Emily sighed as she padded into the kitchen for a couple of glasses. How could her own brother think she would cave?
Maybe because her recent behavior illustrated a feeblemindedness where Trent was concerned.
No caving. He’d gone too far. She needed to draw a line.
There might have been a time when Trent looked at her with adoring eyes but she’d glimpsed shadows in those eyes for some time now. She had too much self-respect to saddle herself to a man who only wanted her halfway. Alcohol and self-pity would never change that.
Carrying the glasses and one of the wine bottles, she sat next to Chris. He took them and set them on the table in front of them.
“Now, on the off chance Trent calls tonight, I will pick up the phone. It will give me a chance to tell the cocksucker to—”
“Okay, okay. No need to elaborate.”
Chris hugged her. “I’m proud of you.”
“Why? For being a dope for two years?”
“You weren’t a dope. You were duped. There’s a difference. I’d rather see you lose two years to him than a lifetime.” He patted her hand and gave her the side eye. “If you want to have an ugly cry, feel free. I promise not to take pictures, not too many anyway.”
“Is it wrong I don’t feel like crying?”
“What do you feel like?”
“I don’t know.” Emily tried to analyze the garbled messages her stomach was sending her, but the various twinges and groans just felt like a case of late-night munchies.
She’d said good-bye to Trent. Twenty-four months ago, he’d been the man of her dreams. Tall and handsome, with a promising job in the food industry, he’d swept her off her feet with his compliments and promises.
Empty, every last one of them.
She glanced at her bare ring finger. The choice of ring ought to have been a red flag, but she’d ignored it too. When the time to purchase a ring had come, Trent had insisted on getting her something fussy. Emily had begged him to purchase a more modest piece of jewelry. She hated showy jewels and felt nervous wearing them. He’d ignored her wishes and had bought her a honking solitaire. When she’d thrown it at him, despite how angry she’d been, she’d felt a weight fall from her shoulders.
At least Trent would make some good money in selling it.
And now? He was gone.
Emily should have still been shocked, but she wasn’t. She should have been angry, but couldn’t seem to muster up any more annoyance. She wasn’t even sure she was sad, other than being sad for him. Only one emotion filled her being and it made her chest expand, as if she’d just taken a big breath of fresh air.
Relief.
Trent was gone.
Chris, already into the wine, brandished the remote. “Let’s bury our sorrows in film. What are we in the mood for? Chick flick? Action movie? Some light porn?”
“You’re disgusting.” She grabbed his hand and snuggled against him. “And I love you.”
“Love you too, sis. Oh, and I should warn you. If I see Trent again, I will fuck him up.” He flicked through the channels until he found a BBC period drama, the kind Emily loved. “Here. You like this one, right?”
Colin Firth? Check. Waistcoats? Check. Genteel manners and heaving bosoms? Check. “Bingo.”
“You know what would makePride and Sensibilityeven better?”
“It’sPride and Prejudice, and what could possibly make it better?”
Chris pointed out a few of the Regency ladies on the screen. “A lesbian threesome.”
Emily shook her head and elbowed him in the ribs.
