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“I thought so. Balls,” she muttered, wiping her tears with the back of her hand.
“Evie.” I frowned deeply when I realized she was thinking not just of Emmett and me, but of her and Mike. “Oh no, bub.” As she started fully crying, I set aside all our wine and ice cream so that I could wrap her up in my arms, letting Ozzy join in on the group hug since he’d started whimpering over the sound of her tiny sobs. “Everything’s going to be okay,” I murmured, holding her tight, smiling when I heard her weepy giggle over Ozzy’s aggressive kisses. “I know there are points where it doesn’t seem like it,” I said as our roles for the night swiftly reversed. “But I promise everything’s going to turn out fine.”
31
EMMETT
In the morning, I stayed for coffee before taking the subway back downtown to my apartment. I didn’t usually take the train much, but I felt like I needed it this morning to reset. The past two nights had been hard. Mentally exhausting, really, and I needed my brain to be a clean slate for the gala tonight.
So after walking cross-town, I hopped the A train and spent the twenty-minute ride people watching. I got off a few stops early to walk and feel the sun on my shoulders, and by the time I was in my elevator, my head was at least a little bit clearer.
But I knew I wasn’t completely out of the woods yet.
I’d done damage control on the whirlwind that took over the last few nights, but I knew I still had the situation with Aly to fix. She hadn’t texted me back yesterday when I said I couldn’t come home, and after letting two of my calls go to voicemail at night, she finally sent a quick text saying she was fine and she’d see me soon.
And most of the time, that text from a girl was my green light to go on with my day – even when I knew that “I’m fine” never actually meant “I’m fine.” But once upon a time, I was also an asshole who was happy to do the bare minimum of communicating, so if I asked what was wrong and got an “I’m fine,” then I was in the clear. I’d tried.
But I couldn’t be quite as relaxed when it came to Aly.
I couldn’t help but feel anxious and suspect that I’d fucked things up with her on the night that I needed her most, so after I got into my apartment and showered, I canceled my noon meeting, made a note to cancel Ozzy’s walker, and arranged for a car to take me to the heliport. All I wanted was to get to the Hamptons, find Aly at work and take in the comfort of her scent as I wrapped my arms around her tight.
That was all I needed to feel okay. I knew that, so when I saw the car waiting for me when I got out of the building, I could feel my heart already lift at the idea of being that much closer to her.
But I’d gotten barely two steps into the courtyard when my phone rang. I froze, and when I looked down at the screen, my heart sagged again.
“Everything okay?” I answered without saying hello.
“Yes. I think so. But… are you available to talk for a minute?” she asked.
Her voice was trembling and she was trying to hide it, but I’d always been good at detecting her lies. I quietly drew in a breath, letting it out inaudibly before excusing myself to wave off the car. Then I walked over to the closest bench, sat down and returned the phone to my ear.
“Okay. I’m here,” I said. “Talk to me.”
The gala was being held at the Atrium, a historic bank-turned-party venue that was the go-to spot for any event my family held. I’d been attending parties there for over twenty years now, and I knew the place by heart, starting with the grand pillared entrance manned by Keith and Barry, the same mustachioed doormen who’d been working there since the eighties.
After catching up with them, I strode down the same marble hallway to the main ballroom that all the Hoult Foundation galas were held in. I smiled at Paula, the venue liaison who came up to brief me on all the recent conversations she’d had with Britt and my events planning company. Mid-conversation with her, Julian showed up to let me know that our tuxes had just been messengered over.
Everything was running on time. It was all routine and completely familiar.
But I was still an anxious wreck.
Because even before noon, Aly’s phone had been going directly to voicemail, and it stayed like that even as the gala was well underway.
“E. You gotta stop doing that. I can’t be the only one getting anxious just from looking at you.” Drew tugged at the collar of his tux as he watched me check the door for the tenth time in a minute. “Just take it easy for a second, alright? She’s probably just doing her hair or something.”
“She knows this thing started an hour ago. And she doesn’t take that long to do her hair.”
Drew furrowed his forehead as he searched himself for an explanation
“Lipstick? Shit, I don’t know. Boss. Help me out here,” he said just as Julian came by with a tumbler of Scotch.
“You looked like you needed it,” he said to me before cocking an eyebrow at Drew. “What’s going on with him?”
“He’s worried the girl’s not coming.”
“Aly?” Julian faced me. “If she’s here as your date, you should keep in mind that Mom is also here and if she catches onto what’s happening, she’s going to spend the night scheduling when you two start trying.”
“You told her about your wife being pregnant?” Drew asked.
