So be it.
Of course, the other side of the door wasn’t empty as I’d hoped it might be. Evergreen swags hung from the porch railings, tied with shiny red bows. Juliet had arranged chairs in intimate seating arrangements scattered over the wide porch, and most of them were filled with people from the Tampa organization.
On the plus side, though, just beyond the doorway, one of the bartender stations was set up. Perfect. I requested three fingers of whiskey, straight up, and once I had it, I kept walking. Reaching into the pocket of my leather jacket, I pulled out the black Tom Ford sunglasses Juliet had bought for me and slipped them over my eyes. Wearing them might have made me look like an asshole, but it also meant that I didn’t have to meet anyone’s eye. I leaned on the porch railing, looking out over my yard, and wondered how the hell I’d let this happen.
Not just the party, but everything in my life right now. All of it. I’d only wanted to be left alone, to sit in the dark by myself, to drink myself to oblivion. But somehow, I’d ended up practically living with a woman I didn’t care about, having mostly meaningless sex with her on the regular, and throwing a Christmas party for a bunch of people who no longer mattered to me.
Fuck me.
There were cars everywhere in my yard, it seemed. Juliet had contracted for valets to handle the parking, but even the neat rows looked overwhelming to me. And even as I stared out morosely, another car appeared at the end of my long, winding drive.
But this blue sedan was familiar, and my heart began to beat a little faster. I stood up straighter and watched in silence as the car rolled to a stop by the valet station. Deacon jumped out first and came around as one of the valets opened Emma’s door. Deacon handed over the keys and then took Emma’s hand, kissing her knuckles before he drew her toward him.
I watched my friends approach the house, feeling a strange mixture of resentment and anticipation. I hadn’t seen Deacon since his wedding, and I hadn’t seen Emma since she’d visited me in the hospital. When Juliet had put together her guest list, she’d asked me if she should invite ‘those doctor friends of yours’. For a startled moment, I’d thought she meant Alison, too, but she’d quickly added, “You know, the ones who just got married.”
I’d shrugged and said she should do whatever she wanted, but I’d secretly hoped that maybe Emma and Deacon might show up. I was well aware that I’d been an asshole to my best friend for the last few months. This party, for all of the agony it had caused me, might be my chance to apologize.
And I’d seen Juliet’s suggestion as a peace offering. She’d known that I didn’t want this party, and this was her way of giving me something positive from the whole mess.
In the ten days since I’d given in to Juliet’s request for a party, I had noticed that her behavior had been . . . odd. Not all of the time; often, she seemed to be her normal, happy self. But even then, now that I thought about it, it was almost like she was trying too hard. She was preoccupied with the party prep, yes, but I’d also caught her brooding once or twice, staring out the window with a frown on her face and her eyes heavy with . . . regret? Sorrow? I didn’t know.
And then about a week ago, I had stuck my head out of the bathroom to ask Juliet to bring me a fresh towel for my shower. She’d been standing with her back to me, her head bent, and at the sound of my voice, she’d jumped as though I’d caught her in a guilty act. And though I couldn’t swear to it, when I looked back on it later, I’d thought my phone had been on my nightstand when I’d gone into the bathroom.
But afterwards, I’d found it on the table in the kitchen.
It had left me suspicious and wondering what she’d been up to. I didn’t trust her. Half the time, I wasn’t even sure I liked her. So why the fuck was she living in my house, acting like she belonged here?
I shook off that vague worry now, though, as Deacon and Emma climbed the porch steps. Emma’s expression was guarded as she approached me, and I noticed that Deacon kept his hand on her back. They both stopped a few feet short of me.
Emma cleared her throat. “Hello, Noah. You look—good.” Her eyes roved down me, and one of her brows rose. “I didn’t realize this was the kind of party where people could go shirtless.”
I tossed back my last swallow of whiskey. “Em. You look good, too.” I smirked. “You should know that in my mind, topless is always an option when it comes to you.” Ignoring her small gasp of outrage, I shifted my gaze upwards a little. “Deacon. Glad you could both be here today. Gotta wonder who’s saving the world at St. Agnes while you’re gone, though.”
I’d meant the words to be a light jest, just a little tease, the way we always joked around. But I could see from the way Emma’s eyes flared that she wasn’t taking it that way.
“I’m happy you’re feeling better, Noah.” Deacon spoke up, and I wondered if he was trying to be conciliatory, to soothe some of his wife’s mad. “Last time I saw you, it was in the ICU, and you weren’t waking up.” He glanced around. “This is better.”
“I guess so.” I lifted my glass, realized it was empty and muttered a soft curse. “Do y’all want a drink? I’m getting a refill.”
“Do you think you need one, Noah?” Emma wrinkled her nose. “I can smell the liquor on you from here.”
“Chill, Em. It’s a party. You know, where people drink and have fun. You should try it some time.” I limped toward the bartender. “Deacon?”
“Uh—” He glanced at his wife. “A beer would be good.”
“Coming right up. White wine, Emma? Pretty sure we have some Riesling.”
She didn’t answer for a moment, and then she nodded. “Fine. Thanks.”
The bartender handed over our drinks, and I leaned my head toward the far end of the porch. “Let’s sit down. My knee’s starting to ache.”
For several long and awkward minutes, we sat and drank in silence. When Emma spoke up, her voice was so low that I had to lean in to hear her.
“I was surprised to get the invitation. I didn’t think—you haven’t answered my calls. Or replied to my texts. I thought you’d cut me out of your life.”
The obvious pain in her voice made me flinch. Of all the people in the world who were on my shit list right now, Emma wasn’t one of them. That I’d inadvertently hurt her was unforgivable.
“I’m sorry, Em.” I stared down at the glass in my hands. “I didn’t . . . it wasn’t about you. It’s me. I didn’t want to see anyone, talk to anyone. I want to be alone.”
