by Rebel Hart
An awkward silence falls over the table as Brendan digs into his food without hesitation. I shovel my food around on my plate, but my mom keeps her hands firmly planted, refusing to take a bite without our guest.
“Emmett has been preparing to take over Jameson Automobiles,” I explain, trying to make excuses for him. “Which is really like running Jameson. He has already started meeting with the advisors of the company and has been really stressed.”
“I can’t believe that so much responsibility would be placed on someone his age,” my mom gapes.
“I know.” I sigh. “But he seems determined to prove to everyone that he is capable.”
Finally, the doorbell rings. I race to answer it and thankfully, Emmett is finally standing there with a bouquet of flowers in hand.
“Where have you been!?” I hiss quietly, yanking him inside and shoving him towards the dining table.
“So sorry I’m late,” he announces, rushing over to shake their hands and give my mom the flowers. “I stopped for these and then hit traffic.”
I instantly know his excuse his bullshit. It’s all backroads and neighborhoods between our houses and the local stores. There’s no where he could have hit enough traffic to make him almost an hour late. But I keep my mouth shut, still clinging to the hope that he can actually win my parents over.
“We just started eating,” Brendan tells him, motioning for him to have a seat.
“Thank you,” he beams. “This looks delicious.”
“Does your mom cook a lot?” my mom asks him innocently.
“All the time.” Emmett takes a big drink of water and clears his throat. “She’s German, so she likes to make a lot of dishes from her home. Recipes passed down through her family.”
“Oh! How lovely!” she chimes. “Authentic German cuisine. Huh.”
I peer up at him over my plate. He’s lying and I don’t know why. Sure, it might be a lot for them to take in if he was honest and told them their house was staffed with chefs, but they know who he is. They have to know how wealthy he is. And I’ve barely ever even seen his mom, much less known her to cook a meal for her family.
What bothers me the most is that I want to know why he feels the need to lie about these things. Is it out of some sort of pity? Does he think we’re so poor we can’t handle the idea of someone rich sitting at our dinner table?
“And how have all of you been holding up recently?” Brendan asks, subtly referring to Emmett’s father’s supposed suicide.
“Well,” Emmett answers curtly, shifting in his chair, “as well as could be expected.”
Lying again. We don’t even know where Bernadette is, but I didn’t expect him to actually come clean on that one.
The dinner trails off into small talk. Emmett does a great job of deflecting everything back to my parents, asking a million questions about their lives and their jobs. By the time they’ve answered one thing, he has another question ready to go. They love it, taking it as very polite and stimulating conversation. But I can see he’s only trying to keep from talking about himself.
Once we’ve finished eating, I offer to help with the dishes and suggest that Emmett and Brendan go find a movie for us to watch.
“Um, actually,” Emmett turns to me quietly. “I may need to go.”
“Go where?” I ask in a hushed tone. “I thought you and I were going to talk later tonight. We can’t spend a little time with my parents first?”
“Look, I came for dinner. What more do you want from me?” he hisses.
“Mom, actually…I’ll help you with those dishes later if that’s okay,” I stammer, quickly trying to come up with an excuse before the full extent of my anger becomes obvious. “Emmett just reminded me of a report we’re supposed to be working on together and we’re behind. We need to catch up on it. We’ll be up in my room!”
I yank Emmett away as she reluctantly agrees. I know the tension between us is probably painfully obvious. I pull him upstairs and slam my bedroom door shut.
“What the fuck, Emmett!” I belt the moment we’re alone. “My dad gets the nice, charming version of you, but they get the you that’s almost an hour late and lies about anything you actually say about yourself!?” He opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. “Don’t use your sister as an excuse again, either! You have no problem putting that aside when we’re making visits to your motel room. You could’ve given me and my parents a nice evening with you. Do you know how important this was to my mom?” I demand angrily. “She feels like she doesn’t know anything about my life. And she doesn’t…because of you and everything your fucked up friends and family have dragged me into since I got here.”
“Hey, your dad is just as messed up and would have dragged you in, too, whether we did or not,” he defends. “Need I remind you, you would have been his prisoner if I hadn’t taken you instead.”
“Oh, yes, I keep forgetting how you kidnapping me was some sick way of saving me,” I sneer. “And no, Emmett. You don’t need to remind me of any of that. I’m all too aware. Which is why tonight was important. I wanted you to see my real family. Not my stupid biological father. My mom and Brendan mean everything to me. And they wanted to know you.”
“I’m sorry, Ophelia,” he answers in frustration, “it’s just not a good time. Let’s just find Bernadette, and then we can try again. I’m just getting more and more worried, and I don’t know what to do. What if I never see her again?”
“Go to the fucking police, Emmett!” I snap, knowing he’ll refuse yet again. “We’re wasting time trying to figure this out on our own, and we’re no closer to having any answers now than we were when we started! Let’s just please, please go to the police. Or hire a private detective or something!”
“The detectives all know the cops,” he argues. “You know it’s too risky. The cops in this town are no good, and I have a feeling they’re out to get me. What if they try to pin the whole thing on me?”
“What if they’re not as against you as you think and have nothing to do with Bernadette’s disappearance? And by not going to them, you shoot yourself and her…and me in the foot by not reporting it. Do you have any idea how it would look if they found out we knew about this for so long and said nothing?”
“That’s on my mom,” he insists. “She’s the one who swore it was the worst possible idea. She made me promise not to.” I pace the room in silence, not knowing what else to possibly suggest. “I was thinking about talking to Vivian. Like you suggested. I did promise if nothing panned out with your dad that I would go to her and Lily.”
I can’t help but groan at the idea of confronting those two again, especially after what happened last time. “When?” I ask resentfully. I don’t want to do it, but I knew from the beginning they’d probably be our best lead.
“I was going to go tonight,” he mumbles nonchalantly.
It struck me as odd that he didn’t want to come to dinner at all when I first asked. Then he was late. Now he’s conveniently telling me he was thinking of meeting up with Vivian tonight. “Would you have gone to see her without telling me?” I ask through the lump in my throat.
“No, of course not,” he replies unconvincingly.
“Okay, well, I’ll get my things and come with you,” I announce, turning to grab my purse. “Let’s go.”
He stands and purses his lips, shuffling towards me awkwardly. “Actually…I think it’d be best if you didn’t come.”
I laugh out loud, but he’s dead serious. “What the hell do you mean I shouldn’t come with you? To go see Vivian!? Why…so I don’t step in to stop your fucked up foreplay like last time?”
Suddenly, I’m afraid that’s what the weird, kinky stuff at the hotel was about. Is that the kind of thing Vivian and he used to do? Lily seemed to think so. Did he miss it so much that he tried to get me to play along?
“No, it’s nothing like that. Don’t be ridiculous,” he insists. “Vivian acts different when you’re not around. She won’t be so confront
ational if it’s just me. And maybe you could meet with Lily while I see Vivian.”
“You’re not hearing me, Emmett,” I say slowly and clearly to the point of insult. “I don’t want you to be alone with Vivian. Period. I don’t trust her. I just know something will happen.”
“You don’t have to trust her,” he says, growing angrier. “You just have to trust me. Don’t you?”
The words stings. Trust. How can I possibly trust Emmett after everything he has done to me? I am giving him a chance at redemption, but always with the lingering fear that at any moment, he will go back to the way he was before. Always with fear and hesitation. I keep the expectation of it happening in place to protect myself, but maybe that’s what will be our downfall. By not trusting and having faith in his ability not to mess this up, I’m manifesting his failure. My inability to trust him is what’s dooming both of us.
My lips part but nothing comes out. I can’t lie to him, but I don’t want to say the truth. I want to trust him, but I don’t. Not when it comes to Vivian. I know what our little violent encounters used to turn into when the tables were turned. And I can’t stop myself from wondering what would have happened at Lily’s if they had been alone.
“This isn’t just about us, Ophelia!” he shouts after I don’t reply. “This is about my family. You understand?”
“You said you loved me,” I remind him. “Doesn’t that make me like family? I’m sorry…I just can’t be okay with you running off alone with Vivian. I can’t. You don’t want me to be alone with Malcolm. It’s only fair.”
“Do you think Malcolm knows anything about my sister?” he asks in a sarcastic rage. “Cause if so…then by all means go do what you need to do.”
“Oh, how convenient…a sacrifice you know you won’t actually have to make,” I shoot back, rolling my eyes.
I want to be more sympathetic. Softer to him right now while he’s stressing out, especially knowing he might still end the night with Vivian against my wishes. The last thing I want to do is make him think I don’t care and then send him off to her while he’s angry and questioning our relationship. But I can’t seem to break through this wall I have about the two of them. It’s overpowering everything else inside of me.
“I just have a terrible feeling about it is all,” I try again, softening my tone. I walk over to him and try to take his hand in mine, hoping to stop our argument. “Just please let me come with you. I promise I won’t let things get out of control like last time.”
He considers it for a moment and then looks away. “I don’t know,” he mutters under his breath. “I’m so exhausted. I don’t even know if I’m up to talking to her tonight. I just don’t know what else to do.” He looks at me again, his eyes distant in thought. “I think I’m just going to go to bed. I’ve felt so tired and lost all day. Let’s figure all of this out tomorrow, okay?”
He tries to lean in for a quick dismissive peck to my forehead, but I flinch back. “What are you talking about?” I ask in an accusing panic. I know he’s not going to go to sleep. This is just to keep me at bay so he can go see Vivian. Maybe it’s paranoia, but I can’t convince myself of anything different. “Stay here,” I plead with him, trying to pull him close to me again. “My mom won’t bother us for a while,” I add suggestively, standing on my toes to lure him in for a kiss.
“I just said I was tired, Ophelia,” he groans. “I’m not in the mood.”
My heart sinks. He’s never refused me—not since we started this up again. The only time he has ever refused me was when he was still with Vivian.
“Are you lying so you can go see her?” I ask against my better judgment. I know it’s only going to make him mad and push me away, but I can’t stop myself. He feels like sand slipping through my fingers, and I am desperately trying everything I can to hold on. “Or is something else going on? Something you’re not telling me?”
“No!” he whines, pushing me away. “I’m just fucking tired, okay? Let it go. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Please don’t go,” I mumble too quietly as he walks out the door. I don’t want him to hear me. Not really. At this point I know he’s going to leave anyway, and I want to save some shred of my dignity. If there’s even any left.
“Wait!” I barrel after him, unable to hold myself back, yanking him back into my room.
“Ophelia, what are you doing?” he groans.
“Please just hold me,” I plead with him. “Just for a moment. This doesn’t feel right. I need to feel close to you right now.”
“You’re always close to me.” He sighs, pulling me to his chest.
“It doesn’t feel that way right now,” I confess. “I’m scared something else is going on with you and you won’t tell me what it is. What am I supposed to think?”
“I need to go,” he insists, pulling away, leaving my arms suspended and reaching for him in midair. He doesn’t look back once as he leaves.
If he would have just made love to me, it wouldn’t have fixed everything, but I wouldn’t be left feeling so empty and unwanted. It feels like a big red flag waving mercilessly in my face, begging for me to accept what is right in front of me. Something has to be going on with Vivian. Before, he couldn’t see that she’s the best possible suspect in his sister’s disappearance, and now I’m positive he’s sneaking off to see her without me.
I fall to pieces as he slams my bedroom door shut. I’m too embarrassed to even go downstairs with him while he says goodbye to my parents. Everything about this feels wrong, and no matter how hard I try to redirect my thoughts or explain away his behavior, all I can see is Vivian’s snide face in my mind, looking pleased as she puts her hands all over him.
Not knowing what else to do, I race to my laptop and begin scouring social media. I look at every chat platform I can to see when Emmett or Vivian were last active, if there’s any correlation. After making up a million different scenarios in my mind and imagining them all in painful detail, I finally collapse onto my bed in tears.
This isn’t like me. I have never acted so crazy over a guy. And I hate myself for it because I know everything I’m doing is exactly what will drive Emmett away. I decide that no matter how mad this is driving me, I have to at least make it appear as if I trust him. I open up my phone to send him a text message.
I’m sorry for everything. I love you. Please get some rest. Talk to you tomorrow.
I pray for some kind of instant response that will calm my runaway thoughts, but there is nothing. The longest hour of my life goes by without a single word from him. I finally tell myself I’ll just go to bed, but once the lights are out and I’m under the covers, all I do is toss and turn restlessly. I have to talk myself out of going for a late-night run…which would really only turn into me stalking different places around town to see if I spotted them out together.
The worst part is that Emmett has literally tortured me in the past, abused me emotionally and physically. And not only did I manage to forgive and still fall in love with him, but this honestly feels worse than any of that. At least then I could try to hate him. This new territory just makes me hate myself.
Every time I think things are getting better, everything goes horribly wrong again. Maybe that’s just how relationships are supposed to be. The ebb and flow. The ups and downs. I had always heard that, but I never knew it could hurt this bad.
At first, I check my phone every five seconds, terrified that I won’t hear the ding of a new message. But quickly it fades to every thirty minutes. Then maybe every hour. When I wake up the next morning with phone in hand, and see that nothing has been sent since I fell asleep, I decide all at once that I’ll never hear from him again.
Chapter Thirteen
BOOK 2
I’m a complete wreck by Monday morning. Everything’s gotten so much worse than I would have expected. Not only did Emmett not text me back Saturday night, I didn’t hear from him all day Sunday either.
Part of me is convinced beyond a doubt that he met up w
ith Vivian Saturday night. They decided to give it another go and haven’t left each other’s sides since. When he arrives at school today, he’ll be back to the old Elite Emmett I once knew, tormenting me with Vivian at his side.
I am so certain of this scenario I have made up in my mind that I flinch back with a shriek when a pair of arms wraps around me in the hall.
“Jeez, you’re awfully jumpy,” Emmett says casually as he tries to pull me in for a kiss.
I’m so angry now that he’s actually in front of me, I can’t bring myself to say a single word. I fling him off of me and keep walking.
“Ophelia!” he calls out. “What’s going on with you?”
“What the fuck do you mean what’s going on with me?” I hiss back through clenched teeth, trying to keep my voice down so everyone else doesn’t hear. “I haven’t heard from you since you stormed out of my room Saturday night. Do you think I’m an idiot!?”
I try to march off again, but he chases me down and grabs my arm tightly enough that I can’t run away from him anymore.
“Of course, I don’t think you’re an idiot,” he huffs. “Your text made it sound like you understood how upset I was…So I thought you were giving me some space, which is what I needed.”
“Bullshit.” I try to hold back my tears. “You expect me to believe you didn’t run off to see Vivian anyway? And tell me Emmett…how did that go? Has she told you exactly where Bernadette is yet?”
“I promise you…I didn’t go see her. I haven’t talked to her at all,” he insists. “I was hiding out in my motel room making some calls and trying to see if I could track anything down online. I haven’t found anything yet, but I didn’t say a word to Vivian. You asked me not to. I thought we could talk to her together today.”
I want to believe him, but I’ve spent the last twenty-four hours working myself into a frenzy, and it’s not so easy to just snap out of it now. But he wouldn’t invite me to talk to Vivian with him if he had already seen her or if something else was going on, would he?
