“Your comment to Mrs. Pawloski.”
She rolled her eyes, swallowing back the shame. “It’s fine. I doubt she knew what I was talking about.”
“Are you serious? She’s been sitting next to me for the past twenty minutes and hasn’t talked about anything else. How she’s such an embarrassment, how lucky she is that you invited her at all.”
“That’s ridiculous! You know that’s ridiculous. Of course she’s invited, she’s invited every year! She’s like family at this point! But just because she’s like family doesn’t mean we can’t acknowledge that she makes you want to scream half the time.”
“You’re right,” he murmured, taking a step closer to her so she had to take one back, her shoulders hitting the wall. “And if she was still having lunch every day at the Carlyle or hosting fundraisers at her home every weekend, I would probably let it go.”
Emma scoffed. His brow hardened.
“But she’s not, Emma. She’s lost almost everything. You get that, right? She has no money. Her husband died and left her with more debt than she’ll ever be able to pay off. She’s lived off charity for years. Even after breaking up that house of hers into apartments, she’ll still have to sell it at some point. She has nothing, Emma. Nothing but you and me and the people that have been her family for years.”
Emma lifted her chin, thankful for the darkness of the hall and how it hid the tears now welling in the corners of her eyes.
“Do you enjoy this or something?” she hissed. “Zeroing in on every mistake I make and calling it out just to make me feel bad?”
His eyes widened. “Makeyoufeel bad? Jesus, Emma. Not everything is about you.”
She wanted to tell him that she was aware, that this whole party—planned and executed by Margo—was a perfect reminder of that. But she didn’t trust her tears to stay at bay if she admitted that out loud, so she just crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him.
He shook his head. “Every time I think you’ve stopped making yourself the center of the world, you go and do something that completely destroys any hope I have that…”
He tripped over his words, as if he caught himself before saying something else.
“Hope of what?” she asked, anger now mixing with her shame. “That I’ll become anadultlike you? So concerned with how not to live that you forget how to live at all?”
His eyes narrowed on her. “Excuse me?”
“You want me to be an adult, but only in the wayyoudefine it! And your definition has so much fucking baggage that I don’t know if it’s possible to ever fit in there!”
He leaned closer, his face only inches from her own. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“You’re not your dad! But when you try to police how exactly someone lives up to your expectations, you sure as hell sound like him.”
The silence that followed was deafening. She could only hear their breathing, fast and heavy and intermingling in the space between them. Knightley didn’t move, just stared down at her,anger and frustration and something else clouding his expression, something so dark and raw it was impossible to translate.
“George?” Davina’s voice called down the hall. “Ready to go?”
He leaned back abruptly, standing straight and taking in a deep breath. “Yes. Ready.”
He glanced back down at Emma. All the anger was gone now. His expression was flat, his eyes almost sad. And then he turned away toward Davina and the exit.
CHAPTER 25
“Well, that was nice,” Davina said as their car pulled away from the restaurant. She was smiling but her tone suggested the opposite, as if revealing a long-withheld relief.
Knightley didn’t blame her. The entire meal had been a disaster. The Emma and Montgomery show had stolen everyone’s attention, which was surely the point. And as much as he tried, Knightley had fallen for it too, neglecting Davina most of the meal to steal glances at their shared smiles, ignoring the conversations around him to listen to their whispered flirting. Of course, Davina hadn’t seemed to mind. She was distracted by the show as well, but seemingly not as entertained as everyone else.
It had only derailed once, by Emma’s scathing comment to Mrs. Pawloski.
Well then, I’m glad we reserved an open bar.
He had recognized Emma’s regret the moment the words left her lips. But she hadn’t taken it back. She hadn’t even apologized. And as Mrs. Pawloski crumbled into a mess of self-doubt beside him, everyone at the table moved on, including Emma. Whatshould have been a capital offense was swept under the rug, as if it had never happened at all.
He let out a frustrated sigh just thinking about it, leaning back into the car’s leather seat and watching the trees of Central Park give way to the high-rises of Midtown.
“So, Emma and Montgomery. What’s going on there?” Davina asked, pulling him from his thoughts.
