“Problem?”
“It’s not as crispy as I thought it would be and I’m afraid if I pick it up, it’s just going to fall apart and make a big mess and you’ll make fun of me. But if I eat it with a knife and fork, you’ll also make fun of me.” She looked at the pizza once more, then laughed. “I think I’m willing to be messy and say to hell with what you think!” Then she picked up a slice, took a massive bite out of it—half the toppings fell off and onto her plate—but she looked like she didn’t have a care in the world.
Rather than make her feel self-conscious, he put his attention on his own pizza, made his own mess, and together they shared what was quite possibly the most perfect meal.
* * *
She missed him.
A week later and still all Emery could think about was how much she missed Carter.
It was like she was living in an alternate universe or something.
Their pizza dinner last Saturday night had been a turning point. At least, that’s what it felt like to her. They had cautiously morphed into a couple of friends who were comfortable around one another. By the time Carter left Monday morning, they had laughed together more than they had in all the years they’d known each other.
That wasn’t to say it had been a completely blissful thirty-six hours. That would have been way too bizarre. Her eating habits seemed to annoy him more than anything else—if she wasn’t eating what he was, then she was in the wrong. What Carter didn’t understand was how most of what he ate held little appeal to her, while he—surprise, surprise—refused even to try to see her side of things or taste anything she was eating.
Her breakfast Pop-Tarts were a definite problem for him.
So was the chocolate-covered popcorn she snacked on while checking her emails.
Then there was the time she turned down surf and turf for a couple of hot dogs.
And though she got it—sort of—it still annoyed her. Carter was a chef. Food was his life. But the fact that he cringed at the thought of hot dogs from a street vendor made him a snob, in her opinion. When they walked into a gourmet deli to get some items for lunch and he grilled the poor girl behind the counter for a solid twenty minutes over how fresh everything was, that only confirmed it. And all those fancy salads he bought? Most of them she didn’t like. One of them she actually spit out into her napkin. She hadn’t done that since she was five.
Of course he had reprimanded her, because that salad—which still made her shudder to think about—contained beet pasta, goat cheese, and walnuts and was one of the trendiest salads he’d ever seen.
The only salad Emery enjoyed was a caesar and when she told him so, he groaned with disapproval.
She’d called him a food snob, he’d called her uncultured, and they’d each eaten their meal of choice in silence.
Ironically, once food was off the table, things were fine between them. Carter had written up those recipes for her and then she had offered to work with him on the commentary. He had dictated and she’d typed. Together they edited it all, ending up with a very sweet passage that Emery felt defined everything Eliza was hoping for with the cookbook.
All week long, Emery had gone through the recipes Carter had given her and created a document with each one in the order she felt they should be. While it was starting to come together, she’d texted Carter twice with questions and he’d been more than willing to help her out, sending her a couple more anecdotes and commentaries. It was all nice and sweet and what she was asking for, yet it still felt lacking. What was she missing? What were they both missing?
Eliza herself seemed pleased with the progress, but Emery could tell something wasn’t there for her, as well. And yet none of them could put their finger on it. It was maddening! Unable to stand looking at the computer screen any longer, she stood and stretched, contemplating finding something else to do. It was a beautiful Sunday morning, and what she wanted right now was to go out for a long walk and enjoy it.
So that’s what she did.
In a pair of faded skinny jeans, a navy blue hoodie, and sneakers, Emery slipped on her sunglasses, grabbed her phone, keys, and cross-body purse, and headed out. The temperature was perfect, the sun was shining, and as she predicted, being outside lightened her mood in an instant.
She walked with no real purpose. She window shopped, ate when she was hungry, and simply enjoyed people-watching. For hours Emery walked at her own pace, realizing just how much time she’d been spending locked up in the condo as a way to avoid the possibility of anything negative.
Had it worked? Yes.
Was she tired of it? Yes.
Maybe her self-imposed exile could be coming to a close. It had been a month, and Derek’s name was in the news less and less each day. Maybe she could consider going home. Making a mental note to call her mother later in the evening to get a read on the situation, Emery continued with her stroll.
By four o’clock, she was beat, her belly was full, and she had a bag full of goodies for later. She had discovered that New York bakeries were her weakness. As she turned the corner by her building, Emery reached into her purse and pulled out her keys, not really looking where she was going, and walked right into someone.
“Oh! I’m so sorry, I—” When she looked up, she paled.
It was the same gentleman she’d seen last weekend in the farmer’s market when she was with Carter. Martin Ashley, one of Derek’s attorneys.
He gave a tight smile and said, “Good afternoon, Miss Monaghan. You’re not an easy woman to find.”
Swallowing hard, Emery tried to think of a way out of this situation. She did not want to talk to this man or talk about Derek.
Ever.
Doing her best to look bored, Emery waited him out, figuring he’d say what he had to say and then leave.
“Our firm has been trying to get in contact with you with no success. It’s very important for Derek’s defense for you to be there at his side.”
Although she knew he couldn’t see behind her dark glasses, Emery’s eyes went wide. “You’re joking, right?”
Martin’s expression never changed. “Not at all. We have several court appearances coming up this week, and your appearance and show of support would go a long way in helping Derek’s case.”
This time she couldn’t help it—she laughed.
Actually, she snorted.
“I hate to break it to you, but I’m not looking to help Derek’s case. At all. You see, I believe he’s guilty and if the prosecution asked, I’d testify to that. So really, you’re wasting your time here.”
Now he looked irritated.
“It’s perfectly understandable that you’d feel a little…let’s say distressed by what Derek’s been accused of. However, the two of you have been together for so long and the public is used to seeing you with him, and they no doubt expect you to follow the words of the law. A man is innocent until proven guilty, after all.”
Is this guy for real? she thought with disgust.
“Save your breath. It’s not going to happen. I’m not showing up to any court, I’m certainly not going to support Derek, and I’d really like you to leave now.”
Taking a step back, Martin held up his hands in mock surrender. “It’s a public sidewalk, Miss Monaghan.” Then he paused and looked up at the building. “Nice place you’re staying. I’m not sure the residents would appreciate the press setting up camp out here in hopes of getting a statement from you.”
Emery felt like she was going to be sick. This bastard was threatening her.
“Come to court on Tuesday and no one knows of your whereabouts. Refuse and I’ll make a couple of well-placed calls to alert the press as to where you can be found and how you’re just itching to talk to them. Think about it,” he said smugly before walking away.
Everything in Emery revolted. If she didn’t get inside soon, she most certainly
was going to be sick right here on the street.
With her head down, she quickly made her way inside the building and into the elevator. Luckily, she was alone and she paced and silently prayed she could hold it together for a few more minutes. By the time the doors slid open, tears were streaming down her face and her heart was racing. With a cry of despair, she sped down the hall and let herself into the apartment, slamming the door behind her. The bag of food, her keys, phone, and purse all dropped to the floor as she sprinted to the bathroom and lost her hold on everything she had eaten today.
By the time she felt well enough to move, her entire body felt beaten and bruised. Her head was pounding, and more than anything, she wanted to yell and scream and cry at the unfairness of it all.
Off in the distance, Emery could hear her phone ringing. The last thing she wanted was to talk to anyone, so she ignored it. Slowly, she came to her feet and got her bearings. Next, she brushed her teeth. Her arms felt like lead and her body was shaking as she moved herself to the kitchen, opening a can of Coke. She sat and sipped it while trying to relax.
And still her phone continued to ring.
“Oh, just shut up,” she murmured, too weak to yell. It finally stopped. “Thank God.”
But then the house phone rang and the sound made her jump. Uncertainty waged within her—was it her place to answer it? Was it just a coincidence that it rang right after her own phone stopped?
Then it too stopped.
She said another prayer of thanks and took a sip of her soda.
And the damn phone rang again.
“Okay, that is way too much of a coincidence,” she said, slowly coming to her feet. Grabbing the phone, she said, “Hello?”
“Emery? Are you all right?” It was Eliza, her voice laced with concern.
“Um…yes,” she said hesitantly.
“Are you sure? I just received a call from someone asking if it was our condo you were staying in! I don’t know who he was and he wouldn’t tell me, but when I tried to deny it, he claimed he’d talked to you today.”
Emery began to cry.
The entire time she cried, Eliza did her best to calm her down and promise that everything was going to be all right, but Emery was doubtful. She was alone and scared and had no idea what was going to happen next. Just when she had thought things were getting better, they had crashed and burned around her.
“Tell me what you need me to do. We have other homes you can go to. We have family down in North Carolina who would be more than willing to give you a place to stay. My sister-in-law, Monica, and her husband, William, have a lovely guest house you could stay in and—”
“No. No, I couldn’t impose like that,” she quickly interrupted. “I’ve already somehow managed to drag you into this mess and you don’t deserve that.”
“What are you going to do?”
As much as it pained her, she replied, “I’m going to go home and make my appearance in court.”
Eliza gasped. “You can’t! Oh, Emery, please don’t. Don’t put yourself in that position!”
“I don’t really have a choice. I’ll make a deal that if I show up, it’s the one and only time, and hopefully they’ll agree. And maybe—just maybe—the press will eventually grow tired of not getting any response from me and leave me alone.”
“Please don’t do anything rash. I’m sure you just need a couple of days to think this through.”
“That’s just it, I don’t have a couple of days. If I don’t show up with Derek to his court appearance on Tuesday, his attorney will tell everyone where I am. That’s going to cause a problem with the residents here in the building and it will make problems for you as well. I can’t do that to you, Eliza. You’ve done more for me than anyone else I know and it wouldn’t be right for me to be so selfish.”
“Emery, you’re the least selfish woman I know and I hate this.” She paused. “Just…just give me until the morning, okay?”
“For what?”
“We have quite an extensive legal team at Montgomerys. Let me make some calls and—”
“Eliza, no,” Emery said firmly. “This isn’t your battle to fight. I appreciate it—more than you know—but I have to figure this out on my own.”
“Let me at least get you some advice,” Eliza said. “I’m not saying you have to take it, but if we can put off this sleazy lawyer and prevent him from going to the press, then you’ll have some time to figure things out.”
“I don’t know…”
“Do you trust me, Emery?” Eliza asked softly, almost lovingly. Like a mother should sound.
“You know I do.”
“Then at least give me a couple of hours. Please.”
It was pointless to argue. “Okay. Thank you.”
Emery hung up. Her instinct was to flee—not to her home, but anywhere else.
Groaning, she collapsed on the sofa. It wasn’t running away, she reasoned—and not for the first time. It was a matter of self-preservation. Emery had dealt with the problem when it hit—she’d broken up with Derek and told him she wanted no part of this scandal. And where had that gotten her? Forced to move out of her own home just so she could have a little peace, quiet, and a place to breathe without being watched and hounded. That wasn’t too much to ask, was it?
Apparently.
Glancing over at her phone, Emery thought about calling her mother and trying to talk to her but…to what end?
Rising, she grabbed her can of soda and walked around aimlessly from room to room as if one of them was going to suddenly have answers for her. There were four bedrooms and four bathrooms, the living room, dining room, and kitchen. Each was beautifully decorated and held many framed photos of the Montgomerys. It wasn’t until she was walking around the master bedroom that she stopped and picked a photo up. It was of Eliza’s three children—Christian, Megan, and Carter—and it made her smile.
On the left was Christian. He looked serious—his smile was sweet but didn’t quite meet his eyes. On the right was Carter, eyes full of mischief, his smile wide like someone had just told him a good joke. His hair was a bit askew and darker than his brother’s, but what stood out more than anything was how much they looked alike. It was their temperament that was so different—she knew this from the few times she’d met Christian.
Standing between them was their sister, Megan. Her smile was as big as Carter’s and she was hugging both of her brothers close. It was such a sweet photo and looked like it hadn’t been taken that long ago. For a moment, Emery stared at it and wished she had siblings she was close to. Her two older sisters were married and living on the West Coast now, and—not surprisingly—neither had offered any advice or support when the news about Derek broke.
Yeah. Not surprising. They’d never been close. Emery had been the smart one, the one her parents bragged about because of her accomplishments. Growing up, her parents always made the comparisons and when Eva and Ella—yes, their parents really went there with the names—each got married, they moved as far away as possible and rarely kept in touch. Not that it mattered. They hadn’t been close growing up, so nothing had really changed.
“God, there’s way too many depressing things swirling in my brain right now,” she muttered, placing the picture of Carter and his siblings down. It felt a little awkward and voyeuristic to be in Eliza and Joseph’s bedroom, and she was about to walk out when she spotted a picture of Carter alone on the small desk in the corner.
Walking over, she picked it up and her heart skipped a beat. It was a photo of Carter at one of his restaurants. He was standing in his chef’s jacket, holding a glass of wine in one hand and a whole lobster in the other. The look on his face was pure joy. His eyes were looking directly at the camera—so right now they felt like they were looking directly at her.
Carefully, she put the picture back down but continued to stare at it. They hadn�
��t talked any more about the kiss Saturday afternoon, and Emery thought she’d done a good job of acting as if it wasn’t a big deal. The reality was that she was a big fat liar. That kiss had been a very big deal. A huge deal, in fact. Everything about it had awakened things in her that she hadn’t known existed.
For starters, she’d had no idea a kiss could consume her. From the moment Carter’s lips had claimed hers, she had felt like everything changed.
And since then? It had played on a constant loop in her head. Even if she closed her eyes right now, she’d still be able to feel his lips on hers, smell his cologne, and remember how it felt to have his hands up in her hair. She groaned. It was the sexiest thing ever—and that in and of itself was a depressing thought. She was almost thirty and had been dating since she was sixteen and engaged for two years. Yet one brief kiss from Carter Montgomery trumped every other kiss she’d ever experienced.
And he could never know.
Ever.
Still, she couldn’t quite get over the fact that he’d done it. His response seemed reasonable at the time, but the more she thought about it, the more it didn’t.
Why are you looking for trouble?
Unfortunately, this was how her brain worked. Ever since she’d first caught Derek cheating on her last year, Emery second-guessed just about everything in her life. What signs had she missed? How could she not have known? And that spilled over to other aspects of her life, like questioning why Carter would kiss her when he’d never done anything like that before. And that question led to things like “And why didn’t he do it again?” and “Does he want to kiss me again?” which eventually led her to “Oh no—am I a bad kisser? Is that why Derek cheated?”
Then her self-esteem plummeted and she wanted to cry.
“Now I need a snack,” she said with annoyance and stormed back to the kitchen to find something to eat. Technically, it was dinnertime, but the need for something quick and easy was too strong to ignore. Maybe it was nerves, maybe it was just her own stupid quirk, but right now she needed to keep her hands and her mouth busy.
A Dash of Christmas Page 8
