But hang on, it wasn’t like she faired any better! Not when she was marrying a man like him. And if we were being honest, wasn’t it her that hadseducedme? I could feel the anger bubbling in my belly as I tried to focus on my stepfather’s continued prattle.
“Yes, I believe his father is very happy,” he was saying, once more wrapped up in his own thoughts and self-congratulation. “The night’s events must have really got him hooked, hence his eagerness to get together so soon. That being said” — he sent Emma a look — “some of us could have performed a little better.”
Emma gave a sharp intake of breath. And I realized with horror that he was referring to her stamina, or his perceived lack thereof.
What a prick!
I grabbed the bottle and poured myself some wine, desperate to pretend I was unaware of the meaning behind his words and in dire need of the alcohol to douse the anger simmering too close to the surface. The awkward silence that descended would have had any normal person on edge. Dad, however, was utterly oblivious. Or if he was aware, he just didn’t care. Yes,didn’t care, that was much more likely.
A gentle rap on the door filled the room and both Emma and I started.
“Lord, you’re both jumpy tonight,” he remarked derisively, his attention turning to the doorway. “Come!”
Tom, one of Dad’s burly “thugs”, as I nicknamed them, entered. He was broad-shouldered and six foot four, at least; a terrifying presence of a man, but he appeared immediately humble as he nodded his respect and approached.
Ducking his head, he spoke discretely in my stepfather’s ear, his voice low enough to prevent us overhearing what was being said. With a growing sense of unease, I watched as Dad’s eyes flitted between us, his expression unreadable.
Seconds ticked by and yet it felt like minutes. Eventually, he straightened and my stepfather pushed his seat back, to rise with him.
“If you’ll excuse me, there is something I need to tend to,” he said, tossing his napkin to the table.
“But you’re not finished.”
I could hear the elevation to Emma’s tone, could sense her rising panic like my own.
“I can cope without the extra baggage” — he reached out to take hold of Emma’s chin, tilting her face up to him and turning it appraisingly side to side as though he were evaluating a piece of livestock — “and let’s be honest dear, you should probably stop eating soon too. From what I hear, your body fat percentage is teetering into the unacceptable.”
Emma’s composure blew me away; she didn’t even flinch at his words. She simply lowered her gaze and nodded into his hold, her hands placing her cutlery together on her plate.
“Good girl,” he said, releasing her chin and brushing his thumb across her lips, the only sign of affection in his otherwise twisted farewell before he walked away.
I stared after his vacating form in amazement. How could he continue to surprise me with his malice? Was I really so naive as to think him redeemable on any level these days? And what ofthe woman in front of me? Who was she really? Underneath it all? Could she really possess a good streak if she was happy to be married tothat?
But, frankly, who was I to judge? It wasn’t like I had been running for the hills or like I was an innocent bystander in recent events.
My gaze succumbed to the magnetic pull of the womanly perfection before me and I drank her in anew. Each time our eyes connected, my body reacted, its inability to be doused by the risk of discovery was unsettling and downright terrifying in itself. There was so much I wanted to say to her, I just didn’t know where to begin. I wanted to understand her, get to the bottom of why she was here, why she would be with a man like him, why she would be interested in me, of all people? I wanted to explain my own actions, what had happened with Daniel, why it had happened. It was all there, racing away in my mind and I started to speak. “Emma—”
She raised her palm to silence me, tears filling her eyes and crushing me.
“If you’ll excuse me, Abi, I am quite tired...”
“P-p-please,” I tried, my voice breaking. “We should talk.”
“I think we have done enough today,” she said, pushing herself up from the table and turning to leave.
“Please, Emma...” I could hear the desperation in my voice, but I just didn’t get it. How come she could be so composed withhimand the complete opposite with me, surely she at least owed me some of her time. “We really need to talk, to understand one...”
She looked back at me over her shoulder, her pained expression bringing an end to my words. “Not tonight,” she bit out and then she turned and walked away.
I wasn’t even worthy of a backward glance.
I felt sick and helpless. In forty-eight hours, my life as I knew it had been tipped on its head and I could do nothing to correct it, nothing to get it back to the way it was before ... before I had met her...
And would I really want to? Hadn’t I just been going through the motions of life before in blissful ignorance: doing my stepfather’s bidding, fooling around with the odd guy, finding solace with a therapist whose intentions were now questionable at best.
No, I absolutely would not want to go back.
But where did that leave me? And what would I do if Dad were to find out?What if he already had?
