Emme went on staring. “You’re a terrible outside linebacker.”
I shook my head because, yeah, this wasn’t my finest hour and it came at a time when I needed all the halfway decent hours I could get. Bloodying my wife’s nose was no way to make up for my mistakes. “Believe me, I know it.”
I accepted a wad of napkins from someone, a bag of ice from someone else, a bottle of hand sanitizer from another. I squirted the liquid into my palm and scrubbed my hands before moving to Emme’s. She watched, her lips parted and her brow creased. I didn’t know which reaction to expect after tackling her at a dinner party, but I couldn’t help feeling like none of this was good.
“Stick to the backfield. Fewer casualties.”
“This wouldn’t have happened”—I motioned to the blood staining the front of her dress, and the shoulder strap I’d ripped at some point—“if you’d just worn the appropriate protective gear tonight. I’m sure we could’ve found a helmet to match this dress.”
“This isn’t the time for a fuck-around,” she seethed.
“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. Please let me fix it.”
She didn’t respond to that and it concerned me more than anything else. She lived to jab at me, to tease, to fuck around. I didn’t know what to do with her silence. All I could do was hook an arm around her waist and bring her to her feet.
Jamie and Shay pushed through the crowd to flank Emme. “Daddy Football is a rowdy beast,” Jamie said.
I glanced over my shoulder and found Grace there, her lips pressed into a tight line and her eyes worried. She stepped between us and worked on fixing Emme’s strap. “Are you okay, babe?”
Emme gave her friend a grimace. “I’m so sorry,” she said under her breath. “I can’t believe I screwed up another party for you.”
“You don’t get to apologize,” Grace replied. “I was the one who swore they were vegetarian and basically shoved one in your mouth.” She hooked a thumb in my direction. “But do you want me to take this guy out back and beat him up for you? I will—and I’ll delight in his torture—but keep in mind, he did save you a trip to the ER tonight.”
Shay curled an arm around Emme’s shoulders. “Let me take you back to my place,” she said softly. “We’ll soak your dress in some cold water and get you changed into something clean and, if you want, we can come back. Good as new.”
Before I could weigh the risks of Emme’s reaction, I said, “No. I’ll do it.”
Her cool gaze hardened. She tipped her chin up. “Fine.”
A ripple of icy awareness moved down the back of my neck. My stomach twisted. This was it. No more time on the scoreboard. Either I made this play happen—or I didn’t.
chapter thirty-six
Emme
Today’s Learning Objective:
Students will evaluate symbolism in works of art.
I heldthe ice to my face as I stared out the car window, though I didn’t see the gentle hills and glittering waters of Friendship, Rhode Island as we passed. It was a blur of blue and green, all melding together as the silence between us grew heavier by the minute.
My fingers throbbed from the ice, but it felt like my grip on that bag was the only thing holding me together right now. If I put it down, even for a minute, I’d end up walking in circles around the fact that Ryan came here for me tonight. This wasn’t the right time for us to hash out our issues and he should’ve known that, but he showed up—and he blitzed his way through the party to spare me an allergic reaction.
Unfortunately for me and the silence I was clinging to, it wasn’t a long ride back to the tulip farm. The old Victorian was lit with warm, welcoming light, and I directed him to park near the barn off to the side.
Though it was completely unnecessary, Ryan jogged around the front of his car to help me out. I was fine, but he scooped meoff the seat and kept his hands on my waist for a moment after setting me on the ground all the same.
He plucked a bag from the back seat and surveyed the fields. With a laugh, he said, “It really is a tulip farm.”
“Yeah, that’s what I told you,” I said, forgetting for a second that I was trying to maintain some distance here. That I’d told him where I stood, and even if I really appreciated the save tonight, I couldn’t do this with him.
His gaze settled on me and I saw a breath sagging his shoulders. “I know,” he said, and he sounded exhausted. I realized then that dark shadows circled his eyes. “But sometimes I don’t understand until I see it.” He frowned at the blood on my dress. It was pretty awful. “I spend so much time thinking about something that I can’t always make sense of it until it’s right there in front of me.”
I didn’t know what point he was trying to make, so I headed toward the Victorian. It was quiet and empty, and my heels snapped against the hardwood as I climbed the stairs. Ryan was right behind me, his hand on my hip as if I needed the support. I didn’t, but I couldn’t bring myself to brush him off either.
Once in my room, I went straight for the adjoining bathroom to wash away the blood and ruined makeup. Ryan followed, looming in the doorway as I twisted the taps. I shot him a scowl before leaning over the sink. He was quiet for several minutes, watching as I rinsed the dried blood from around my nose and then lathered a facial wash into my skin. There was a low throb across my cheeks from the artichoke-oyster incident. It wasn’t too bad. Better than the swelling and observation in the ER that came with my allergic reactions.
“I’m sorry,” he said when I patted my face dry.
