Emily's Choice

by Heather McCoubrey

  “Lila,” Hope warned.

  “Back off, cousin,” Lila said, waving her hand at Hope. “She doesn’t need you coming to her rescue.”

  “Say what you want to say, Lila, and then get out of my room,” Emily snarled. Was this what Mama G meant when she said to come to her with trouble?

  “Did you keep tabs on your boyfriend today?”

  Emily scrunched up her face in confusion. “No. Why should I?”

  Hope took two steps and stood next to Emily. She shot a grateful smile in Hope’s direction and faced Lila again.

  “It seems to me that you should know that he was with me all day. We had a lovely day down by the stream. We held hands, we talked, and he kissed me good-bye when he had to go do his chores.”

  The blood drained from Emily’s face, and she grabbed hold of Hope’s hand, hoping it would stop the room spinning around her. Her knees wanted to buckle, but only sheer force of will kept her from collapsing in front of Lila.

  “What?” Emily choked out.

  “Yes, I can see you’re shocked. That’s the normal reaction one feels when they realize their perfect world isn’t. I’d say I’m sorry, but,” she laughed, “I’m not. He’s a fine catch, and it’s too bad you lost him.” She took a step and got in Emily’s face. “So much for your perfect relationship. How does it feel to finally be on the outside?”

  Hope took a step toward Lila, her hand raised. Emily tugged her back. “No, Hope,” she said hoarsely, shaking her head. “Don’t.”

  Hope turned sad eyes on Emily and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “You can leave now, Lila. You’ve done enough damage for one day,” Hope growled.

  Lila waggled her fingers in their direction and sauntered from the room. As soon as she was out of sight, Emily sank to the floor, tears streaming down her face.

  “He wouldn’t, right? He couldn’t,” Emily said between hiccups. “We’re solid. I thought we were solid? Maybe he’s been unhappy. I mean, she’s pretty—not inside where it counts—but she’s beautiful. And sophisticated. Hope?”

  Hope was shaking her head, anger flashing from her eyes. “No, Emily, you can’t believe her. Go to Jason and ask. I doubt it’s anything like what she described. She’s a snake, you know that. And likely she’s only saying this to rattle your cage.”

  “I don’t know, Hope. I just don’t know. Why would she say that though? I mean, really? Yeah, she’s mean, but that’s just,” she paused, trying to find the right word, “horrible. It’s just a horrible thing to do to someone.”

  Emily was startled out of her trip down memory lane by the voice of the captain over the loud speakers. “Attention, passengers, please return to your seats and secure your belongings. We’re coming into some turbulence, and it’s important for everyone to be safe. Again, please return to your seats and secure your belongings. I’ll let you know when we are through the turbulence.”

  Just then, the plane dipped and Emily gripped the armrests. She closed her eyes and counted to ten, then twenty, then thirty. They were going to crash; she just knew it. Panic welled up inside her and all she wanted was to be back on the ground, safe and sound.

  “Emily?” Hope asked quietly, prying Emily’s hand off the armrest and holding it tightly in her own. “Emily, it’s okay. It’s just turbulence. We’re safe, I promise.”

  Emily grimaced and kept her eyes closed. “How do you do this all the time? Every time the plane dips, my stomach ends up in my throat.”

  “I’m just used to it. It’s just pockets of air that push against the plane’s wings, and once we’re through them, we dip back to where we’re supposed to be. I promise we’re safe and the plane won’t crash.”

  Emily nodded, eyes still shut tight. “I couldn’t sleep, you know. I went back to the beginning. To the start of the rumors. To the start of her taking him away.”

  “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

  “One of us needed sleep,” Emily said wryly. “I went to him, time and again. Every time there was a new rumor or a new story from her. I would go to him, like he told me to, and he would promise there was nothing going on.”

  “I know. He was good at relieving your mind.”

  “He really was, wasn’t he? God, I was so naive. So stupid.”

  “No, you loved him. And you wanted to believe in him. To believe he was the man you thought he was.”

  “I should have known, though. All those rumors, Hope. All the whispers. All the side glances and conversations that suddenly stopped when I walked in. I should have known he was just playing me.”

  “They were both playing you. I would have bet my modeling contract on those rumors not being true. I mean, it was Lila we were talking about, how true could they be?”

  “All the way, true.” Emily released the armrest and wiped a tear from her cheek. “I’m going to kill Tyler when I see him. Why didn’t he warn me?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I passed him outside on my way to Jason’s. He told me that he’d delivered Jason to his bedroom himself. Said that Jason was hammered, and Tyler wasn’t sure if Jason would even realize I was there.” Emily sniffed and wiped another tear from her eye. “I just giggled and said it didn’t matter. I’d just snuggle with him.”

  “He better hope Dad doesn’t find out he was the last one to see Jason. He’ll get just as much of an earful as Jason’s gonna get,” Hope said grimly.

  “Why wouldn’t he tell me, though?”

  “He probably didn’t see her. This is Lila we’re talking about. No doubt she was hidden in the shadows or behind the door or in the closet.”

  Emily nodded. “The thing that really gets me, though, the part that just makes me want to vomit is that I placed my faith in him. Time and time again. Every new rumor that cropped up, we’d discuss it. He insisted that I come to him if ever I was feeling low. And I did. Often. All my trust. All my faith—I poured it into him. And now, I feel so empty. Bereft. Just plain wiped out. How idiotic was I?”

  Hope shook her head and squeezed Emily’s hand. “You weren’t, Em. You weren’t. He’s the idiotic one.”

  “Yeah. But he’s not the one running away, is he?” She squeezed Hope’s hand and let go. Staring out the airplane window, she tried to turn her brain off and nap. But between the turbulence, which never let up, and the memories, sleep was elusive. Thirty minutes before they were to land, she fell into a fitful sleep, dreams of dragons and snakes terrorizing her. When Hope nudged her awake minutes later, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to deplane on her own. She was bone weary, and all she wanted was to escape the pain and sleep for a week.

  After collecting their luggage, Hope led her to the parking garage and her bright yellow Jeep Wrangler. Despite her exhaustion, Emily stared, wide-eyed, at the vehicle. It was not what she was expecting, considering Hope’s wealth.

  “Surprised,” Hope laughed.

  “A little,” she admitted, sheepishly.

  “Ha. You can take the girl out of the desert, but you can’t take the desert out of the girl.” She opened the trunk and stored their luggage in the back.

  “I expected a BMW or something.”

  “Yeah, and I thought about it. But this felt right, and I love it. I don’t drive often or far, so comfort isn’t really a big deal for me. And it reminds me of home,” she said wistfully.

  Emily grinned and hopped up, albeit with some difficulty considering her girth, into the passenger seat. With curious eyes, she stared out the window as they drove through the streets of Boston. She’d never been east of the Rockies—really hadn’t been anywhere outside of New Mexico—and she was amazed at all the shades of green. There was grass and trees and flowers—everywhere it seemed. The buildings rose tall against the sky. People were bustling here and there, in a hurry to get where they needed to go. Cars crowded the streets and horns shattered the air, a testament to their drivers’ frustrations. She was awestruck and intimidated by the sheer volume of activity happening around her. It was a different world
compared to the shades of brown that she was used to at home.

  “This is us,” Hope said, pulling into the parking garage beneath her condo building.

  “I think it’ll be an early bedtime for both of us,” Emily said, smiling as she patted her belly.

  “For sure but food first.” Hope parked in her spot, and they gathered their things. She led Emily to the bank of elevators. When they entered, she pressed the button for the thirtieth floor.

  “Thanks, Hope,” Emily said softly, emotion making her eyes water and her lower lip tremble.

  “Anytime, sis.” The elevator pinged and they rolled their bags out of the elevator. Hope led them down the quiet, carpeted hall and then opened the door to her condo. “Welcome home, Emily,” Hope said, holding the door open so Emily could pass through first.

  “Hope, it’s gorgeous!” Emily breathed. She rushed to the wall of windows in the living room and looked out onto the view before her. It was amazing. Back home, when she was riding her horse and out on the ranch, she could see for miles. But that couldn’t compare with what she saw now.

  “How do you get anything done? I’d sit here and look out these windows all day!”

  “I thought that at first, too. But as time goes on, the view is the view. It doesn’t change. Much like the views at home.” Hope laughed.

  Reluctantly, Emily turned away from the windows. “I’m starving.”

  “Follow me. I’ll show you your room, and then we can order some food.” Hope led Emily through the condo, pointing out the obvious areas. “This is you, unless you like the room across from it better. But this one has a nicer view.”

  The room was larger than Emily’s at home and decorated in creams and deep purples. Emily fell in love with the color scheme immediately as purple, in any shade, was her favorite color. “This is wonderful, Hope. I love it!”

  “I’m glad.” Hope laughed, swiping her fingers across her forehead in mock relief. “What do you feel like eating?”

  “Anything.”

  Hope laughed. “How about pizza and a movie?”

  “Sounds wonderful,” Emily said and unzipped her suitcase. “I’m going to take a quick shower. I feel grimy.”

  “Bathroom is across the hall.”

  “Perfect.”

  Chapter Four

  God, his head hurt. No, hurt was too tame a word for what was going on inside his head. Squinting, he searched for his clock. The glowing numbers were a tad too bright for his bloodshot eyes, and before he squeezed them closed against the brightness, he read six thirty. Groaning, he buried his face in the pillow. What the fuck? Who does this to himself? He was supposed to get married today. How could he marry the love of his life when he felt like total fucking shit? He wasn’t even going to be able to keep his eyes open, the light from the sun was going to split his head in two . . . if the noise didn’t do him in first. Just a groan had him clutching his head to keep it from littering blood and brains all over his bed.

  If he ever felt better, which was a big if considering the amount he’d had to drink to feel this bad, he was going to kill his friends. Slowly and painfully. They deserved no less.

  He crawled out of bed, staggered to the bathroom to relieve himself, and took two Advil. Using the wall as a crutch, he slowly made his way back to his room, and shucking his shirt and jeans, he slid under the sheets. He just needed twenty more minutes, time enough for the Advil to kick in and take the edge of this torture off.

  Rolling over, he gingerly opened one eye. Bright sunshine scorched his retinas, forcing him to slam his eyelid closed. Yep, the sun was going to be the death of him today.

  “I don’t care how late the bastard got in last night. Go wake up that cheating, no good, selfish asshole you call a son!”

  “Now hold on, Clint. I think you’re overreacting. Jason loves Emily . . .”

  “If you won’t go get him, I will!”

  Jason bolted upright at the sound of the heated argument downstairs. He flung the blankets away and fumbled with the doorknob. Three stairs from the bottom he came face-to-face with Emily’s father.

  “You son of a bitch,” Clint greeted him, fists raised.

  Jason, hands outstretched, stopped short on the stairs and looked over Clint’s shoulder to his father. That was his first mistake. Clint coldcocked him in the jaw, knocking Jason back against the railing.

  “What the fuck?” Jason growled, jumping up and curling his hands into fists. He didn’t want to punch Emily’s father, he liked and respected him, but what the fuck was going on that Clint was storming into their house and punching him in the face?

  Jason’s father wrapped his arms around Clint’s shoulders and pulled him away from Jason. “Let’s talk about this, Clint. Beating my son isn’t going to solve the problem.”

  “What problem?” Jason asked. “What’s going on?”

  “Like you don’t know, you little maggot.”

  Jason breathed through his nose, counting to ten silently. “Sir, I like and respect you immensely, but I’m not going to stand by for much longer while you call me names and punch me in my own home.”

  Jason watched as Clint visibly took a moment to calm down.

  “Let’s move this into the kitchen. There’s coffee and whiskey there,” Joe said. He pushed Clint toward the kitchen and looked back at his son. “Go make yourself decent, boy!”

  Jason looked down and saw he was just in his boxers, his junk hanging out. Rolling his eyes, he trudged back upstairs, working the kink out of his jaw. Clint may be old, but he was still as strong as an ox. The man packed a lot into that punch, and he’d be lucky if there wasn’t a bruise on his face for the wedding this afternoon.

  He pulled on a pair of pants and glanced at the clock. Ten o’clock? Jesus! He must have fallen back to sleep. Last he remembered was waking at six thirty. Shit! There were less than five hours until the big deal and he had so much to do. Why the hell had his father let him sleep in so long?

  He was so screwed; Emily was going to kill him. He should have picked up the cake an hour ago. He still needed to get a haircut and pick up the boutonnieres. Maybe he could sweet-talk Gina into picking them up when she picked up all the bouquets.

  Hell, this was not the way he wanted to start the rest of his life.

  He stopped short in the doorway of the kitchen. Clint was glaring in his direction, and his father was standing by the sink with a cup of coffee. He looked up when Jason entered the kitchen and shook his head.

  “What’s going on?” he asked to the room in general.

  “Emily is gone,” Clint announced.

  “Gone? What do you mean gone? Gone where?”

  “Away, as in, she left because you had a naked woman in your room last night.”

  Jason pulled himself up to his full height. “I most certainly did not!”

  “You calling my daughter a liar?” Clint said, taking a half step in Jason’s direction.

  “Sir,” Jason said uneasily, “I was out with my friends last night. They brought me home drunker than I’ve ever been in my life. They carried me to my room because there’s no way I made it up there by myself. I passed out and woke at six thirty this morning, alone, my head pounding and feeling as low as I’ve ever felt in my life. I fell back to sleep until I heard you two down here arguing. There is no woman in my room—feel free to go up and check it out if you’d like.”

  “Just because there isn’t one there now, or when you woke at six thirty, doesn’t mean there wasn’t one last night. Emily saw it with her own eyes.”

  “Why didn’t she say anything?”

  “What would she have said? She’s devastated and gone.”

  “Well, where did she go? I’ll go find her and explain.”

  “I don’t know where she went. I just know there isn’t going to be a wedding today, and I’m this close to murdering you, boy,” Clint said, holding up his thumb and forefinger, which were centimeters apart.

  “Who does know where she is?”

>   “Grace, but she’s not telling.”

  “What about Hope?”

  “Hope is with her,” Clint said.

  Jason pulled out his phone and dialed Emily. Straight to voicemail. Trying again, he raised his eyes to Clint’s when it went straight to voicemail for the second time.

  “Sir, I promise you I did not cheat on Emily. I don’t know what she saw, I don’t remember a damn thing from last night. But I know me, and I know how I feel about your daughter. I would never cheat on her. Never. I swear I will fix this.”

  Running up the stairs to his room, he grabbed the first shirt he saw, threw on his sneakers, all the while searching his room for clues. He didn’t see any women’s clothing, no condom wrappers, no evidence in the trash, nothing.

  Why would Emily lie to her parents about this? Did she have cold feet? Was she nervous? Didn’t she love him anymore? He had to get to the bottom of this. Their future was on the line.

  Chapter Five

  Several hours later, he returned home, discouraged, defeated, and in pain. His epic headache from overindulgence never went away—fear and worry replaced it. True enough, Emily was nowhere to be found. Grace wasn’t giving up the location, and neither was Emily’s best friend, Gina. He hadn’t been able to locate Phoebe, Emily’s other best friend, either.

  He sat at the kitchen table, mind spinning, trying to come up with an idea of where she could have gone. He’d called the hotel they were supposed to stay at tonight in Santa Fe before they left for their honeymoon. He’d been to Gina’s house, Phoebe’s house, Emily’s house—all to no avail. In fact, Clint had glowered from the door, and Jason had decided not to press his luck by demanding entrance. He assumed if Emily had been home, Clint would have said something then.

  He’d searched all her favorite haunts and had driven to Santa Fe to do the same kind of search there. They’d spent four years there for college, and she’d racked up plenty of favorite spaces.

  He hadn’t been able to find her anywhere, which left only a few other options. She drove, flew, or took a bus out of town and who knows where one of those options took her. She was with Hope, which meant the world was their oyster. With Hope’s trust fund, they could, and apparently had, disappeared, and no one would be the wiser until one of them wanted it. Neither Hope nor Emily was answering their phones, and Jason felt like his body was trying to escape his skin. He felt helpless and despondent and unsure what his next move should be.