Stay(68)

It’s almost as if she’s wearing the dress version of my black coat and tie.

“You look…” I put my hand on my stomach. “Incredible.”

Her full lips are painted deep red, and at my words, they split into the happiest, white smile. After the gift of telling her Eli had come out of the coma, this is my second favorite memory with her.

“Thank you.” She does a little nod. “I guess it’s time?”

“It’s time.”



* * *



Jazz music plays softly, and as we walk toward the three-arched entry to the Loeb Boathouse, the sound of laughter drifts through the air to greet us. I stop her in the quiet and pull her close.

“I want to kiss you.”

Her red lips part with her smile. “You’ll smudge my makeup.”

“You should never wear makeup. You’re a natural beauty.”

Shaking her head, she pulls away. “Hold that thought a few minutes. I’d like to make an entrance before you muss me.”

Pulling her hand into the crook of my elbow, I cut her a glance. “I’ll do more than muss you.”

We enter the massive gala, and at once Bex is with us, leading us through the throng, introducing us to people she says we know, but I don’t. It’s like a really enormous family reunion meets high school reunion meets social event of the year.

The band starts playing “Hey, Paula,” and I take Emmy’s hand, leading her to the dance floor. She does a little frown, but I pull her to my chest, tucking my nose at her ear. “It’s what they want.”

“I never took you for such a people pleaser.” Her sassy tone is back. I’ve missed it.

“I can count on one hand the people in this world I care to please. Bex is one of them.”

We continue swaying. I love the feel of her in my arms. Her cheek is against mine, she smells like heaven, and my mind is ahead of us a few hours to what I hope comes next.

We took a questionable route to get here, but maybe it took something unorthodox to bring us to this place. We’re in our own little bubble of bliss, and I’m ready to make my move when she stiffens.

My reflexes go on alert, and I look around. “What’s wrong?”

Stepping back, I see her jaw is set. Her eyes are narrowed and looking past my shoulder. I pivot to see fucking Burt smirking at us from a few couples away.

The Dick. What is he doing here?

He doesn’t waste time crossing the floor to where we stand. Peg is on his arm. “I have to hand it to you, Em. I knew you were cold-hearted, but I never expected to see you out partying a week after your son almost died. I guess that’s just the sort of mercenary you are.”

Emmy’s cheeks drain of color, and her hand loosens in mine, like she’s letting me go.

I pull her to me, stepping in Burt’s face. “Why the fuck are you here?”

“Peg has her mail forwarded to the penthouse now. When I saw the invitation and realized what it was about, I realized it was my duty to set the record straight. I needed to come here and tell our unsuspecting family and friends what you two are up to.”

The last thing I need is bullshit from The Dick. “What the fuck—”

But he cuts me off. “I’ll take care of it now.” He picks up a wine glass and begins tapping it with a spoon. “Ladies and gentleman, I’d like to propose a toast. Can I have your attention?”

Emmy shrinks back, her hand falling from mine. I turn and follow her, confused by her behavior. The music stops, and the voices slowly die down.

Standing by her side at a back table, I look up at Burt. He’s on a chair, acting proud like the pompous asshole he is. Peg is beside him, and someone hands him a microphone.

“Is this on?” The speakers whistle as he taps the mic a few times. “I know, you’re probably wondering why the hell I’m giving a toast for my ex-wife.” He holds up a hand, nodding like he’s in charge. “Actually, this is for you, and I promise, it’s rich.”

A few people laugh nervously, looking around. My aunt looks up at him, her eyebrows pulled together in confusion. I slide a hand into my pocket, doing my best to grin and not make a scene.

Burt lifts his glass, speaking loudly. “To the two greatest actors I’ve ever known.”

Emmy is no longer at my side. She’s gone quickly to where Burt is standing and is pulling his coat.

Her voice is quiet, urgent… begging. “Please don’t do this.”

He glances down, menace in his smile. “I have to give you credit, you’re good. You made fools of us all.”

My jaw clenches, and I start forward, but Alyssa steps in front of me, glaring. “Is it true, Stephen?”

Why the fuck is Alyssa here? “Is what true?”

“Burt told me. He said I should come and ask you.” I put my hands on her arms, ready to move her aside so I can get to Emmy.

“Now it’s time to tell your friends and family the truth.” His voice grows louder with every word. “Did you marry Stephen Hastings because you were in love with him? Or did you whore yourself out for his money?”

Emmy’s hand drops along with her chin, and a low hum filters through the crowd.

Alyssa’s voice is in my face. “Is it true?”

Anger blazes to life in my chest, and I move her to the side, charging forward, ready to rip Burt down by his neck.