Emma’s words came roaring back to him, a description of himself that had echoed in his mind since she uttered it in that darkened hallway.
So concerned with how not to live that you forget how to live at all…
It was true. He had spent so much time trying to define his life that somewhere along the way he forgot to live it. Yes, Emma made mistakes, but at least she had the courage to make them in the first place. That was better than sitting on the sidelines so there were never any risks to begin with.
He should have taken the risk of telling her that he loved her. He had the chance there in the kitchen that morning after New Year’s Eve. Why hadn’t he? The excuses were dwindling every day. So, she might not feel the same way, but was that really a worse option than this? An exile away from everything he cared about just because of a what-if?
It suddenly felt ridiculous that she didn’t know. She deserved the truth, and he should take the risk of telling her. He needed to.
He had to go home.
Before he could think better of it, Knightley reached across the desk to his intercom.
“Yes?” Nicole answered.
“I need you to book me on the next flight from LAX to New York.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. “The next flight… today?”
Knightley was already on his feet, shrugging his suit jacket back on. He didn’t have anything with him but there was no way he’d have time to trek back out to Malibu to pack a bag. He needed to leave now. “Yes, today.”
“When should I book the return tr—”
“No return trip. This will be one-way.”
Knightley was already in the elevator when Nicole called his cell to tell him the next available flight was in one hour and forty-seven minutes. He was in the back seat of his car directing his driver to the airport by the time she sent him confirmation for his ticket.
The Los Angeles skyline was behind him as they flew down the 110. He fired off a text to Will explaining, not that he thought his friend would mind, then tried to check his email but couldn’t concentrate on anything but the time in the corner of the screen. So he shoved the phone back in his pocket. By the time his driver pulled them into the crawling traffic on the 105, he had nothing to do but stare out the window. His knee bobbed, his finger tapped the door, anxiety bleeding through every motion.
What will you say when you get there?He brushed the thought aside before it could take root. He couldn’t let any of the hows or whys or what-ifs gain purchase in his brain right now. That type of overthinking was exactly how he had talked himself out of risks before. George Knightley, the poster boy for analysis paralysis.
He pulled his phone from his jacket pocket again, ready to check his email for the fiftieth time, when it began to ring in his hand. His brother’s name was on the screen.
“What are you doing up so early?” Knightley answered.
Ben scoffed. “It’s not that early in New York.”
“It is for you.”
“Fair.” Then Ben cleared his throat. “So… how you doing? You doing okay?”
Knightley frowned. “What?”
“Margo wanted me to call and make sure you were all right. You know, with everything. She talked to Emma earlier. I guess she sounds okay, but you know Margo. She’s still worried about her. Anyway, I know you and Davina weren’t really a thing, but still. Lots of fish in the sea.”
“Ben, what the hell are you talking about?”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Have you talked to Davina?”
“Not since Emma’s birthday.”
“Oh shit,” Ben murmured to himself. “Um, okay. This is awkward.”
“Ben, get to the point.”
His brother let out a dry laugh. “Are you sitting down?”
CHAPTER 29
