“So, your…friend…just slept with her married male friend and needs my advice?” Audrey said as though trying her best to distance herself from the situation.
“Yeah, pretty much.”
Audrey nodded and set down her cup.
“First thing I would tell her is that affairs with married men rarely end well,” Audrey said.
For the first time in their conversation, Emily gave her friend a cheeky smile.
“Do you have a lot of experience with that?”
Audrey slapped Emily’s arm playfully.
“You know I don’t,” she said with a chuckle in her voice. “But, I’ve seen it plenty of times. Friends of my mom, friends of friends, even my older sister once. The guys almost never leave their wives. And, even when they do, they rarely stay with the woman they left for.”
“But, what if-?”
Audrey held up a hand to stop her.
“I know your trying to convince yourself that you or…your friend…is the exception to that rule. But, trust me, you’re not. So, the best advice I can give to you or…your friend…is to go to this married guy and tell him that it was a one-time thing and it’s over now.”
Emily’s heart sank in her chest and she looked down at her coffee. Taking it in her hand, she took a long sip, hoping beyond hope that it would hide the tears that were forming in her eyes.
When she set the cup down, Audrey’s hand reached across the table and touched Emily’s. When Emily looked up, Audrey wore an understanding, sympathetic smile.
“I know it’s going to be tough,” Audrey said.
“Yeah,” Emily admitted with a mirthless chuckle. “Even harder when we’ve still got to work in the same tiny office.”
Audrey pulled her hand back and looked thoughtfully at her as though trying to imagine a work around to that problem.
“You’re still working on the book, right?” Audrey asked.
“Yeah,” Emily said. “We’ve finished the hardest section but, we’re still a ways from being done.”
“Well…do you have to be in the same room to write it? I mean, couldn’t you do it by email or something?”
Emily bit her lip and looked down at the long nails of her fingers tapping against the coffee cup in front of her. In theory, Audrey was right. She and Kurt could work on the book without seeing each other. There were a million ways to communicate now without coming face to face. Maybe all those different methods of communication were created specifically with this scenario in mind.
Logically, it made sense. But, when Emily thought about not seeing Kurt at all, her heart constricted in her chest and she found it difficult to breath let alone produce a coherent answer.
Sensing Emily’s reluctance, Audrey heaved a sigh.
“Look, Em,” she said. “I know it’s hard. I know how much you like this guy but…I just don’t want to see you get hurt. And, trust me, if you keep seeing him, you will. It’s best to cut it off now, before it gets worse.”
Emily bit down hard on her lip, lifting her eyes and looking up at her friend. The sad smile Audrey wore along with the sympathetic, wide eyed glance told Emily that her friend did, at least, have some inkling about how hard this would be.
Saying goodbye, finally and forever, to Kurt Schmidt was, Emily thought, probably the most difficult thing she would ever do in her life. Still, when she remembered how Kurt had run out on her that morning, when she remembered his reluctance to talk to her after the night they’d shared, when she thought about how much more it would hurt her to have to see him every single day knowing that, after their work, he would go home to his wife, she knew that it was also entirely necessary.
“I can’t do it by email or text,” Emily said.
Audrey rolled her eyes.
“Em! I’m telling you- “
“No, you don’t understand,” Emily said holding up a hand to stop her.
“I’m going to tell him I can’t see him anymore, but, I have to tell him in person.”
Chapter Six
The air in Emily’s little Honda Civic was growing stale the longer she sat outside Kurt’s house waiting to go in.
She hadn’t told him she was coming.
After lunch with Audrey, she’d started several texts to him but, in the end, every one of them sounded cliché. They all started with the words ‘We need to talk’. And, anyone who’s ever been through a break up can usually guess what that means.
For some reason, she didn’t want him to guess the truth right off. A part of her wanted him to have a few blissful hours where he didn’t know that she was about to walk away forever. If the shoe had been on the other foot, Emily decided, she would have been happy to have as much time as she could imagining happy ever after before reality came crashing down around her.
That, in part, was why she was still in the car. Looking out the window at that large, brown house on a ledge in the middle of nowhere, her mind couldn’t help but travel back to the night before.
She couldn’t help remembering the touch of his hand on her body or the way his lips moved across hers. Kurt shoving her against the balcony door, pushing her down onto the bed. When she closed her eyes, she could still see that passionate desperation shining out of his eyes. As though he was a starving man who had just been presented with a feast.
Shaking her head and clearing it as best she could, Emily took a deep breath and put her hand to the car door.
Time to go back to the real world, Em, she told herself firmly. With this resolve in mind, she pushed open the door and made her way up the long driveway towards the Schmidt home.
When she reached the door, and rang the doorbell, she half prayed that he would be out. That, maybe, he would still be doing…whatever it was he had to do for school.
A moment later, however, she heard footsteps moving behind the door and she knew that there was no turning back.
The door opened and Kurt’s face peered out. When he saw her, his grey eyes widened in surprise.
“Emily!” He said. “What…what are you doing here?”
“Hey,” she said pulling one long strand of curly red hair over her shoulder and twisting it around her finger like she always did when she was nervous. “Can I come in?”
His eyes grew even larger in his head and the blood drained from his face. He looked terrified. As though she were a ghost or the grim reaper come for his soul.
“I…I just thought we should talk about last night,” she said. “You promised we would and we didn’t get a chance to this morning.”
“You should have called,” he said. Blood had come back into his face but he was now glancing quickly over his shoulder back into the living room behind him. His shoulders were tense and he looked like a deer in the woods, ready to run at the first sign of trouble.
“Is this a bad time?” she asked. “I mean, do you have people over or- “
“Kurt? Who is it?”
A woman’s voice sounded from the kitchen and Emily felt the blood drain from her own face when the petite blonde woman came around the corner.
Though Emily had never met Cheryl Schmidt in person, she’d stared at her picture in Kurt’s office enough times to know her by sight. And, in the flesh, she looked even more like those models you see in clothing catalogues, the ones who have a smile permanently plastered on their faces.
The permanent smile flashed at Emily as Cheryl neared the door. Only the hint of confusion in Cheryl’s eyes told Emily that she was surprised by the presence of a guest.
“Oh…er…Cheryl, this is Emily,” Kurt said awkwardly.
“Oh, the famous Emily!” Cheryl said, her blue eyes changing from confused to understanding. “The girl who’s helping Kurt with his book! I’ve been hoping we’d get the chance to meet.”
Emily’s first thought was to say ‘you were?’. Before today, she’d never imagined that Cheryl would even know about Emily’s existence let alone consider her ‘famous’. In fact, as often as Cheryl was away, Emily had never imagined
Kurt and Cheryl speaking about much of anything. Certainly, not the book Kurt and Emily had been working on.
But, now, she realized how stupid that was. Cheryl was Kurt’s wife, after all. Of course, she would know about the book.
So, instead of responding in surprise, Emily put on the most real smile she could muster and came up with a quick excuse for her unexplained presence.
“Yes, sorry to burst in,” Emily said. “But, I was in the neighborhood and I thought I’d drop some pages off for Kurt to look over. But, if you’re busy I can- “
“Don’t be silly, come in! Come in!”
Cheryl ushered Emily through the door and past Kurt. Emily tried to meet his eye but he looked down at the floor, determinedly away from her as he closed the door.
In that moment, he didn’t look like a thirty-six-year-old college professor. In that moment, he looked like a toddler hoping his mommy wouldn’t notice that he’d taken a red sucker from the candy dish.
Emily’s stomach plummeted when she realized she was the red sucker in this scenario.
“I’m afraid I’m the one who should apologize,” Cheryl said to Emily as she guided her through the hallway towards the dining room. Emily could hear Kurt following in their wake but didn’t dare turn back to look at him. “I came back into town a couple days earlier than I’d planned. And my father and one of his business associates sort of invited themselves over for dinner.”
“I don’t know if I’d call Hamilton a ‘business associate’,” Kurt cut in from behind the women. Both turned to him and Emily saw a hint of something in his eyes when he looked at Cheryl.
This was a look Emily had seen him wear whenever a professor he didn’t particularly care for crossed his path.
When Emily glanced up at Cheryl, she saw the smile dip slightly. It almost turned into a frown before Cheryl seemed to catch it mid drop and plaster it back onto her face.
“Ok, so he’s not just a business associate,” she said. “He’s also an old friend of the family. Have you eaten, Emily?”
“Oh, I…er…no,” Emily said. If her mind had been in the right space, she might have lied or made some excuse. But, as it was, so much was happening around her that the truth was the only thing able to come out.
“Well, you’re welcome to stay for dinner, we’ve got more than enough,” Cheryl said. Emily picked up the sound of male voices conversing in low tones as they neared the dining room.
“I don’t want to intrude,” Emily said. Though she directed the statement at Cheryl, she glanced back hurriedly at Kurt. Trying to read in his face whether he wanted her to stay. His face was closed, impassive. Even those expressive eyes didn’t betray him.
For the first time in what felt like forever, Emily had no idea what he was thinking.
“It’s no trouble at all,” Cheryl said cheerily. “In fact, you can act as kind of a buffer between Hamilton and Kurt. There are times when they don’t really get along.”
“I try,” Kurt says with a slightly defensive tone.
“Sometimes you do,” Cheryl says. There’s a darkness to her tone that says this is an argument the two of them have had before. “But, either way, it’ll be nice for Kurt to have a friend to take the edge off a little.”
Emily fully expected Kurt to shoot something back about this Hamilton behaving himself. But, before he could, their awkward little trio entered the dining room. The source of the low male voices became clear immediately.
A tall, distinguished looking man with salt and pepper hair wearing a neat suit sat at the head of the table. This was clearly Cheryl’s father. Malcolm Jennings. Billionaire mogul and the little university’s largest donor.
Next to him sat a man who looked much younger but equally distinguished. He had dark blonde hair cut neatly in what Emily thought of as “the Business man’s trim” and a dimple graced his right cheek when he smiled.
The two men straightened up and stopped talking immediately when Cheryl, Emily and Kurt entered the room.
“I hope you two weren’t talking business, daddy,” Cheryl said. “We’re just about to eat.”
“Nothing important honey,” the older man said leaning back in his seat and giving his daughter an indulgent grin before his hazel eyes landed on Emily and narrowed suspiciously.
“I take it we have another guest for dinner?” he asked.
“Oh, yes! Sorry!” Cheryl said with a small chuckle moving towards Emily and ushering her towards the table. “Daddy, Hamilton, this is Emily. She’s Kurt’s teaching assistant and she’s been helping him write his new book.”
“Nice to meet you,” Hamilton said standing and moving forward to give Emily his hand. His shake was strong. Stronger than Emily was prepared for and she began to feel like her hand might break. “It’s also nice to hear that Kurt might start making some real money from those books he writes.”
Though Hamilton chuckled at that last line, Emily couldn’t help but wince. Especially when she saw Kurt’s face fall out of the corner of her eye.
“Hamilton, don’t be crass. Kurt makes enough,” Mr. Jennings said. He stood and shook Emily’s hand as well. “And we’re always happy to have someone from the college over. I know we’ve got a lot of talent over there.”
Not sure whether she should thank Mr. Jennings for that, she did her best to smile before sitting down next to Mr. Jennings and across the table from Kurt.
“So, how do you think the book’s coming?” Mr. Jennings asked her when they were seated comfortably. “I know I’ve heard good things about it from Kurt, but, I wouldn’t mind getting a female perspective.”
“It’s mostly women who read that sort of thing, right?” Hamilton said.
“I don’t know,” Emily said. “I mean, I guess more women tend to be interested in art history than men.”
“But, Vangoh” he said. “Isn’t the sensitive, tortured soul more of a soft subject? The kind women are drawn to?”
Though his tone was casual, Emily saw him give a glance and a smirk to Cheryl who was sitting next to him as he said it. She smiled back as though he’d brought up some kind of inside joke the two of them shared. Whatever the joke was, it was completely lost on Emily.
“Lots of men have written about Vangoh,” Emily said. “The folk musician, Don Maclean even wrote a song about him.”
“Oh, yeah,” Hamilton said dismissively. “Sensitive men like that stuff, I guess. But, I don’t know. I’ve always like the modern artists better. Picasso, Dali. They just seem…tougher to me. More masculine.”
At the word masculine, Hamilton shared another secret smile with Cheryl which she returned.
“I’ve always liked the moderns too,” Cheryl said. “So, it’s not only men who like tough and masculine paintings.”
When Emily glanced across the table, and saw the slight coloring in Kurt’s cheeks as he looked down at the wood table, it confirmed what she’d begun to suspect. They weren’t talking about artists or paintings. Not really.
Hamilton had started a kind of pissing contest between himself and Kurt. One which Cheryl was thoroughly enjoying and which Kurt, clearly, had no interest in joining in.
Well, if he wouldn’t stand up for himself, she would have to do it for him.
“I guess you have a point,” Emily said. “Women tend to like the interesting, nuanced and intelligent work of Vangoh and even Paul Gaugin a lot more than the brash strokes of Picasso. I think the book reflects that so far. I’ve always found the modern stuff a little shallow, myself.”
She smirked as her eyes met Hamilton’s with a sort of challenge. And, though he chuckled again at her, she noticed that he did not seem quite so bold or cocky as he did a minute ago.
“Well, I guess we can agree to disagree,” he said.
“Come to think of it,” Mr. Jennings said “Cheryl did say she didn’t want any business talk at the table. I just realized that probably applies to Emily and Kurt’s work too.”
“I don’t know if writing a book about art is exact
ly on the same par as what you and Ham are doing, daddy,” Cheryl said. Once again, Emily looked across the table and saw Kurt wince slightly at the slight.
“Still, I’m sure Emily wouldn’t mind getting off the subject of old, dead artists for a change.”
“It’s fine,” Emily said. “I can always talk about art.”
Cheryl blinked at her, fake smile still in place. Though, now it looked as though she was trying to size Emily up. Trying to decide whether Emily with her wild hair, curvy frame and no makeup might constitute a threat to her.
“Even if you can, I’m not sure I’d be able to keep up,” Cheryl said. “With that in mind, I think I should bow out and go check on the chicken.”
As the other woman stood from her seat and glided towards the kitchen, Emily could not help but notice that she lightly touched Hamilton’s shoulder and gave him a light smile. Kurt, she ignored entirely.
The habit of ignoring Kurt continued through the rest of the dinner. Despite Cheryl’s previous ban on business talk, Mr. Jennings and Hamilton could not help but rave about the large deal they had just close for their real-estate business.
“I’ve been helping with this merger,” Hamilton bragged, sipping his second glass of wine. “We’re getting a lot out of it. Much more than the other company is.”
“Which, of course, results in raises,” Mr. Jennings said. “I might even have enough to get you that new car you’ve been eyeing for your birthday, Cheryl.”
“You should probably save it and get a new one for Kurt instead,” Cheryl said. “He’s been driving that beat-up Toyota since we met.”
“She still works fine,” Kurt said. “I just need something to get me to and from work. That’s all.”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” Ham put in. “Six years is way too long to be driving the same car. Besides, don’t you want a car with some class? Some character?”
“Mine’s got plenty of character, thanks,” Kurt said evenly.
Having no opinion on cars or mergers, Emily was glad that she wasn’t required to speak much during the rest of the dinner. Occasionally, she would meet Kurt’s eye. They would look at each other with more than a hint of understanding.
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