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“Do you mind if I unpack?” She pointed to a wicker basket beside her feet, opening it before he had a chance to say anything. “I can’t wait to see what we have here.”
The moment to speak up had gone, and he gestured for her to go ahead, his gaze falling to the already laid out china plates, crystal glasses, and stainless-steel cutlery.
Despite his simple requests, Aggie had gone above and beyond, especially since she’d skipped the plastic picnicware and used real crockery instead. Maybe he’d continue to grin and bear her nose tweaking. She only ever meant well, and he definitely owed her big time for today’s favor.
He reached across the table and poured two glasses of red wine, occasionally glancing at the black ironwork candelabra and vase full of field flowers—both small touches he might not have thought of himself.
Pretty soon, Emilia had pulled all the items from the basket: an assortment of fruits, cheeses, dips, and salads. They sat and sipped on wine, making idle chatter about his work and the interesting characters Emilia had met so far in town.
Before long, a heavy quiet fell over the table, and he couldn’t help but notice the way she twisted one of the white, cloth napkins around her index finger.
He lowered his fork. “Is something wrong?”
She jolted, dropping the cloth to the table as though completely unaware of her fidgeting.
“Oh.” She jerked her gaze away to some point in the field. “I just got a bit lost in thought, that’s all.”
Her brows pressed together, dipping at the center, hinting maybe that “thought” still stuck around.
He leaned back, making it clear she had his full attention. “Want to talk about it?”
“It’s just.” She frowned down at the table, focus bouncing from one item to the next, like maybe the bowl of salad or the vase played an instrumental part in forming her next words. “I always wondered what happened to you. Why you chose to come back to Harlow of all places. Why you never once tried to find me…”
Now it was his turn to peer down at his plate, his mood dragged beneath a slew of old memories of being helpless and lost. “I had no other choice. Neither of us would have been safe if I’d stayed in LA. Same goes for if I’d tried to contact you. So when Frank offered me a place to live after your father and Anthony forced me out, I took him up on the offer.”
She let out a small gasp, and when he peered up, her eyes were wide and her posture poker straight. “My dad and Anthony forced you out?”
Dull strain pulled at his cheekbones, and he inspected her every move, his body heat rising. “You mean, you didn’t know?”
She shook her head furiously, her fingers coming to her lips in a slow and trembling movement. “No. What are you saying? What did they do?”
“I assumed—” He cleared his throat, pulling himself taller, this date getting a hell of a lot darker than he’d ever intended. Though now this line of conversation had arrived, there didn’t seem much point in trying to avoid it. “That night, after you came to my house wanting to run away, and my parents found me in the driveway. They called the police and reported Anthony for property damage and assault, but when he got hauled in, your father bailed him out.”
“My father?” Her face went sheet white, quite a feat what with her soft sienna skin tone. Her fingertips no longer hovered over her lips, her entire hand now clapped over her mouth. “Why? Why would he do that? Why would he get involved?”
He gave a barking laugh. God, they’d done a beautiful job of keeping this woman naive. “Because Anthony convinced your dad I’d been in the process of kidnapping you. He told everyone, including the police, he’d been the one to stop me.”
“But…” Her entire body began to shake, and her gaze darted about, as though the alternate truth she searched for might be anywhere but sitting directly in front of her.
“Emilia, please don’t pass out on me in this field.”
She held up a hand, a sign she could handle the news, though her heaving shoulders filled him with doubt. “I just don’t know how… How could he? How could anyone believe Anthony’s story?”
Blaine reached across the table for her hand and hoped the contact would help her settle some. “All I know is, once the legal dust settled, I had orders from your dad to leave the city. In return, he wouldn’t press charges, and you and I would go on with our lives as if we’d never met. I wanted to contact you, believe me, I did. But I was afraid of what might happen to you if anyone found out.”
She bit her lip, nodding like she understood, and yet the hurried movement said the truth hurt her all the same. “I…” She turned her hand, so her fingers grasped his. “I tried to find you. I even spoke to your parents not long after that night, but they wouldn’t say much. I figured you’d all decided I was bad news, which I guess no matter how you spin it, I am.”
“Emilia, we’re not teenagers anymore.” He gave a weak smile, his thumb caressing her smooth knuckles. “And I know you tried, but my parents didn’t tell me until a couple of years ago. They lied out of fear your dad or Anthony might retaliate. By the time I found out, I was seeing Sarah, and I figured you’d probably moved on too. I didn’t want to bother you.”
She squeezed her eyes shut and sucked in a shaky breath. “You didn’t have to leave LA alone, if—”
“No, Emilia. I did.” He pulled his hand back and sent forth a stern glower, mostly because he didn’t want to play the what-if game. A game no one at this table could win. “Even if I’d known you’d contacted me, my parents had to stay in LA for work, and my sister needed to finish her last years of high school. I couldn’t put them at risk by staying, as much as I couldn’t risk you getting hurt if we got caught trying to leave again. Anthony and your father already made it clear what they were capable of.”
She slumped back, her fingers slipping from the table. He hated the deflated roll of her shoulders, the way her gaze no longer met his; while the truth hurt, not facing it hurt even more. Denying what had happened. Pretending the past didn’t bother him. Those things had held him captive for far too long. Maybe denial had done the same to her too.
He blew out a hard breath, feeling like a total bastard for shooting down her hope. The truth of what her own family had done maybe spelling the end to this date. “Look, we both got a raw deal out of this. Anthony never paid for his crime, and your father got to keep you under his control. Seems everyone benefited from breaking us up, except us. So, it’s not your job to carry around the guilt over what Anthony and your dad did, got it?”
“I feel angry more than guilty.” Her chin remained pointed down, but she peered up at him through long, thick lashes, those deep brown eyes drawing him in. “I thought there was something wrong with me.” Her voice fell to little more than a whisper. “Like you’d moved on, and I was the one left behind.”
