Emma laughed again. She might not have fallen for him, but she couldn’t deny that she was glad he was here today. “You’re going to make some woman very happy one day, Montgomery Knox.”
He winked at her. “Oh, I plan on making many women very happy, Emma Woodhouse.”
She smiled.
“Oh my God!” Mrs. Pawloski exclaimed, waving erratically at Emma and Montgomery. “You two are just so adorable! Margo, where have you been hiding him?”
Margo shrugged, even as a smug grin turned up the corners of her mouth. Knightley smiled too, a polite, sterile smile. At least Davina didn’t try to pretend; she looked embarrassed. Perhaps even a little annoyed. And suddenly that stone was back in Emma’s shoe, refusing to budge.
A waiter arrived at the table with another bottle of champagne, and Mrs. Pawloski let out a shrill sound of delight.
“I adore champagne! Just adore it!” she announced again.
“I still think we would have been fine with sparkling water,” Mr. Woodhouse murmured, eyeing Margo.
“No, Dad, you celebrate with champagne,” she said. “After all, we have a lot to celebrate. Right, Emma?”
She looked to Emma and Montgomery then, a wistful expression on her face.
Emma suddenly realized she wanted to leave. In fact, at that moment, as all eyes turned to her, she couldn’t figure out why she was there at all. It felt like she had been playing a part for so long now but didn’t have the energy to maintain it. The facade was crumbling, and the strength required to repair it was too herculean. Or maybe she simply didn’t want to fix it at all.
“Besides,” Margo continued. “If I can’t drink champagne right now, then I reserve the right to force it on everyone else.”
“Oh, no need to force it on me!” Mrs. Pawloski said, laughing. “I think I would drink it with every meal if I could!”
Emma tried to smile, already opening her mouth to change the subject, but Mrs. Pawloski squealed again.
“My Burt used to say that he would buy me a champagne vineyard because I loved it so much! Can you imagine that? Me, on a vineyard? But he was adamant! He didn’t even like the stuff, he just wanted me to be happy. And what can I say, champagne makes me happy! I only wish I had a higher tolerance. After just a couple of glasses I get drowsy and can barely string two words together!”
Emma could not resist. “Well then, I’m glad we reserved an open bar.”
Even before the words escaped her mouth, she regretted them. The table fell silent for a long, painful moment as people darted their eyes away and their smiles faltered.
Mrs. Pawloski finally laughed, but it slowly faded to an odd, disjointed giggle as Emma’s words seemed to register. “Yes, yes, of course. Exactly.”
There was stiff laughter around the table until it was replaced by the hum of conversation again. But Emma still watched Mrs. Pawloski, at the embarrassment that rouged her cheeks and how she didn’t touch her drink again. She was talking to Knightley now, and although there was still a smile on her face, Emma could tell by his look of concern that there was nothing light or trivial about their conversation.
The table was finally cleared, and people slowly began to stand and say their goodbyes. Nadine promised to stop by the house after her class on Tuesday, and Montgomery said he would text from the party downtown so Emma could meet him later. She already knew she would not be going.
Emma maintained her practiced smile through all of it until she found a moment to disappear down the hallway across the dining room to the restroom.
The mirror was waiting there for her as she closed the door and locked it. She stared at her reflection, her smile fading so her red lips made a harsh straight line across her face. Had she really said that to Mrs. Pawloski? Had those words really left her mouth? She had similar thoughts about the woman a thousand times a day, but the idea that any of them would escape into the ether made her cringe. Yet today it happened. Her frustration and anger had caused the worst to bubble up, and now there was no taking them back.
But maybe it wasn’t so bad. No one else had said anything, right? The conversation had continued as normal, and yes, Mrs. Pawloski had seemed hurt, but she would probably forget it by the next Sunday dinner anyway.
It was fine. Everything was fine.
Perhaps if she repeated it to herself enough times she would start to believe it.
With that thought, Emma opened the door and marched directly into Knightley’s back.
Her brow furrowed as he turned. “What are you doing creeping around down here? Davina isn’t even in…”
The words dissolved on her tongue when she caught his expression, the hard planes of his face locked in anger.
“What were you thinking?” he growled, his voice low and so deep she felt it reverberate through her chest.
“Excuse me?”
