by Anna Paige
Not exactly a complete shutdown, but I’d take it.
“Thank you. I really don’t think you should worry. He’s a man of his word. You can trust him.”
“Do you trust him, Emily?” His tone had shifted, and I sighed as I realized The Prude was making an appearance.
“Unequivocally.”
He was quiet again, and I let him have however long he needed to get his attitude in order, to let him think about what he was about to say before he opened his mouth— not that he tended to do that in recent weeks.
He spoke carefully. “I’m proud of my gallery. I want it to succeed. And I want it to only be seen in the best possible light.”
“As do I.” There was an edge to my voice that I hoped he would understand.
“That’s good to hear, Emily.”
I stood, ready to get this shit over with and go home to Ethan. “Was there something else?”
“No. I just wanted to check in.”
“Okay, great. I need to go finish up my work. Glad I could set your mind at ease. Have a good day, Nikolai.”
“You as well, Emily.”
I hung up, wanting to break something. Or throw something. Preferably at his head.
Such a pain in my ass.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Emily
Dana called as I was gathering my things to leave and said she was outside with mocha lattes. I knew Ethan would wonder where I was if I ran late, so I sent him a quick text and left Arthur to finish locking up and setting the alarms.
Sure enough, Dana was in a waiting taxi, head peeking out the window. “Get in, loser.” She was always quoting our favorite movies, and that one was a classic.
I would have stood there and bantered back and forth, but it was freezing, and she had coffee in there, so I caved.
Once I was inside, she handed me a double-cupped latte and grinned. “Something to warm you up. I considered bringing an ice pack for your vag, just in case Ethan wrecked it last night, but I figured if it was that bad, we could just pack it with snow.”
“You’re in a saucy mood today.” I cast a glance at the driver, who was getting an earful courtesy of my unfiltered bestie. “Get flung again, did you?”
“Tied.” She grinned, sipping from her cup.
I chuckled. “Freak.”
“You know it. And there’s more to come, since I’m working a split shift tonight.” She emphasized the word split in a way that made me giggle. “I had an hour or two to kill, so I thought I’d drag you off for a quick bite and some long overdue dishing.”
“Sounds perfect.” I found myself tearing up. “I’ve missed this—being able to tell you everything. It was like part of me was walled off, inaccessible even to me. I’m so glad he told you.”
“I’d never been so shocked in my life.” She glanced at the driver. “Or so honored to have someone’s trust.” She might have been exuberant, but she wasn’t reckless.
“He decided if I trusted you, he should too.”
“And I’m glad he did, but I meant you. I know you pushed for this, even if you didn’t have to push as much as you thought. When you told him you needed me, needed not to lie to me, you risked everything you two have. And I can’t tell you how much I love you for that.”
Dammit, now she’s gone and made me cry.
“You’re my family, Dana. For a long time, you’ve been my only family. Of course, I risked it for you. I’d do anything for you.”
She coughed hard and whisked away a few tears of her own. “Yeah, well, I may make you prove that.”
“Name it.”
“Meet Blake. Not that he’s a boyfriend or anything, but I want you to come to the bar and just take a peek so you can put a face with the name.”
“Not a boyfriend, huh?”
“Hell no. But that doesn’t mean you don’t need to at least see him, make sure he passes inspection.”
“Fine. But if I see him being a jerk to you…”
“You’ll keep your trap shut. I told you, it’s not like it was before.”
“Like I said…freak.”
She shrugged it off and offered no apologies. “Maybe after the holidays, though, since he’s tied up in his office a lot of the time these days, doing the books and inventory or whatever.”
The taxi pulled over, and Dana paid before we both climbed out onto the freezing sidewalk.
“Tied up, huh?” I snorted.
“Once or twice.” Her eyes sparkled as she grinned back at me. “And he’s not always in there doing books, either.”
“I’ll definitely wait until the new year, then. And I’ll give fair warning before I drop by so everyone can be freed from their bondage in time for my visit.”
A guy walking past caught the tail end of the conversation and chuckled, making us both crack up.
We strolled into the locally adored deli we liked to frequent. They had half-sandwiches stacked insanely high with meat and cups of soup so delicious it was hard to eat it without moaning into our spoons.
Everything we’d kept bottled up these last few weeks came pouring out, and I was surprised to find that I actually did want to meet—or at least check out—the asshat. He sounded more interesting by the minute, and Dana gushed way more than someone who was enjoying no-strings hookups.
I almost gave her the same ‘it’s a fling not forever’ speech she gave me, but I decided not to. Something told me she was happy no matter where they were headed, and I wasn’t about to get in the way of that.
We talked about Ethan—though without using either of his names or speaking directly about his art, just on the off chance that someone was listening in.
It was all going so well.
Then my damn phone started ringing with the unmistakable sound of my mother’s ringtone.
Dana groaned and sat back from our conversation, knowing full well I’d have to answer or she’d never give up.
“Hello, Mother.” I had to take a sip of my coffee to wash the bitter taste of her name from my palate.
“Don’t hello me. Do you know what I’m looking at right now?”
I could guess from her tone whatever it was pissed her off.
“No, enlighten me,” I drawled, knowing it would only antagonize her.
Dana chortled across from me.
“Don’t you be sassy with me. Especially not when I’m looking at online photos of you with some tattooed musician’s arm around you, like you’re some groupie. What are you thinking, getting involved with such unsavory characters? What will people think?”
The look of rage on my face startled Dana upright, and she muttered, “Shit’s about to go down.”
I nodded to her even as I addressed my mother. “First of all, the musician whose arm was around me has no visible tattoos that I’ve seen. The rest of the band is pretty inked up, though. For instance, the drummer—who bangs like a champ, in case you were interested—has two full sleeves.”
Mother sucked in a breath. “Emily—”
“Second, I’m not a groupie. I’m part of their family, which is a step up from being part of yours, I assure you.” Dana was about to piss herself laughing and nodding along as I went. “And third, those unsavory characters spent hundreds of thousands of dollars that morning giving away instruments—mostly to kids. What have you done this holiday season to help even one child? Better yet, what have you done for your own child this whole year or last year or the year before that? Nothing. Not a goddamn thing. So, don’t you dare judge them because you don’t like the way they look.”
“If your father could hear the way you—”
“My father was an artist. One whose talent you squashed because it wasn’t something you could capitalize on. You couldn’t make his art about you, so you made him give it up. You didn’t care about him, only about what his accomplishments meant for your social standing. You used him to make yourself look important, and you used me to make people feel sorry for you after he was gone. You didn’t care about me unles
s there was an audience. The dutiful, heartbroken widow raising a child on her own. Well, I’m done. You want to play the victim, use the distance between us as a way to gain sympathy from those overfunded old crows you call friends, so be it. Be sure to tell them I said this…don’t call me again, mother. I’m done. You should be able to milk that for a good long time if you play your cards right. Have fun with that. Oh, and Merry Christmas.”
I hung up and Dana stood, throwing her chair back as she cheered like an idiot right in the middle of the restaurant.
“It’s about damn time!” she hollered, high-fiving me.
“Damn, that felt like therapy.” I blew out a big breath. “I’ve been wanting to do that for so long, but it just felt like a waste of energy. But when she started talking about Ethan and Jared and the guys…”
“I’ve never been so close to full-on kissing a chick in my life as I am right now. You were fucking savage.” Dana could not have looked prouder.
My anger still bubbled under the surface, but it was more of a slow simmer now. “As amazing as those guys are, as much good as they’ve done, as many people as they’ve positively impacted…and that wretched bitch had the gall to talk shit about them? Nope. Not happening.”
“Em…” Dana tipped her head toward my plate, and I realized my poor sandwich was crushed to mush in my hands.
“Whoops. I was picturing her throat.” I used a napkin to clean the chipotle sauce from my fingers.
“You know, I love Ethan and the guys too, but some of that anger you have had better be for yourself. She’s been running you into the ground your whole life, and you deserve to be angry for Emily as much as for the band. Understand?”
I took a sip of my coke and wished I had some Jack to put in it. “You’re right. And I stuck up for myself too, but without her attacks on Ethan, I might never have been pushed far enough to do it.”
“You’re protective. I get it. It’s your nurturing instinct—one I know goddamn well didn’t come from her.”
“Definitely not.” I chuckled, throwing my napkin on my plate and signaling it was time to go. “This has been great. I needed this—all of it—so much. But I’m fidgety as hell now, so I’m thinking I should get back to the loft and make use of this surge of adrenaline.”
She was still laughing as we threw away our trash and headed outside.
“Taxi!” she yelled. When one screeched to a stop a moment later, she ushered me inside with a huge grin. “Drummer boy is about to have his day made.”
He sure as hell was.
I’d already made mine.
Chapter Fifty
Ethan
For some reason, I thought I’d miss being with the guys for our non-traditional Thanksgiving, but I barely had time to think about it. Sure, I caught a little grief from Sandy, Kade and Kane’s mom, for not being there, but it was all in fun. She even invited me and Emily for Christmas, which was sweet.
I had plans, though. And so did Emily, even if she didn’t know it yet.
Those plans, and the endless amount of prep involved, kept me busy as hell for the next couple of weeks while Emily and I played house. It was the most fun I’d had in a long time, between spending time with her and plotting her gift. Like everything between us so far, it was going to be epic.
She all but moved into the loft, with us spending roughly five out of seven nights there. It would have been seven out of seven, if I had my way. I loved having her at my place, but she still missed her apartment and had a stubborn streak a mile wide, so I caved whenever she wanted to crash there.
My only concern was that I had to keep a low profile so her neighbors wouldn’t recognize me when we came and went, but everyone in New York tended to mind their own, so it wasn’t that hard. And it was worth the risk to make her happy.
No matter whose place we were at, we ended our days in the same bed, limbs tangled, hearts pounding, bodies exhausted from long, carefree days and vigorous, consuming nights.
Emily was working half days, leaving work by one every afternoon, which was fine by me. From some of the things she’d said, I could tell her boss was pushing her buttons.
To take advantage of her free afternoons, we did all the things the seasonal tourists loved. We went ice skating every couple of days at either Rockefeller Center or Bryant Park Winter Village—where I swear my ass polished every inch of the ice at one point or another. Thank fuck for my shades and toboggan cap. With those on, I was safe from recognition. Once the sun went down, I switched my shades for a pair of hipster glasses that Em thought looked particularly hot on me, which was an unintended bonus. Mostly, I just wanted to enjoy my time with her without being hounded. And the last thing I needed was a flood of paparazzi pics of me sliding across the ice on my butt like a toddler.
I was fairly sure Emily pushed me a time or two but couldn’t prove it.
The little sneak.
But she laughed her ass off every time I took a tumble, so it was worth it, even if there was sabotage at play.
Between skating days, we checked out the Dyker Heights Christmas lights and the Radio City Christmas Spectacular. Sometimes we brought Dana along, when she had time off work, and some days I even stepped back so they could do things alone, because I knew how much Em needed that. On those days, I painted. Once or twice I called up Kade, and we worked on new lyrics because I was all kinds of inspired lately.
But mostly, Emily and I took long walks and just checked out the signs of the season. From holiday markets to small window displays in mom-and-pop shops to hand-painted murals on glass storefronts, it was all beautiful. And enjoying it with Emily made it even more so.
In all honesty, I hadn’t enjoyed the holidays in a very long time. I went through the motions, of course. Did all the requisite things, bought the required gifts, smiled at the right times, but it never really moved me. Not since Ryan. Not since everything that I’d once loved about the season was gone, lost to grief and regret.
I hadn’t talked to my parents in nearly eight months. Even then it was only because we were passing through Pennsylvania on tour, and I decided to drop in on them. Talk about being out of place. I’d sat stiff-backed on their couch, in awkward silence, while they looked at me like I’d tracked shit on the welcome mat.
No attachment, no interest.
They were hollow.
And until recently, so was I.
I wanted to be sad for them, to tell myself that what they went through—losing a child—is the most horrific thing a person can experience, and they were dealing with it in the only way they knew how: by shutting down.
But the fact remained that they hadn’t lost both their sons, they’d lost one and forsaken the other in their grief. I wondered sometimes if they would have been the same way with Ryan if it was me who’d died.
Would they mourn me the same way?
How could I believe that when they so easily walked away from me while I was still here? How could they just stop caring? Shouldn’t they hold tighter to the people who mattered after a tragedy like that?
Was I an asshole for judging them for the way they grieved?
I didn’t know.
I was a grown-ass man, right? Financially secure, smart, well-adjusted, independent, and surrounded by people who genuinely cared. Why did I let it bother me so much that my parents weren’t part of that?
It wasn’t like I needed coddling.
I was creeping up on thirty, for fuck’s sake.
I talked to Emily about it one afternoon, about a week before Christmas. We were lying in bed in my studio, just lazing there after an afternoon romp. I didn’t know where it came from, but before I could stop myself, it was spilling out. I was angry and hurt and lost.
And she was there.
She listened for a long time, quietly stroking the back of my hand with her fingers while I knotted the blanket in my fist. She wasn’t saying anything, just nodding. Supporting. And of course, she knew what this was like. I’d seen it when she spoke to h
er mother, when she mentioned her in passing.
Of course, she knew this feeling.
Of course, she understood.
Her mother pretended to care when it suited her, which might have actually been worse than not caring at all. At least I knew my parents were broken inside. I knew because they hadn’t always been this way.
Em’s mother had.
She’d always been fucked up, mentally abusive, cold, and just…unworthy of someone like her daughter. It was sad, really.
For both of us.
Emily, true to form, knew exactly what to say.
“It’s always there, but it’s harder during the holidays, I think. Because there are so many ‘normal’ images out there of what families are supposed to look like—all smiling and rosy-cheeked around a huge table or standing by a stunningly decorated tree while the kiddos unwrap their mountain of presents. You hear people complaining about all the places they have to be, the celebrations that are stacked one after another, while you’re looking at a mostly empty calendar. It’s easy to compare yourself, your situation, to that. To see what you have as lacking because it’s different. But you wanna know a secret?”
I was already smiling in anticipation, hugging her closer as she met my eyes. “What, baby?”
“I don’t feel like I’m lacking a damn thing. Nada. Especially not people who can’t be bothered to care about me. You just have to love those who love you and wish the best for those who don’t, because you’re better off without them. Because they’re the ones missing out on something incredible.” She kissed the tip of my nose. “This year I already have everything I could ever ask for, because I have you.”
I gripped her waist and rolled her onto her back, settling over her like a blanket. “I couldn’t agree more. You’re by far the best gift I’ve ever been given, Miss Emily.”
“I’m still getting you a present, though.” She nudged my nose with hers.
“Just put on a huge bow and be waiting naked under the mistletoe. That’s all I want for Christmas this year.”
