Chapter 11
“One black, one with two creams and two sugars, please.”
Emily sat, silent, in Michael’s truck as he rattled off their drink orders into the drive-through intercom. She couldn’t stop visualizing him curled up in the corner of the room in the wee hours. They hadn’t spoken much that morning, both of them overwhelmed by what had passed the previous evening. She still felt a heaviness between her legs from sleeping with his hand there. Not unpleasant, but unusual.
She didn’t know if his hand had rested in the same place all night, but she’d awoken to a fluttering at her sex. Gentle fingers caressed her skin, insisting she wake up, and she’d been powerless to refuse.
The first thing she saw upon opening her eyes was Michael sliding down her body, grinning.
“Rise and shine, Dimples.”
He got comfortable between her legs and replaced his roving fingers with his mouth.
When Emily came, she’d had to blink back tears. Not just because he felt so good but because her heart cried for him.
What if she couldn’t help him? He’d already hinted at how much he cared about her and she was conscious of not having replied quite as clearly. What if she disappointed him? What if she couldn’t say the words he hoped to hear and her silence caused him more suffering? Considering he was already experiencing troubling symptoms related to the shooting, she was concerned about hurting him.
He’d sensed her reticence at breakfast and hadn’t initiated much conversation. Instead, they’d gotten ready for another day of renovations and filming at the house.
Mere weeks ago, her life had been headed in a completely different direction. It wasn’t long ago he had been an unattainable TV celebrity and an individual of note in the community. Now, he was just her Michael. Wounded and worn and beautiful.
In some ways, it was easy to be with him. When he was happy, he filled her with hope and delight. But when she glimpsed his demons, she worried she’d never be able to banish them.
He might need to dispel them on his own.
They drove in silence toward Beatrice Street, his hand straying over to clutch hers periodically. “You look beautiful today.”
“Liar. I look like a mess.” At least they’d made a point of stopping by her place that morning so she could change into something other than walk of shame clothes. Too bad she couldn’t switch out her tired face for one that looked refreshed.
“You always look beautiful to me.” He stared out the windshield, his jaw tight. “I was a wreck last night. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“You didn’t.”Now who’s the liar?
“Em, I said some heavy stuff. I’m not trying to jump the gun. I just want to you know how much I care.”
“It’s okay, Michael. Just understand it’s a bit early for me.”
“I do understand.”
Maybe he did, but he still remained quiet during the rest of the drive.
As they turned from College onto her grandmother’s street, Emily noticed a group of people from the crew standing in front of the house, mulling around the front window. “So much for arriving together on the down low.”
Michael said nothing, peering at the assembled crowd. He parked his truck in front of the house and everyone turned to look at them as they got out of the vehicle. “What’s going on?” he asked as they approached.
Nick greeted them with a nod. “You’re not going to be happy.”
“Why not?”
Emily didn’t notice the damage until a few of the crew members shifted in their places on the lawn. Only then was her eye drawn toward the jagged glass. The front picture window had been smashed. She walked toward the window, stunned. Emily had seen enough episodes ofHandymento understand it wasn’t a case of faulty windows. She’d also seen enough episodes ofLaw and Orderto understand someone had done this with intent. The house had been targeted. As she drew closer, she saw the shards of glass inside the front room, a clear indication the missile had come from the outside. Someone with a grudge had stood before the house she loved and had vandalized it.
Her heart bottomed out. She couldn’t have felt worse if someone had set a light to all her grandmother’s old photos.
“Fuck.” Michael ran his hand through his hair.
“There’s more,” said Nick, pulling the two of them aside. “We’ve kept the crew from entering the house, but Eli and Lacey and I went in when we first got here. Whoever did this threw a brick at the window. The brick was wrapped in paper. Someone wrote the word ‘whore’ on it.” He looked up under his lashes at Emily. “I’m sorry.”
Shock gave way to a sense of violation as Emily considered the implications of the foul word. “I want to see it.”
