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A warning bell went off in the back of her mind. It wasn’t like Jason to be so pushy. But as he waited silently, letting the implications of his unsaid words sink in, she realized that if she didn’t sell her house, it would be akin to telling him she didn’t have faith in their relationship. That she wanted a back up plan just in case things went wrong.
But nothing was going to go wrong this time, she was sure of it. Or almost sure of it, anyway.
Angry with herself for not having the guts, the faith, and certainly not anywhere near the kind of self-esteem she needed to be certain of Jason’s love for her, Emma forced a smile.
“Of course, you’re right. I guess things have been moving so fast that I haven’t been thinking of all the details.”
“You work with lots of real estate agents in your line of work, don’t you?”
She nodded. “Yes, I do.”
“Why don’t you call one now, get the ball rolling? I’ll bet a place like this gets snapped up pretty fast in Palo Alto.”
Numbly, she pulled out her cell phone. He was right, of course he was. No time like the present to close out the rest of her past, a past she wanted nothing to do with anymore.
Eighteen
Jason almost felt bad about what he was making Emma do. Almost, but not quite. Because even though he was taking away her potential refuge, this house was bad for her.
It reeked of submission and sadness and he couldn’t stand the idea of Emma going back to this house after he dumped her ass. Yes, he wanted to hurt her, just like she’d hurt him. But then, when enough time had passed, he actually found himself hoping that she’d find the guts to create a good life for herself.
One that she really wanted to live. Not one that some decorator hired by her status-obsessed mother had put together for her.
The painting he’d just loaded into his car spoke volumes about the real Emma. Too bad he’d never be able to trust that girl. Too much had come between them, too many lies, too much pride.
When he walked back inside the house she was throwing clothes into a huge beige heap in the middle of her enormous walk-in closet.
“Nice packing technique.”
“I’m not packing.”
He raised an eyebrow and surveyed the growing heap. “Then what, exactly, are you doing?”
A smile played on her lips as she emptied an entire wing of the closet onto the floor. “I’m giving everything away to charity.”
“That’s too bad,” he said, grinning. “Some poor unsuspecting lady might accidentally buy these clothes.
And wear them.” He faked a shiver of fright.
Hands on her hips, she said, “What’s your brilliant suggestion?”
“We could burn them.”
She looked disbelieving for a moment and then laughed. “It’s not a bad idea, but unfortunately there’s plenty of wear in most of this stuff.”
Jason picked up a truly boring khaki dress that he was certain would have washed Emma’s pale features away entirely. “Calvin Klein. And it’s still got the tags on.”
Her face crumbled. “Isn’t that horrible? I was so depressed with my life that I shopped to fill the void.”
She didn’t seem to expect any reply. “Which obviously didn’t work because I was just buying more of the same awful stuff.”
Jason hated that he felt sorry for her and realized he had two choices. Either say something he was going to regret later, like “Don’t feel bad, everyone makes mistakes.” Or pick up an armful of clothes and take them out to the car.
He chose option two. “I’ll load the car up and do a drop-off at the donation center on University Avenue.”
Any excuse to get out of this prison Emma had called home. Steven’s uptight, smug vibes fairly radiated off the walls.
Shit, while he was at it, once he dropped the clothes off, maybe he’d stop by a bar for a quick drink. He needed something to make it through the rest of the day.
Jason hadn’t spent a lot of time near the Stanford campus since he’d graduated. He’d been perfectly happy to carve out a new life in the wine country, which seemed so far removed from this suburbia, even though it was only ninety minutes away.
Looking around at the soccer moms in their huge, unnecessary SUVs and the stressed-out college
students downing espresso shots while pretending to study at sidewalk cafés, he wasn’t terribly surprised to find he didn’t miss it.
He liked his life in Napa, his work as a chef, the respect he received from his colleagues and fellow locals alike. Trust Emma to come back into his life to make him question everything he’d been comfortable with for so long.
It wasn’t that something was missing in his life. Well, that wasn’t exactly true, he acknowledged, as he passed heaps of Emma’s unworn clothes over to the Goodwill volunteer. He’d almost gotten married a couple of times, both women the polar opposites of Emma. Lush brunettes, as free with their bodies and appetites as they were with their emotions. He’d thought they were women he could be happy with, spend the rest of his life with, have kids, the whole nine yards. But both women had called things off not long after the engagement, calling him emotionally unavailable. Saying he didn’t know what he wanted.
Accusing him of always prioritizing his work over them.
They were right about that last complaint. He always had been more comfortable spending long hours in his kitchen rather than going home early for a cozy drink by the fire.
Emma was the only woman he’d ever cut out on work for. Rocco had commented on it this morning,
saying, “Never seen you take two days off in one week, boss. You feeling all right?”
Jason had insisted, “Never been better. Just have some important things to take care of.”
He could practically feel Rocco’s disapproval reverberating through the phone. “You gotta do what you gotta do, boss.”
“Damn right I do,” Jason said, slamming his cell phone shut, wondering exactly where Rocco got off acting so high and mighty about treating women right when Rocco was as big a player as they came.
Granted, he’d never acted out of a premeditated plan for revenge.
Jason was getting back in his car when he heard a familiar voice calling out his name. “Jason! Wait up.”
“Kate,” he said, reaching out to give Emma’s best friend a hug. “How’s it going?”
He’d always liked Kate, never blamed her in any way for what Emma had done. In fact, back in college, he’d wished he could have fallen for a girl like Kate. Someone easy and uncomplicated. A girl without a steel rod up her ass.
