hands, I fish out a bottle of Cabernet from the stockpile. Pouring myself a very tall glass, I let my warring thoughts pour out through my mind as well.

  Emerson is willing to leave his job and share everything he has with me. I, on the other hand, have no choice but to abandon my job at Bastian, have no place to live, and hardly any money to my name. If he and I were to start a life together now, I’d be bringing nothing to the table. Shudderingly, I remember how I felt about Deb when she showed up on the scene. I thought she was desperate, and manipulative, and a helpless dependent. How would what Emerson is proposing make me any different from her?