"Emma." I force my voice to sound casual even though my pulse is racing. "You should have called first."
"I did call. Three times. You didn't answer." Her gaze travels over my bare chest showing through the gaping holes where Imissed the buttons, my hastily buttoned pants, my disheveled state. "Were you sleeping?"
"Yes. I was sleeping." The lie tastes bitter. "It's Sunday morning. People sleep in on Sunday mornings."
"It's almost nine." She crosses her arms over her chest. "You're never in bed past seven."
"Well, I was tired." I run my hand through my hair, trying to smooth it down. "Long week."
Emma's eyes narrow further. "Are you alone?"
"Of course I'm alone." Another lie. I'm going straight to hell. "Why would you ask that?"
"Because there are three cars in your driveway, Dad. Three. And one of them is a beat-up Honda Civic that I'm pretty sure belongs to Mia Wilson."
My stomach drops. I'd forgotten about the cars. Of course she noticed the cars.
"I can explain that."
"I'm sure you can." Emma's voice turns cold. "Is it true? The rumors about you and her?"
"Emma, this isn't the time."
"Then when is the time?" Her voice rises. "When were you planning to tell me you're sleeping with your employee? With the woman I competed against in high school? With someone young enough to be your daughter?"
"She's twenty-seven years old. She's not a child."
"She's eighteen years younger than you!"
"Emma, please." I hold up my hands. "Can we discuss this later? Somewhere private?"
"Why? So you can come up with a better lie?" She narrows her eyes. "Your house isn't private enough?" She pushes past me toward the stairs. "I left my laptop charger in the guest room last time I was here. I'm just going to grab it and go."
"Wait." I catch her arm but she shakes me off and storms up the stairs. My heart pounds so hard I think it might burst through my chest. I follow her, trying to think of something, anything, to stop what's about to happen.
Emma reaches the top of the stairs and freezes.
Mia stands in the hallway outside my bedroom, wearing only my white dress shirt. The fabric barely covers her thighs. Her legs are bare, her feet are bare, and there's no mistaking what she's been doing in my bed.
Behind her, through the open bedroom door, Blake and Noah are clearly visible. Blake is shirtless, his muscular chest on full display, trying to button his jeans. Noah has his shirt on inside out and backwards, his cracked glasses sitting crooked on his face.
The four of us stare at Emma.
Emma stares back at us.
The silence stretches so long I can hear my own heartbeat thundering in my ears.
Emma's face cycles through shock, disbelief, disgust, and finally something that looks almost like vindictive satisfaction. Her mouth opens. Closes. Opens again.
"Well," she says, her voice deadly calm. "This explains a lot."
21
MIA
Emma Lewis stands at the top of the stairs, her gray-blue eyes wide with shock as she takes in the scene before her. Me, wearing nothing but Jack's white dress shirt that barely covers my thighs. Blake behind me, shirtless and struggling with his jeans. Noah visible through the bedroom doorway, his shirt on inside out and backwards, his cracked glasses sitting crooked on his face.
It's obvious what we've been doing. My face turns so hot I'm surprised it's not on fire. The silence stretches so long I can hear my own heartbeat thundering in my ears.
