Finaly My Heart's Desire (Meant for Me Book 2) (2 page)

Chapter 2

I stared at myself in the mirror, thanking God it was winter and I had an excuse to wear a long sleeve shirt. It had been four days since Robin left bruises on my arms, and the greenish-purple splotches still remained. He had told me one other time that I bruise easily, but I thought the problem was that he really didn't know his own strength sometimes. It was times like this, when I regarded myself in the mirror with marks he left on me, that I wondered if I was making a mistake by being with him.

It seemed as if his outbursts had gotten a little more frequent lately, and sometimes that scared me. But he had never truly injured me, and he always felt terrible for letting his temper get the best of him. I'd like to say his money didn't have anything to do with me putting up with this behavior, but maybe it did. His apologies always came with an extremely elaborate gift to remind me of our future together, which would certainly be free from financial struggle.

I was contemplating all of this as I put on my make up for the get-together with Carly and the other bridesmaids. I imagined myself being the one who was getting married and pictured my future with Robin. It was hard to see myself without him.

I thought about all the material things in my life he had provided. He was responsible for at least half of my wardrobe, all of my jewelry, and even my car. My parents were helping me with rent and college tuition, but Robin paid for just about everything else, which was why I didn't have to work while I was going to school. He seemed happy to do it, and I had always been content to let him, but episodes like the one last Monday night made me have doubts.

I honestly didn't know how I could make it without him, though. He provided so much, and I just assumed we would get married and he would continue to do so for the rest of our lives. I didn't set out to be dependent on a man, but when you end up with someone who has billions and is willing to throw money at you, it just sort of happens that way.

I stared at my own reflection in the mirror and told myself to go put on a sweater so I could try to forget about these bruises and the doubts they brought to mind. My long, dark hair had been in a ponytail while I put on my make up, but I pulled it loose and bent at the waist to run my fingers through it while hanging upside down. I stood again, and regarded myself, feeling satisfied that my long hair now hung over my shoulders, distracting me from my arms. I gave myself a quick smile in the mirror before heading to my bedroom where I grabbed a sweater from the foot of the bed and pulled it over my head.

I was supposed to meet everyone else at my parents' house, so I headed over there even though I was thirty minutes early. I hadn't seen them all week, and I didn't have anything else going on, so going over there was a better option than sitting around in my quiet apartment.

No one was in the living room when I arrived, so I went straight to the kitchen where I found my mother, who was in her usual spot, stirring a pot on the stove.

"It smells good," I said. She turned to me with a huge smile. "Oh, hey baby. I thought you were your dad coming in."

"Where is dad?" I asked, looking around.

She put down her spoon and came over to hug me. "Oh my goodness!" she exclaimed, slack-jawed. She stared at my neck with wide eyes before reaching out to touch my new necklace. "This is so beautiful!" She inspected it so closely that I turned my shoulders from side to side to let her get a better view. "It's from Robin, I assume," she said, reaching out to pick it up.

"Yes ma'am," I said.

"It's magnificent, and it looks beautiful with this sweater." She set it back on my chest and regarded me curiously. "Was that a
just because
gift?" she asked.

I shrugged. "I guess so. Where are dad and Thomas?"

"I'm making black bean soup and Thomas wanted sour cream to go with it. Your dad brought him to the store to get some. They should be back any second."

My parents' kitchen had an island lined with barstools, and mom gestured for me to sit down. I did as she said, and she took the barstool next to mine regarding me with a smile as if she was excited to catch up.

"How do you think you did on your finals?"

"Fine, I think. My most difficult one was Wednesday, and I already got my grade back. I did well on that one, so I'm pretty confident with the ones I had yesterday and today."

"Are you all done now?"

"Yes ma'am, my last one was today."

My hands were resting on the bar and she reached out and gave them a loving pat. "I bet that feels good. You'll have a nice little break until after the first of the year."

"I was thinking about getting a job," I said.

She regarded me with obvious surprise in her expression. "Really?"

I shrugged. "I know I don't have to, but I thought it might be fun to work at a bookstore or something."

"Is everything okay with you and Robin?" she asked.

"Of course!" I answered, maybe a little too quickly.

She started to ask me something, but just then we heard the door open. "We have sour cream!" I heard my brother yell. Thomas had Down Syndrome, and the familiar excitement in his voice over something as insignificant as sour cream, put a smile on my face. Thomas was such a sweet spirit that he could draw a smile from me no matter my mood. "And my sister, Emily's, car is here!" he added.

"I'm in the kitchen, Thomas," I yelled.

"Emilyyyy!" he exclaimed rounding the corner and catching sight of me for the first time. He always lifted his arms in a victorious pose when he got excited, and he crossed the kitchen to hug me with his arms straight up in the air with the small grocery bag, which I assumed contained sour cream, dangling from his hand.

"Thomasss!" I returned, standing to hug him. The sour cream was still in his hand, and it pressed against my back as he squeezed me tightly. Thomas was strong, and my arms were still tender. I did my best not to grimace at his embrace.

My dad was watching the whole exchange and I smiled at him even though it hurt. "Hey baby," he said.

"Hey Dad."

"My brother's marrying Carly and the girls are having a party tonight," Thomas said. He made no move to hand mom the sour cream, so she walked over and took it from him.

"I'm one of those girls, remember?"

"You're going to Carly's party?" he asked.

"Of course she is," Mom said, chiming in. "She's one of Carly's bridesmaids."

That earned one of Thomas's satisfied smiles. "Mom made black bean soup and we have sour cream."

"It smells really good, but I think I'm eating dinner with Carly."

Thomas was staring at me as if contemplating what he thought about my dinner plans when Mom changed the subject. "Emily's done with her finals," she announced.

"That's great, honey," my dad said, reaching out to give me a hug. "How do you think you did?"

"I did well. I was telling mom that I already found out my grade on my most difficult one, and it was good."

"That's my girl," Dad said, patting me on the back. After he did that, he slid his hand over to my shoulder and gave me a loving squeeze. He meant it as a sweet gesture, but it hurt yet again, and it was with great effort that I did not shy away from his touch.

Within a few minutes, my brother Micah's soon-to-be wife Carly came in. Regardless of how I felt about my brother's decision to marry so quickly, I could tell she really loved him, and it made me happy seeing that.

We sat around the kitchen talking for a few minutes before Carly asked if I was ready to go. I had assumed everyone was meeting us there, but she said the others would be waiting for us at the restaurant. She told me on the way that the plan for the evening was to have dinner and then do a little pottery painting.

I'd met the girls before. They were easy going, and I knew we'd have a good time together. There were only three bridesmaids, two girls she'd gone to college with, and me. Because they planned the wedding quickly, it was small and void of the usual pomp and circumstance. Rather than special ordering our bridesmaids dresses, we all met at a department store and bought them straight off the rack. I had been a bridesmaid two other times, and the dresses we were wearing for Carly's wedding were every bit as lovely as the special-order ones I'd worn before.

Carly and I talked about the wedding the whole way to the restaurant. The wedding and reception were both being held at the church my parents had been attending for years. My brother and Carly went there now, so it was the obvious choice. The main sanctuary was gigantic, so they were using a couple of the smaller rooms for both the service and the reception because they only expected about a hundred guests. We talked about flowers, and food, and dresses, and all the other things discussed when a wedding is about to take place. That same conversation continued after we met up with her friends for dinner.

I had a lot in common with Carly's friend Trish. She was a beautiful girl with red hair and freckles and a fun personality to match. She was a couple of years older than me, but she had graduated from the same college with a degree in English Lit, exactly what I was studying. We swapped stories about professors and things about the program we liked and didn't like. Carly's friend, Annie, was nice as well. I found myself having a lot of fun with all three of them. We laughed and made easy conversation all through dinner and into pottery painting.

"Tell me about your boyfriend," Annie said while we were busy working on our pottery projects.

I glanced up to find that she was directing her question to Trish. Trish shrugged. "He's a good guy."

"Is it serious?" Annie asked.

Trish shook her head. "I like him, but we haven't been dating all that long." She let out a little laugh. "Longer than Carly and Micah, though."

"Ha ha, very funny," Carly said, with a
you better knock it off
expression that made Trish laugh.

"I'm just messing with you," Trish said. She turned to Annie. "I like him and everything, but we're not making wedding plans."

"What's his name?" Annie asked.

"Shane."

I wasn't sure why I chose to say what I said next—maybe I wanted to distract them from picking on Carly. But either way, I felt compelled to share a random piece of information at the mention of the name Shane.

"I had a crush on a guy named Shane for the majority of my adolescence," I said.

All three of them looked at me. "Seriously?" Carly asked.

"Yeah. It was at least all of middle school and probably into high school—from like 11 to 14, or longer."

"What happened?" she asked.

"He was the center of my universe for the longest time, and one day, I professed my love only to realize he had no idea who I was."

I recounted the whole thing with a huge, good-natured smile even though I remembered how devastated the 14-year-old me had been.

"Aww, poor thing," Carly said.

"I can't imagine anyone turning you down," Annie said sweetly.

"Me neither, you're so gorgeous," Trish added.

I smiled. "You guys are sweet, but he was older than me, and I probably looked a lot different back then. Anyway, I just remember him every time I hear the name Shane."

"What was his last name?" Trish asked.

"I don't even remember," I said, just in case by some crazy coincidence it happened to be the same guy she was dating. I knew that wasn't the case, but that's how scarred I was by the memory of Shane Rollins.

We laughed and joked about old crushes, but thinking of Shane brought back waves of memories that I did my best to hide from the other girls. He was a little younger than my brother Micah, but he didn't go to the same high school, so they didn't know each other. His dad managed the YMCA where my best friend's family worked out when I was a kid, and I saw him every time I went there with her, which was often since we hung out all the time. I had it so bad for him, that by the time I got up the nerve to call on the phone and ask for him, I thought he would be happy to hear from me and would probably ask me out on my first date. I had the whole thing planned. I was whole-heartedly convinced that I would call, explain who I was, and Shane Rollins would ask me if I wanted to be his girlfriend right then and there.

It didn't happen like that at all.

The memory of that dreaded phone call was etched into my brain forever. When I finally got up the nerve to call the YMCA and ask for him, he got on the phone, and I spent three or four minutes trying to explain to him who I was. I went into detail, describing what I looked like and what time of day I usually saw him. He had no idea and even went so far as to say he thought it was a prank call. At one point in the terrible, horrible conversation, I said, "Remember? You told me I had pretty eyes?" only to have him laugh and say, "Stop messing around! Is this Isabel?"
Who the heck was Isabel and why did he not remember telling me I had pretty eyes?

Anyway, it was over three years of my life wasted on a stupid crush, which culminated in the most horrifying phone conversation of my entire life. I had a sudden loss of interest in going to the YMCA after that.