It had taken me a long time to realize that I didn’t want what Claudia had to offer at all.
The kind of person I wanted dedicated her time and effort to helping other people. She was whip smart and sexy and sweet and she had always liked me for me. Or at least, the person I tried to be. Emzee made me want to be a better person.
“Whatever,” Claudia said. “All I’m saying is, maybe you weren’t ready for marriage. Maybeshewasn’t.”
I didn’t like the look in her eyes. It was one I’d seen before. Whenever she had a secret or some good gossip and was just waiting for it to explode so she could watch the ugly aftermath. Of course, she was usually the one who did something to make it explode.
“You are the last person,” I told her, leaning in close, “that I need relationship advice from. Last time I checked, you were still single.”
Her eyes widened, and I knew I’d hit a nerve.
With a huff, she spun on her stiletto and flounced away. Good riddance.
I got a fresh drink and circled the room again, to no avail. As much as I hated to admit it, what Claudia had said—about me and Emzee not being ready for marriage—did make sense. How could it not? We’d gotten married basically on a whim. My whim. I’d coerced her into marrying me temporarily, just to piss my parents off and keep them off my back about the whole getting-back-together-with-Claudia nonsense. Not that Claudia (or anyone else) knew that.
And yeah, Emzee had been resistant from the beginning. I’d blamed her hesitation on a dozen things, but I’d never considered that she wasn’t actually ready to be married. Especially since I was the groom. It was no secret that she’d been in love with me since high school.
Then again, it was obvious she had a lot of trust issues when it came to relationships. She’d never been in a long-term one before. In fact, our seven-year friendship was probably the longest non-family relationship that Emzee had ever had. Of course I’d done nothing but take advantage of it, since day one.
My gut twisted.
Maybe I’d moved too fast with all that Love Talk earlier today. Maybe it was too much, too soon. Maybe it was too much to ask of a girl with all her trust issues, assuming she’d simply drop them just because I defended her to my parents.
I probably just needed to give her some time to process. Between my declaration of love and the fight with my parents and the fundraiser, she had to be feeling completely overwhelmed.
Suddenly, I realized that it was the first time I’d come to her defense because I wanted to, and not out of guilt over what had happened to her in high school.
Not that she could ever know what really happened back then.
Nowthatwould ruin everything.
Ford
Chapter 2
“What an incredible night, huh?” I said, reaching my arm around Emzee to rub her shoulder.
It was almost midnight. After the fundraiser had finally wound down, we’d dealt with some administrative tasks and now we stood outside waiting for the car service to arrive.
“Mm,” she replied, edging out of my grasp.
So she was still upset. And at this point, it seemed unlikely it had anything do with the event. It was something to do with me. Great.
At least we were headed home. I had never in my life been so glad for a party to end. Back in my single days, I would have been gearing up for the after-party, not wanting the evening to end, happy to just keep the drinks flowing and have a good time with my friends.
That was all behind me. Married life had made me a homebody. Well, not just that. It was Emzee specifically. She’d taught me to appreciate a night in, taught me the true meaning of Netflix and chill in the most literal sense, and yeah, I was excited to see Munchkin after work so he could attack me with slobbery French bulldog kisses. But I had no idea what would happen once we got back to the apartment tonight. If my wife would have a conversation with me, or even be willing to sleep in the same room.
I’d barely gotten a moment alone with her all evening, which I’d convinced myself was the result of her being in such high demand. She’d done amazingly well, just as I knew she would. Working her magic, schmoozing with potential donors, charming their damn socks off and getting those wallets open. See Yourself had already earned money from the fundraiser tickets, of course, but the organization was going to reap the benefits of this night long term, thanks to the fact that it had shined a bright, positive light on the charity and welcomed a whole new batch of donors to the fold. And it was all because of Emzee’s passion and hard work.
“Did you get a chance to talk to the reporter from theTribune?” I asked, trying to warm her up. “She was pretty impressed by See Yourself’s mission statement. I saw her making the rounds and chatting up the guests, but she told me she wanted to interview you too.”
“We spoke,” Emzee said, not even turning in my direction.
“I’m sure it went well. What about the guy taking notes for theSun-Timesand whomever theDaily Heraldsent?”
Whirling toward me, Emzee glared. “Yes, Ford, I chatted up every single guest, rubbed every last elbow, and met every fucking obligation that I had tonight. Claudia certainly covered all the PR bases with her invitations. Maybeshe’sthe one you should be congratulating.”
Frowning, I said, “It’s your charity, Em, and this was your event. I’m congratulatingyou. Why are you pissed at me? What did I do?”
