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My fists clench involuntarily at the memory. Gemma's situation is different, I remind myself. However I try to rationalize it, my gut still twists.
Gemma's breaths come in short, panicked gasps. “This dress is too tight.”
She races to the dressing room, the heavy skirt gathered in her fists.
The door slams shut behind her.
Mrs. Ainsley glances at me uncertainly. “Should I check on her?”
“I've got this.” I set the magazine aside and cross the room in long strides. I rap my knuckles lightly on the door. “Gemma? Talk to me.”
A muffled sob reaches my ears. My chest constricts at the sound. “Go away, please.” Despite her words, I hear the unspoken plea. She needs me.
I try the handle. Unlocked. Taking a breath, I step inside.
Gemma stands with her back to me, head bowed, one hand braced against the wall. Her shoulders shake with barely suppressed sobs.
Before I can second guess myself, I move to her side.
“Hey now, it's okay.” My voice comes out husky with emotion.
Unable to stop myself, I reach for her, turning her into my arms.
She crumples against my chest, tears wetting my shirt. I hold her close, stroking her hair, wishing I could absorb her pain.
We stand like that for long moments; her body wracked with sobs while I murmur soothing words into her ear.
Finally, she pulls back enough to meet my gaze. Her eyes glisten, her cheeks are flushed and streaked with mascara. Even tear-stained, she takes my breath away.
“I can't do it.” Her voice hitches with a sob. “I can't marry Julian.”
My thumb brushes away a tear. “Then don't. You deserve to be happy, Gemma. Truly happy.”
She shakes her head helplessly. “I don't have a choice. My father?—”
“There's always a choice.” My hands frame her face now, our bodies scant inches apart. “Walk away from all this. I'll take you somewhere safe, somewhere you can start over. We can build a new life together.”
Hope flickers in her eyes but fades just as quickly.
I take Gemma's hands, searching those beautiful blue eyes that haunt my dreams. “Come with me,” I plead. “Far away from here.”
She hesitates, uncertainty and longing warring on her face. “Dylan, I?—”
Gently, my thumbs brush over her knuckles. “I know you feel trapped but you have a choice, Gemma. Your life belongs to you, no one else.”
“Come with me,” I repeat softly. “We'll disappear somewhere no one knows us. I'll keep you safe. I promise.”
Hope flickers in her eyes, quickly followed by doubt. “What about my father? The company?”
I brush an errant strand of hair from her face. “The company is your father's responsibility, not yours. Take your skills and education and start over fresh, somewhere new.”
Gemma pulls back, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks.
“I can't.” Her voice cracks. “Hundreds of people will lose their jobs. Families will go hungry.” She shakes her head, looking utterly lost.
I clench my jaw, hating the helplessness gnawing at my gut. “Isn't there another way?”
She offers a sad little smile. “I'm not the priority. I never have been.”
