I let out an unattractive huff. “You’re not just anyone. You’re the yacht sex guy who deserted me in a foreign country without saying good-bye.”
“Yacht sex guy?” Alexander asks with a puzzled look. He would have no idea if that term is a compliment or a criticism. I never told him how we saw him having sex with another woman the day before we met him. It’s actually something I’ve been avoiding.
“It’s not a good thing. I have something I need to ask you, and I want you to be honest.”
Alexander crosses his arms over his broad bronzed skin, ready for the question.
“The day before I met you, Leah and I saw you with a woman on your boat. We didn’t know it was you at the time. Leah had these, crazy binoculars and . . . anyway, that doesn’t matter. She recognized you when she met you. Not as Alexander Asher but as the guy on the boat.
“When she found out you were lying to me about who you were, she painted this picture of you in her head as this awful person. A womanizer. Later I did too. She said she’s seen you in articles since with other women and, well, she just doesn’t like you.” When the last words are out of my mouth, my shoulders are so tense they’ve risen up to my chin. We’ve come so far, I don’t want to rehash the past and make him feel awful but he deserves to know why Leah doesn’t want him in Cedar Ridge this weekend.
Alexander’s mouth is set in a grim line yet he’s looking straight at me, piercing me with a look of sheer determination. “She’s right. I was a womanizer.Wasbeing the operative word. I used women and they used me right back.”
I let down my shoulders. You have to give credit to a man who can admit his mistakes. “Malory was the woman I saw you with on the boat, wasn’t she?”
Alexander lowers his head and grunts. “Yes.” He looks back up and his pupils dilate. I know it’s because he can see mine are wide as well. “Emma.” His voice is thick and desperate with meaning. “I haven’t been with anyone since I met you. Even when we were apart.”
I open my mouth to say something but he cuts me off.
“Going to a party and being photographed with someone doesn’t mean we were together. You ruined me in Italy. I haven’t been able to think of anyone else. I was just too stubborn to go after you. Then fate brought you to me, and that’s when I knew for sure. Anything that happened before us is obsolete. I need you to believe me.”
Fate is a tricky bitch. What would life be like if I’d never come to New York? If I decided to stay close to my parents and let them dote on me? I might have never seen him again.
If I want to get real morbid I could think that if Parker never dumped me, Luke would still be alive, and Leah wouldn’t have called off her wedding, and I never would have met Alexander at all.
I can’t go there. The reality is I did meet him, and here we are trying to move forward, but constantly being pulled back.
“I believe you. I do. This weekend is just not the time to bring you home. My family . . . they worry. They have questions and they hover and they—”
“You don’t think they’ll approve of me?” Alexander pushes the blanket away from him and rises. His glorious body is naked and hard with anger.
“That’s not what I mean—”
“You’re in or you’re out, Emma. Why won’t you fight for me?”
I sit up on the couch. “You are asking me to choose between you and my family. I can’t do that. Not after all that’s happened. I want you with me. I want you on my arm but not at the expense of hurting my sister. She knows how I feel about you but she has no idea what your intentions are. All she knows is what she’s seen so far and she doesn’t exactly trust my judgment these days.”
Alexander walks back to the bedroom and starts pulling pants up his legs. I grab the blanket and wrap it around my naked body, following him toward the room.
“Where are you going?”
“I need to think,” he says, his arms sliding into a long-sleeved crew-neck shirt.
He needs to think?
Thinking is bad. Thinking means doubts and thinking leads to questioning your judgment.
“Can’t you think here?” My voice cracks. I breathe steadily to will myself not to get emotional.
Alexander is sliding on his loafers and running a hand through his hair. “No. I think I’ll spend the night uptown. Get used to not seeing you for a few days.”
This time it’s my turn to clench my jaw and go grim and broody.
“You’re running. Figures. It’s what you do best.” My words are cold and callous. I turn around and walk back to the living room and take a seat in the chesterfield, pulling the blanket tightly around me. I wince at the sting in my hand that grows the tighter I pull.
The room is still dark except for the damn tree. It looks so festive yet the air is crinkling with anything but holly and joy. Instead I feel anger and resentment.
I should have known our bubble of bliss would be short-lived.
