Wish You Were Gone(63)

“Yes, well, our families are friends.” For the first time in her life, Lizzie understood what it meant to feel hot around the collar. Even though she wasn’t wearing a collar. And instead of anger making her body temperature rise, it was fear. Pure, white-hot fear.

JJ’s—Janet’s—eyebrows rose. “That’s interesting.”

“You’re not still with Garrison and Walsh.”

Lizzie glanced around the room and saw that Emma was with Gray now, over by the windows, the two of them chatting up Jennifer Mahone. The model must have been a no-show.

“No, no, no. I left ages ago. I have my own advertising firm now. Thank God. That company was a toxic place for women. I’m surprised anyone survived.” She looked Lizzie up and down, then sipped her wine. Lizzie cast about for something to say to end this conversation, but she couldn’t seem to remember any useful words. Then JJ noticed someone over Lizzie’s shoulder. “If you’ll excuse me. My girlfriend just arrived.”

She turned sideways to slide past Lizzie, but paused a few feet away. “I hope you got everything you wanted, Elizabeth. Some way or another.”





EMMA


Emma had finally found Jasmine Missoni. The woman didn’t speak a word of English. And while she wouldn’t necessarily put it past James to sleep with her anyway, the model had been on the arm of the single hottest male Emma had ever seen in real life—a soccer star from Italy who had almost made her knees buckle telling her that his heart was with her at this terrible time. If Jasmine Missoni could get a man like that, she wasn’t looking twice at James Walsh.

Where was Gray? She hadn’t seen her since she’d spoken to Jelena. Darnell was in the corner holding court with some of the NFL players in attendance. It was possible Gray was with him and just dwarfed by their bulk. She started across the room, when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“She’s here. Jenny Mahone.”

It was Gray, having just walked back in from the hall. She lifted her chin discreetly and Emma saw the woman, wearing a tasteful black fit-and-flare dress, shaking hands with Hunter near James’s urn. A tall man with dark skin stood with his hand on the small of her back, his hair salt-and-pepper, a diamond earring winking on his left earlobe.

“Who’s that with her?”

“Husband, apparently. He’s some bigwig at Under Armour.”

Emma surveyed the seemingly perfect couple. Jenny Mahone looked over, as if she could feel the heat of Emma’s stare. The second they locked eyes, Jenny looked away.

“Oh, God. Did you see that?” Emma said. “It’s her. It has to be.”

“Stay here,” Gray told her.

It took Gray less than five minutes to separate Jenny from her husband and drag her over to Emma, who was just parting ways with the commissioner of the NHL. It really was amazing how many important people had carved out time to be here. Somewhere, James was feeling mighty full of himself. The thought made Emma want to take his urn and throw it through one of the huge windows over the basketball court. Especially when she saw Jenny up close. Her glowing brown skin, her high cheekbones, her flawless eye makeup.

“Jenny Mahone, this is Emma Walsh.”

With all the poise of a woman whose life was lived on television, Jenny held out a hand. “Mrs. Walsh. I’m so sorry for your loss. I wish we could have met under different circumstances.”

“Were you sleeping with my husband?”

“Oh, okay. We’re just going there,” Gray said as Emma glanced from Jenny’s outstretched fingers to her face.

The answer was written clear as day. The woman was an ESPN reporter, not an actress. She glanced over her shoulder, and her hair let out a lovely rose-based scent as it moved. Once certain her husband was out of earshot, she leaned in toward Emma.

“Did he tell you that?” she whispered.

“No, I found the cuff links you gave him for Valentine’s Day.”

Jenny blinked. “That was six years ago.”

Tiny blue and purple spots peppered Emma’s vision. “You’ve been together for six years?”

“What? No! Not…” She took Emma’s arm and tried to tug her toward the wall but Emma wouldn’t—couldn’t—move. She was worried if she took a step, she might just keel over. Jenny huffed an impatient sigh that made Emma want to slap her.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Are we inconveniencing you?” Gray demanded. “You’re the one who slept with her husband.”

“Yes, I know. But my husband is right over there.” Jenny lifted a hand at her side. “We weren’t married when James and I were… a thing, but we were dating. And we have two kids now and a good marriage. I’m sorry, I know I have no right to ask this, but I just don’t want him to know.”

“So it’s been over for how long?” Emma asked, trying to keep up.

“Over five years. It only even lasted a couple of months,” Jenny said quietly. “I was only twenty-two. Just a kid. I know that’s not an excuse, but to say I had no clue what I was doing is an understatement. I was interning at G and W at the time and I was…” She took a deep breath and straightened up. “Well, I was an asshole. I’m sorry if I caused you any pain. But, for what it’s worth, that’s not the person I am now.”