When they closed behind them and the elevator started to move, Jack put his arms around her, held her close and didn't say anything.
When they reached the lobby, he let her go and saw that her eyes were wet.
"I'll tell Angela I'm staying at your place," she said, and that was all.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
EMMALINE WAS SLURPING down her third cup of coffee a few days later. It was her day off, and she and Angela had been up late the night before with the Bitter Betrayeds, who'd graciously accepted Angela as an honorary member, despite declaring her "too beautiful and too nice."
The group was full of news--Jeanette O'Rourke was going on a cruise with Ronnie Petrosinsky, the Chicken King. Allison was indeed going back to the irritatingly perfect Charles, who'd proven his love by sending her a gift-wrapped box of cookie jar fragments. Shelayne announced that she'd just been approved as an adoptive parent, and there were hugs and more Peach Sunrises and a bottle of champagne.
And lastly, Em was grilled on how Jack was in bed. Her silence had brought on some fierce (and very colorful) speculation.
"She's blushing," Grace had pointed out, coming in from the kitchen with a fresh pitcher of Peach Sunrises. "You know what that means. Jack is a dirty, dirty boy." Coming from their senior citizen member, this had caused shrieks of laughter from the women.
"Maybe it's time you changed the name of your group," Angela had suggested. "None of you seems particularly bitter or betrayed."
That had given the rest of them pause.
"Call yourself the Sunrise Girls," Ange had suggested. "These cocktails are simply wonderful, Grace."
It was surely their best meeting yet. No one had mentioned the book they'd neglected to read, but that was never really the point.
Angela, of course, leaped out of bed that morning, completely unaffected by last night. Emmaline wasn't so lucky. Sarge was upstairs, having decided he loved Angela more, the faithless wretch, and was barking in excitement at whatever Angela was doing. Loudly, Em thought, wincing.
Ten minutes later, both of them craving chocolate, they walked to Lorelei's Sunrise Bakery. The smell of pastry sent out its siren call. "Oh!" Angela said. "Look at this. A bridal salon! Let's go in, Emmaline."
"Why?" Em said.
"I'm thinking you should try on dresses," she said. "For when you and Jack get married. I always hated that sad little dress you bought."
"It wasn't sad," Emmaline said.
"Please. It looked like you were going to a dance at the Elks Lodge circa 1983," Angela said. "No, this time, you must take me with you. I insist."
"How do you know what an Elks Lodge dance looks like? Besides, I'm not getting married anytime soon."
"Please. He's crazy about you. He'll be popping the question in a matter of weeks."
Emmaline opened the door of the bakery and bumped squarely into the man himself.
"Jack! We were just talking about you," Angela said.
"Really." He gave Emmaline a look as if trying to place her.
"Jack, what do you think?" Angela said, her eyes twinkling. "Ivory or white? Which do you prefer?"
"Ignore her," Emmaline said.
Jack glanced across the street where a poufy dress shimmered in the window of Happily Ever After. He didn't smile. "Would you like to have dinner with my family tonight?"
Angela gave a muffled squeal, and Em shot her a filthy look. "Uh..."
"You'd be welcome, too, Angela," Jack said.
"Oh, no! No, thank you for including me, Jack. You're terribly sweet, but no, I have to be at Cornell this evening." She gave Emmaline a sly smile. "In fact, look at the time! I should go. Always lovely to see you, Jack." She strode away, waving at someone inside the antiques store.
"I wasn't shopping for a wedding dress," she said, immediately regretting it.
"Do you want to come for dinner?" he repeated.
She squinted at him. "You sure you want me there?"
"Why would I ask you if I didn't?"
"I don't know."
"Six o'clock at Honor and Tom's. I can pick you up if you want." He looked at his watch.
"No, that's fine. Jack, are you okay?"
"I'm great. I have to run. See you tonight."
*
SOMEHOW, EMMALINE HAD forgotten just how many Hollands there were.
The driveway was filled with cars, and Blue, Faith's giant golden retriever, raced up to her door. Sarge yipped wildly, his tail whacking Em in the head.
Honor had called her earlier to invite her to dinner personally and told her to bring her dog, since who didn't love puppies? She said her own little dog could use some socializing.
The Hollands' big white house was a landmark in Manningsport. Em had never been inside before, and it was a little imposing. Made her glad she'd dressed in a skirt.
She clipped on Sarge's leash, got out and let her dog wriggle in ecstasy as Blue sniffed him over. Then she grabbed the flowers she'd brought--gerbera daisies--and with a deep breath, went up to the front door and knocked.
No one answered, though the door practically shook from noise inside. She knocked again. Nothing. Opened the door and peeked in.
The place was mobbed.
"Emmaline! Welcome," said Honor, bustling over. "Oh, these are gorgeous! Thank you."
"Thanks for having me. Are you sure you don't want me to leave Sarge in the car?"
"We all love dogs--don't worry." She bent over to pet Sarge, who sat and wagged his tail. "Hello, handsome! Are you here to teach Spike some manners?" She unclipped the leash and smiled.
A tiny Yorkie came skittering over and growled at Sarge, causing the much larger puppy to collapse in delight and roll over in the acknowledgment that, yes, the Yorkie was boss and could do whatever it wanted.
"Best friends forever," Honor said with a smile. "Come on in. It's chaos, but that's who we are. I'll hang up the leash and put these in some water." She took the flowers and walked off, leaving Em alone.
The periwinkle-blue living room was big and gracious, filled with tasteful furniture, built-in bookshelves and a gorgeous white marble fireplace. Jack and his father were in deep conversation there, each holding a glass of wine in their left hands. Easy to see where Jack got his looks. The older Mr. Holland, Jack's grandfather, stood listening while eating a chunk of cheese the size of a smartphone. The grandmother speculated why on earth Honor had painted the living room this shade of blue when she herself preferred pale blue, then segued into how Abby should beware of white vans, because that's what kidnappers drove.
Em edged toward Jack, overhearing Mrs. Johnson lecturing Tom Barlow on his curry-making technique. Pru and Carl Vanderbeek were arguing over something, Pru doing some magnificent eye rolling. Their son, Ned, was talking with Charlie Kellogg, and Levi stood in the corner, watching as Abby pressed her hands against Faith's belly.
The noise level made Emmaline's eyes throb.
"Hi."
She jumped a little. "Hey, Jack."
He didn't kiss her. "Guys, you all know Emmaline, right?" he asked.
"Hey, girl," Prudence said. "What are you doing here? Did Jack invite you? Wow. He hasn't done that since he brought the Southern belle home. Is there news? You guys engaged or knocked up or something?"
"Jack," said his grandmother, "you should try marriage again. Your grandfather won't be around forever, you know. Don't you want him to have more great-grandchildren? This one has nice breeding hips."
"Goggy!" Faith yelped.
"What? You do, too. Don't worry."
"Leave them alone, guys," Honor said. "Sorry, Emmaline."
"No, no," Em said, feeling slightly sweaty. "Breeding hips are...good. Thank you, Mrs. Holland."
"Hallo, Em," Tom said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. "What would you like to drink?"
A lot, Em thought. "Oh, wine is great," she said.
"Brilliant. Be right back."
The three dogs raced through the living room, then up the stairs, then down
the stairs. Em seemed to be the only one who thought this was perhaps a bit rowdy. Then again, her family dinners consisted of carefully modulated voices swapping bitter insults disguised in psychobabble, compliments from Angela and grunts from herself. Topics of discussion included self-actualization, repressed memories and why Emmaline was wasting her life, with a side of martinis.
Rowdy dogs weren't so bad at all by comparison.
"It's ten after six, Honor, sweetheart," said old Mr. Holland. "Can we eat? What are we, Europeans or something?"
"I'm so glad you're dating my loser uncle," Abby said, bouncing over to Em's side. "Also, would you mind taking me to the firing range? I want to learn how to kill a man."
"Just kiss him," Ned advised. "He'd die of horror."
"Shut up, Ned! Levi, did you know that Ned drove to Geneva on Sunday to see your sister?"
"We're just friends!" Ned said. "Stop glaring at me, Levi. If you hurt me, Faith will be heartbroken."
"Oh, I don't know," Faith said. "I only love you about half the time as it is."
"I'm starving," the grandfather complained. "Can we get this show on the road?"
Levi and Em were the last to go into the dining room, as Jack was pressed into service in the kitchen. "Is it always like this?" Em whispered.
"Yeah," Levi said. "You'll get interrogated over dinner, by the way. Same thing happened to me the first time I came for dinner, and to Tom last spring. Don't worry. They're good people."
"I'm sweating like a farm animal."
"I remember the feeling. Hang in there, Deputy. Think of it as a hostage situation, except you're the hostage this time." He gave her a half smile.
"Thanks, Chief," she said. "You're not so bad sometimes."
"My God. I'm having that engraved."
"I take it back."
They crowded around the table, and Honor, Tom, Mrs. Johnson and Jack emerged from the kitchen laden with platters and dishes. The noise level increased as the food was passed and described and argued over, and before Emmaline managed to sit down, old Mr. Holland and Charlie were taking seconds.
"So, Emmaline, dear," said Mrs. Johnson. "Tell us about your family."
"Oh, uh...well, it's just my parents and sister and me. Angela. She was adopted when I was fourteen."
"So you were an only child until then?"
"That's right."
"Lucky," said Ned and Abby in unison. Charlie snickered.
"And are you close with your parents?" Mrs. Holland asked.
"Oh, sure," she lied.
"Do I know them?" Mrs. Holland asked.
"No, but you might remember my grandmother. Luanne Macomb, my mother's mother? She lived on Water Street, where I live now. I used to spend summers with her, and then I came to live with her when I was in high school."
"Why would you leave your parents?" Mrs. Johnson asked, a fierce frown on her face.
"Mom, will you send me to live somewhere for the rest of high school so I don't have to see Ned all the time?" Abby asked.
"Do it, Mom," Ned added.
"Didn't you go there to play sometimes, Faithie?" Jack's father asked.
"Yep. Em's grandmother would have a few of us down in the summer. She made the best brownies." Faith smiled in fond remembrance.
"So where did you grow up?" Mrs. Johnson asked.
"Southern California," she said.
"Oh, how horrible," Mrs. Holland murmured. "Well, I guess you can't help it."
"It's actually quite beautiful out there, Goggy," Faith said.
"Do you see your parents a lot?" Mrs. Holland asked.
"Leave the girl alone!" old Mr. Holland said. "She hasn't taken one bite of food."
True. It'd be nice if Jack jumped in here and called off the dogs, but he didn't seem to be listening.
"I visit a few times a year, Mrs. Holland," Emmaline said.
"Call me Goggy."
Do I have to? Em thought. "Goggy it is, then."
"Good! Since we're going to be family," the old woman added slyly.
"Stop it, Goggy," Honor said.
"Charlie, tell everyone about your match the other day," Tom said, winking at Emmaline from across the table. "Emmaline, our boy here is becoming quite the boxer."
*
A THOUSAND OR so hours later, Emmaline thanked Honor and Tom once again and led Sarge out into the rain, which felt blissfully cold on her hot face. Jack followed.
The subject of marriage had been broached nine times tonight. Hints about babies, eleven. Goggy (that name!) had expressed her hope that Emmaline and Jack wouldn't "live in sin"; Pops had countered with the opposite opinion. Abby unsubtly requested more cousins. Pru showed Em a website for sex toys called KinkyKitties, making Abby, Ned and Charlie go into fits of horror and hysterics.
It felt like someone had taken sandpaper to her brain.
Jack had barely said a word. And while she didn't want to be a weenie, it would've been nice if her...her...her boyfriend, curse the stupid word, had come to her aid once or twice tonight. She had to wonder why he'd even invited her in the first place.
She put Sarge in the car; the dog was limp with exhaustion at the moment, though that would change the second she started the engine. The rain was harder now, soaking her hair.
"So that was fun," Jack said.
She looked at him. He was serious. "Fun? That was fun? That wasn't fun, Jack."
He frowned. "It wasn't?"
"Right, right, you weren't exactly present, were you? Well, I'm glad you had a good time."
"Didn't you? Everyone really likes you." His phone buzzed, and he looked at it.
"Everyone? Even you? Because you didn't speak to me the entire time."
He looked as if he had no clue what she was talking about. "I didn't?"
"Well, let's recap," she said. "I think you said 'Hi' and...and that was it. Meanwhile, your grandmother was asking about how long my mother was in labor with me, Mrs. Johnson asked how many kids I thought I'd like to have, then actually wrote down the answer, and your niece wants me to teach her to shoot to kill."
"That sounds about right. How many?"
"How many what?'
"How many kids?"
"I told her eighteen. Possibly twenty."
A faint smile crossed his face. "Want to come back to my place?" he asked.
She blinked. Men. "Jack, why are we dating?"
"I have no idea."
Then he kissed her, the two of them standing there in the rain. His mouth was gentle and soft, his body warm against the cool night. Em was torn between the desire to smack him and...and...and to just keep kissing him, because his hands were cradling her head and her arms were around his waist and he knew what he was doing. Yes, indeed, his mouth moving, lips soft and smooth in contrast to the scrape of his razor stubble. "We're together," he murmured against her mouth. "Get used to it."
She stepped back and sucked in a breath of damp, cold air. "You're very unpredictable, Jack."
"In all the best ways. Come up to my place and I'll show you." He grinned, and it was like the sun coming out, causing a flare of warmth in her chest. That smile made her legs hot and wobbly. Made her think of blue-eyed babies, eighteen of them. Okay, fine, maybe not eighteen, but a few, anyway.
Being that he was Jack Holland, he got into his truck and started it, completely confident that she'd follow.
And being that she was rapidly becoming one of those swoony, lovesick females, she did.
Men were confusing.
But you know what? She had a sister, and while Angela might be gay, she was also the smartest person on the continent. She pulled out her cell and hit her sister's number. "How did it go?" Angela asked by way of greeting.
"Um...I have no idea. He's happy now. Barely spoke during dinner. I've been told I have breeder's hips. We're going back to his place."
Ange laughed merrily. "Time to rock his world?"
"I don't know."
"Well, if I may be so forward, Emmaline," Angela bega
n.
"I was hoping you would be." She started up the long winding lane that led to Jack's house.
"Maybe you need to be a little less...careful? A little more heartfelt? Because I sense that you have very deep feelings for Jack, and perhaps it's time he knew. He brought you home to his family...maybe he needs a sign from you, too."
"Like what?"
"That's where I can't really help. But you'll know. You will. I'm heading back now. Would you like me to walk Sarge?"
"No, he's with me. But thanks, Angela. Thanks."
"See you tomorrow, darling."
Em drove up Jack's long driveway and sat there for a second. Lights went on inside the house, and a warm sensation washed over her. The house was beautiful. The man who owned it was beautiful, and he was waiting for her. And Angela was right. Time to rock his world.
"Come on, puppy," she said to her dog, wiping off his paws with the towel she kept in the car for just such a purpose. She carried him inside the mudroom and set him down, then took off her coat and hung it on a hook. Lazarus came to investigate, croaked at Sarge, earning a tail wag and a wary head lick, which the cat endured before skittering off.
Jack was lighting a fire as she entered the living room.
We're together now. Get used to it.
So this wasn't just for sex or a distraction or a human shield for Hadley. Maybe this was real.
The warmth in her chest seemed to expand.
His phone buzzed on the table next to her.
"Probably one of my sisters," he said, adding a log. He stood up and came over, looked at the phone. "Yep. I should sell a few off. You want a glass of wine?"
"Sure." She'd barely had any at dinner.
"I have a nice bottle in the cellar. Be right back." He kissed the top of her head and went downstairs. He hadn't said boo at his family's, but he was making up for it now. She could live with that. She wasn't perfect, either.
Sarge went over to the fireplace, turned in a circle five times, then curled up. Lazarus approached, warily, then lay down near the puppy's head.
Aw. They liked each other.
Jack's phone buzzed again. And again. In fact, it was vibrating right to the edge of the table. Without thinking, Em picked it up before it fell.
And then, before she could even make a case against it, she looked at the screen.
Pru: We like her, Useless. Are you guys naked already? Don't let her see those ugly-ass pajamas Honor bought you for Christmas. In fact, burn those.
Faith: You should've talked more tonight, dummy. She looked like a deer in the headlights. Tell her she doesn't have breeder hips even if that will come in handy later. Takes one to know one.
In Your Dreams Page 30
