After they said goodnight, she hung up the phone and immediately noticed the text from Luke.
Hey
She blankly stared at the phone in her hand, her joy quickly dissipating. She remembered his words that day, how he had blindsided her so bitterly. It seemed to come out of nowhere. She had thought they were having a good time, teasing each other the way they always did, and then BAM!
He hurt her.
He told her not to call him, and there was no reason to think he didn’t mean it.
And he said he was seeing someone. She reflected on that and considered how deeply she’d been affected by that. It wasn’t strange for him to hook up with women, he had always been a bit of a player, but it was rare for him to actually date someone, like ‘date date’. In fact, she couldn’t recall the last time he had a girlfriend, certainly not since her divorce.
Admittedly, when he told her, she felt the wind being sucked out of her. She’d grown accustomed to him being around all the time, even counted on it. In the months she had been on her own he had been her rock, his constant presence giving her the confidence to go on, to find a job, to assert her independence. He made her believe in herself, encouraging her every step of the way.
But that wasn’t all of it. She looked forward to their time together. They’d been having so much fun over the past few months, playing together, exploring his world. She looked forward to each and every experience, and not just because it was fresh and exciting, but because he’d been with her. He protected her every step of the way and made her feel safe, sensual, sexy. She loved being around him.
So when he told her about Maggie, it was like the rug was pulled out from under her. It made her unsettled, anxious, irritated.
Jealous?
She sat with that realization for a moment, her gut churning with alarming, foreign emotions, her tears dangerously close to spilling. Luke was her friend, her crazy, sexy, uninhibited, playful buddy. They’d known each other forever, trusted each other. She couldn’t imagine him not being around. She knew that one day he would probably find a woman and settle down with her, but that seemed so far away, a someday sort of deal. She wasn’t ready to share him, but she had no claim on him.
So why was she feeling so territorial? Where was the jealousy coming from? It was crazy.
Emma read his message again, her heart heavy with grief. She wasn’t ready to talk to him, she had way too many feelings to sort through. Plus, he’d been such a jerk. Maybe time apart made the most sense, she thought, turning off her phone.
Chapter 35
“Sounds like an opportunity of a lifetime, Emma, how can I say no?”
Emma was sitting with Jennifer in her office, discussing the upcoming trip, still feeling torn about asking for a leave with such short notice. She had been an exemplary employee over the past several months so she was confident Jennifer wouldn’t replace her, but at the same time she respected her too much to cause her distress.
“You could say no, Jennifer. That’s why I need you to know how much I appreciate it. I’m not taking it for granted,” Emma assured, feeling overwhelmed and even a little embarrassed.
“I know that, don’t be silly. We’ll work it out, besides, your boyfriend has been very accommodating.”
Emma felt herself squirm at the word boyfriend, not comfortable with the definition. She hadn’t decided what her relationship with Arran was.
“How so?”
“Well, after he and I spoke this morning he made a whopper of a donation to the Foundation.”
“Really?” Emma asked. “He called?”
“Yes, first thing this morning, about 15 minutes before you arrived,” she gushed. “When reception told me Arran Barlow was on line two, I nearly spewed coffee all over my laptop. I had no idea why he could be calling me. When did you start dating him?”
“Dating?” Emma hesitated, not sure she wanted to say, worried Jennifer would think it strange that she was traveling halfway around the world with a man she had only known for a month. She certainly did.
“Not too long...” Emma offered ambivalently, hoping she wouldn’t press.
“Well, you must have made an impact, the man wrote the foundation a cheque for half a million dollars,” Jennifer said, visibly impressed. Emma’s mouth dropped open, shocked by the figure. She had no idea how to respond.
“So, needless to say,” Jennifer continued, “I have no objections to you taking the time
off.”
“I...um...wow!” Emma stammered, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “I am honestly speechless.”
“I just have one very important question...” Jennifer grinned, her eyes narrowing.
“Yes?” Emma choked timidly.
“Does he have a brother?”
Chapter 36
It was finally Thursday, and she was meeting Arran in two hours. He had booked a hotel room for them near the airport, due to the early morning flight. He thought it would be simpler to be near the airport, ready to go, than try and sort it all out the next morning. Emma agreed. He was sending a car for her and all her luggage. The best part about flying on a private jet was that she didn’t have to worry about bag restrictions, which suited her just fine considering she had to pack for almost a month. Like any woman, she was bringing way too many shoes and just about everything in her wardrobe, just in case.
The week had passed swiftly for Emma. It seemed as though she would never make it through the preparations in time. Thankfully, Jennifer insisted that she take the rest of the week off, happily giving her a month’s leave. Emma just tried to embrace the generosity and not over-think it. It all seemed so excessive to her, and in many ways she didn’t feel deserving, but when she tried to explain how she felt to Arran, he just dismissed it and told her not to be silly. Still, it was difficult. During her marriage, her ex had meticulously nurtured her insecurities, happily contributing limiting beliefs to the trash pile in her head, and as much as she tried to erase them, there were many things she kept recycling, self-worth among them.
She still had not spoken to Luke, and aside from the one brief text he had sent to her, she’d heard nothing from him. Throughout the week, there were moments that she considered reaching out to him but her bruised ego convinced her otherwise. Worse than that, every time she thought about him, she’d picture him having a grand old time with his new girlfriend and her stomach would churn. Of course, she had no idea what this Maggie looked like, but in her imagination she was the flawless, supermodel type.
Her feelings confused her. She’d never experienced jealousy over Luke before, so why now? They teased one another all the time. Their relationship was intricately woven with mischievous, playful innuendos, along with a healthy dose of sexual tension, but she’d always considered it harmless flirting, a fun way to inflate each other’s egos. Of course she had fantasized about him once or twice, but she never considered doing anything about it, no matter how tempting it was. It would have damaged their friendship, probably irreparably. That’s why she tucked him into the friend zone years ago. She valued their relationship more than any other and probably always would. He would be mortified to know she was feeling jealous. He spooked too easily.
She needed to make the best of her time away, use it as a pleasant distraction to sort through her feelings. She owed it to Arran and herself (and even to Luke) to get her head on straight. She and Luke would talk when she returned to Seattle, and then they would put everything behind them.
Emma found her phone on a pile of folded clothes ready to be packed. She intended to text Luke, to let him know she was leaving the country, but had not gotten around to it. She wasn’t sure he would be too happy with her decision to go away with Arran, and quite frankly, she didn’t want a lecture. In her mind, it made the most sense to wait until the last minute, so he would just have to accept it. God, it pissed her off that he said she was naive. For a guy that treated Tinder like a menu board, he had some fucking nerve!
Hey. Sorry I
didn’t respond to your message. I’ve been busy. Just wanted to let you know I’m leaving in a few hours for a holiday with Arran in case you’re looking for me. Leaving the country, I’ll be back in 3 weeks or so...
Don’t worry, I packed my own band-aids...
Frowning, she reread the message several times, before deleting her last sentence. The last thing she wanted him to think was that she was brooding. She sent it before she could change her mind, then added:
Can we talk when I return?
Emma tossed her phone on the bed and went to her closet. She wanted to look sexy for
Arran and hoped for a special night, especially since their last one had been cut so short. She slipped a red dress off the hanger, a modest but sexy wrap-around that revealed just the right amount of cleavage and thigh. She smiled to herself, fantasizing how long it would take for her dress to be crumpled up on the floor once Arran had her alone in a hotel room.
Her phone chirped and she felt her heart skip a beat, certain it was Luke. She walked slowly to the bed, trying to discern whether it was nerves, or need, that made her weak in the knees, neither option pleasing her. She sat on the edge of the mattress, reaching for her cell.
The text was from Arran. She frowned ever so slightly, ashamed of her obvious disappointment. She quickly brushed it away, afraid to acknowledge what that meant.
Darling, the car will be downstairs at 6:30. I have already arranged for check-in. I know I said I would be there to greet you but I won’t be joining you until 8:00. I have work to finish up. Please, make yourself comfortable. I’ve ordered food to be brought up to you.
Emma shrugged and tossed the phone down again, frustrated that he wasn’t meeting her there. She knew he was a busy man but it wasn’t the first time his work had kiboshed their plans. And it probably won’t be the last, she thought.
She shook off her frustration, quickly pushing down her concerns. What did it matter if he was a little later than he promised? They would have plenty of time together on the trip, she reflected hopefully, desperately trying to convince herself.
Chapter 37
“You’ve spent the whole week miserable, fretting over that pretty gal, and you’re just going to let her leave without so much as a word from you? Forgive me Luke, but if I agreed with you, honey, we’d both be wrong.”
Luke frowned at Jane impatiently, then looked at her husband for back up. He had shown up at their door an hour earlier, seeking moral support, a safe place to bitch and unload his frustration. Unfortunately, the fifteen-year-old scotch Paul had poured him was being more supportive than Jane.
“Why should I call her when she’s running off with a man she knows I despise, to do God knows what, for who knows how long? She’s being impetuous. I’m right about this. You see that, don’t you Paul?”
Paul shrugged passively and sipped his scotch, knowing better than to disagree with his wife. Jane snorted derisively and shook her head.
“Boy, do you wanna be right, or do you wanna be happy?”
“I want both,” Luke smirked, avoiding a cuff to the head. She was a southern firecracker, and even more so when she was passionate about something.
“Well I wanted big boobs without having to pay for em!” she chirped, expressing her point with a playful squeeze to her breasts.
“You didn’t pay for them, Paul did,” Luke goaded, drawing a chuckle from his buddy, “and stop trying to distract me.” Jane glanced at both of them and sneered, feigning exasperation.
“That’s not the point,” she grinned, “and you know it.”
“It’s just that she keeps making the same stupid, fucking mistakes over and over. First with her husband and now this guy. I mean, what the hell does she see in him?”
“Is that what you’re really upset about, Luke? That she’s making a mistake?” Jane asked evenly, easing herself onto the sofa beside him. He looked at her skeptically, wondering where she was leading him. She raised her brows insolently, indicating he was right to speculate.
“This woman, your friend, who has just been through a difficult divorce, who had been ignored and mistreated for years by a husband who was supposed to care for her, has the audacity to be captivated by someone who is attentive to her? Spoiling her? A man who finds her irresistible and is not afraid to show it? Is that the stupidity you’re referring to?”
Luke opened his mouth to speak then closed it again quickly. He glanced at Paul, but receiving no support, looked back to Jane and shrugged.
“Maybe she is being impetuous, but she doesn’t have all the facts, does she?” Jane cooed, placing her hand on his.
“What do you mean?” he whispered, knowing exactly what she meant. He suddenly felt vulnerable, exposed.
“Honey, you have loved that woman for half your life. You know it, and we know it. The only person who doesn’t know it is Emma,” she smiled, batting her lashes at him, daring him to challenge her.
“Of course I love her, she’s my friend. My best friend!” he justified, shielding himself from the truth. What if they were wrong? If he was wrong? What if he admitted he was in love with Mimi and then got cold feet? Hadn’t there been a few times that he thought he might be in love and then it just disappeared? His feelings went cold? If that happened with Mimi, he would ruin everything. He would lose her.
“No, it’s more than that,” Jane insisted.
He looked at her defiantly but she just smiled sweetly at him, refusing to retract her statement. Paul just pouted his lips and softly nodded, wordlessly encouraging him to come to the right conclusion.
“What makes you think that?” he asked, dropping his gaze, his jaw clenched.
“Oh honey, it’s so obvious. Look at the state you’re in. I consider us friends and I love you, but I would never lose my shit if I thought you were running off with the wrong gal because at the end of the day, your dumb-ass decisions don’t affect me,” she said, sharing her observation gently. “Now if it was Paul? Well, I suppose I would be fired up! Mad with passion! Irrational, even. I might even mistake jealousy for concern...”
“I am concerned...” he insisted, “Arran is not right for her!”
Jane raised her brows subtly, “because?” Luke shifted nervously, wishing she would have just let him vent.
“Because he’s just not. You don’t know him, the guy might be a narcissist. He comes across so charming and charismatic but deep down he only cares about himself. He doesn’t want Mimi.”
“And?”
Luke looked at her incredulously, “What do you mean, and...? Isn’t that enough?”
“Luke, why does it matter? It’s her life,” Jane pressed, her voice poignantly thick. Luke shook his head, and inhaled deeply, then swallowed the last of his scotch, ignoring the burning assault in his throat.
“It matters.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m fucking in love with her! I don’t want her to be with anyone else. I want to be the man who spoils her, takes care of her, makes her laugh! I want to cheer her up when she’s down, be her confidant, her person. I want to be the one who fucks her well and then spoons in behind her while we both fall asleep!” he insisted passionately, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them, words he thought he would never voice out loud. He stared at his friends, desperately trying to sort through his feelings, his breathing labored, rigid, as though he were scared to death.
But he wasn’t. He felt exhilarated.
Jane nodded, smiling at him warmly, but said nothing. They looked easily at one another for a moment, letting his confession land. Finally, he smirked at her, embarrassed and grateful all at once. Paul leaned forward and poured a splash or two of scotch into his empty glass, then added more to his own. He may not have been a wordsmith, but Paul always knew exactly the right thing to say. Luke tipped his glass to his buddy and took another swallow.
Jane reached out for his free hand and stared him straight in the eyes, challenging him. “So, what are you going to do abou
t it, Honey?”
Chapter 38
As promised, Arran had pre-ordered the room service, and they sent it up to her twenty minutes after her arrival. Although it was not a meal she would have chosen, she ate it anyway, appreciating the gesture. She’d been jonesing for a cheeseburger and wished she could have just called room service herself. She even thought about returning the Beef Bourguignon Arran had selected but she didn’t want to seem ungrateful.
But now it was after nine, and Arran had still not arrived. Emma paced restlessly around the room, trying not to be cross. She didn’t want to be charged up and irritated when he walked through the door, but it was getting more difficult to ignore her annoyance with every passing minute.
Exhausted, she sat on the bed and yawned, mindful not to wrinkle her dress. Running around all week had finally caught up with her, and she considered taking a quick nap. She was about to surrender to her fatigue when she heard a commotion in the hallway. The lock on the door chirped and Arran walked in, towing the porter behind him. The young man was carrying Arran’s overnight bag and nothing more. She stood up, her irritation quickly replaced with relief, pleased she was no longer alone.
But Arran didn’t acknowledge her. He was on the phone, talking some sort of strategy with someone who seemed to be annoying him. He gestured to the porter to set his bag down, fished a bill out of his pocket, placed it in the lad’s hand, then waved him out. All in one fluid, dismissive motion. The porter nodded at Emma pleasantly and she smiled back, appreciating the inclusion. With the phone to his ear, Arran shooed him out again, ushering him to the door, then closed it firmly behind him.
Emma could overhear Arran’s discussion and didn’t get the sense it was winding down soon. She tried to catch his eye, but he wouldn’t look her way, too absorbed in his conversation. She sat down in one of the wingback chairs, crossing her legs in front of her. She’d saved the room service wine, wanting to wait for him, but her patience was thinning. She poured herself a glass, leaving his empty, and raised it to her mouth. He looked her way and held up a finger, either gesturing her to stop or signaling he would only be a minute longer. She hoped it was the latter, she wasn’t in the mood to take orders. She willfully took a sip, displaying her displeasure. He frowned, quickly shifting his gaze away.
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