“Thanks.” Emily brushed the front of her dress, smoothing it out. “Am I missing anything downstairs?”
Blair sat on the edge of the bed and grimaced. “Yeah… That’s why I came up.”
“What?” Emily asked, sitting down next to her. Did she really want to hear what Blair had to tell her? From the look on her face, she doubted it.
Blair leaned in. “Can I ask you a serious question?”
“Of course.”
“How do you feel about Patrick? Sienna told me you’re hitting it off.”
Emily didn’t want to get into this conversation because she didn’t know herself how to feel about Patrick. It was probably better to nip it in the bud. “He’s a nice guy. But I have to go back to my life.”
Blair nodded.
“What’s going on?” Emily asked, alarmed by the serious expression on Blair’s face.
“Will has been making all of us guard the steps to let him know if you were coming down. He sent me to get you.” She chewed on her lip. “And Patrick’s here.”
“Wait, ‘guard the steps’—why?”
“He’s been putting together this elaborate setup while Patrick has been cooking in the kitchen with a full view of it all. Sienna and Tyson tried to pull Will aside and talk some sense into him, and Rocko and I suggested he wait until you two were back home, but he refused to listen.”
“What is he doing?”
“It’s probably better for you to see for yourself.” Blair got up and took her arm. She walked Emily over to the bedroom door and gestured down the hall.
At the top of the stairs, Emily peered down at silk-rose-petal-covered steps.
“What is this?” she whispered, her breath shallow.
But she didn’t wait for an answer. She started down the stairs, her blood boiling. In his usual manner, Will was thinking entirely about himself. He’d selfishly pursued another woman,selfishly asked for his and Emily’s home for his own purposes, and now, he was putting on this extravagant show—for who? Not her. He’d made itsoundlike all this was for her, but it wasn’t. It was to save his own backside. He had realized he’d ruined what they had, and he was scared. Lanie wasn’t who he expected, and he was going to be alone, so he’d come back with his tail between his legs.
The bottom of the steps wasn’t any less infuriating. The trail continued into the living room. Emily rounded the corner to find Will, all spruced up, standing with a velvet box in his hands and the rest of her friends looking on with unease. That alone would’ve been enough to deal with. But the light rattle in the open kitchen drew her eye to Patrick, who was making dinner. His attention fluttered between her and Will as he fumbled with a piece of tin foil.
“What’s going on?” Emily asked, turning back to Will.
Will loped toward her and took her hands, the velvet box wedged between her fingers and his. “I made a mess of things in a huge way,” he said. “And there’s no reason for you to take me back. But on the small chance that you might, I thought I’d try. I know we’d have a long way to go, and I’m willing to go to counseling—whatever I need to do. It took losing everything to realize how stupid I was. I love you, and I didn’t fully appreciate how wonderful you are.”
Emily stood on the precipice between her old life and her new one. A couple of weeks ago, she’d have fallen into Will’s arms if he’d confessed like this, but now she didn’t want to have anything to do with him. He’d wrecked her entire life and left her to pick up the pieces.
Will let go of her hands and opened the box to reveal an incredibly huge oval diamond surrounded by smaller diamonds cascading down the band. This new gem dwarfed her old one. She made eye contact with him for an explanation.
He grinned at her. “I sold a song. Let’s just say that we don’t have to worry about the bills for a while.” He took the ring from the velvet cushion and held it out to her. “I know I can’t buy you back, but I hope this shows my commitment. Let’s start over. I want to date you again, take it slow.” His face looked as if it wanted to crumple with emotion, but he held it together. For her or for himself?
A clatter in the kitchen cut through the moment. She turned, but Patrick had bent over, collecting whatever he’d dropped. A small celebratory cake sat on the counter. They certainly wouldn’t be celebrating this. She prayed Patrick hadn’t spent too long making it, given all his work at the restaurant that day.
Emily’s hands trembled, and she was lightheaded, struggling to get a breath. The room felt like as if it was closing in on her, her vision tunneling. She looked over at Patrick again, but her vision was blurred.
She needed to get out of there.
“I want to be alone.”
She turned around, ran out of the room, up the stairs, and sat on her bed. Gasping, she hung her head between her knees to regain her composure, but she only felt worse. She lay back on her bed, struggling to breathe. Only then did the tears slide down her temples. For what, she wasn’t sure—the loss of who she was, the absolute mortification she’d just experienced, or the absolute fear she had knowing, once and for all, that she did not want to be with Will.
After some time, the modern iron chandelier in the vaulted ceiling slowly came into focus through her tears. Her mind was a muddle. Everyone else had benefited from being here, but she’d only managed to make things worse by falling head over heels for a guy she’d never see again. And Patrick had just watched that entire exchange. Things would certainly be awkward now.
But that niggling thought came back with a vengeance: Perhaps it was for the best. Maybe this was meant to happen to keep her from falling too hard for this mysterious stranger. “Stranger” was the wrong word for him, though. He already felt like a friend, someone she got excited to see.
