La Vie en Rose {Life in Pink} (19 page)

She stilled while trying to latch the clasp on her earring. “What?”

“He left like three hours ago.”

She glanced at the clock. “We’re supposed to leave in ten minutes. He said seven o’clock. Where is he?”

Rarity shrugged. “I’m sure he’ll be here.”

But didn’t they have reservations? Wouldn’t he have to get ready? Change?

Rarity laughed. “Relax, Emma. It’s Riley. Why are you so nervous?”

“You’re right.” But she was nervous in an excited way. “This is new, that’s all.”

“Becket took you out all the time.”

She snorted. “To his parents’ functions and things we were invited to. He
never
made plans on his own and took the initiative like this. Probably not what you want to hear, but your brother’s the most romantic guy I’ve ever met.”

“The mind boggles.” Rolling to her side, she made a sound of disgust. “Becket was a putz. You deserve romance. I’m glad Riley’s making you happy.”

Turning from the mirror, she grinned at Rarity. “You are?”

She shrugged. “Yeah. If he hurts you I’ll kill him, but if he’s making you happy...” she spread her fingers wide. “I’m accepting it.”

“Thank you. I want you to be okay with us dating. It means a lot that you’re accepting it.” She checked her lip gloss and silently giggled. “It feels like prom.”

“
Blah.
Sorry to hear that.”

Tsking, she stashed her gloss in her clutch. “I
liked
prom, Rarity.”

“Well, in keeping with tradition, I’m staying at Lexi’s tonight so you can have loud, obnoxious sex in post-prom fashion. Just not near or around any of my things please.”

She grinned. “That’s very considerate of you.”

They walked to the kitchen and again she stressed that Riley wasn’t home yet. She didn’t want to sit and get wrinkles.

There was a knock at the door. Rarity glanced through the peephole and laughed. “It’s for you.”

“Is it him?” He was knocking? Wasn’t he cute, picking her up on time. She opened the door and her jaw dropped.
“Your hair!”
He went from chestnut Matthew McConaughey waves to cropped Jude Law curls. It was an immediate promotion.

The side of his mouth pulled in a self-conscious grin as he stood, hands hidden behind his back, dressed in clothes she was certain he hadn’t owned yesterday, and looking like a prime cut of come to momma.

She swallowed, running a slow appraising eye over his impeccable choice of clothing. Gone were the jeans and faded T’s. This Riley was all kinds of posh, Upper West Side, New York fine. Fitted onyx pants and jacket complemented his slate gray dress shirt and black leather shoes. He didn’t wear a tie, which would have been too much. This was perfect. Hot.

“You look stunning,” he said, producing a bouquet of purple calla lilies from behind his back. “These are for you.”

She gasped. Flowers? He got her flowers! This was already the best date she’d ever had. “Thank you.” She giggled and said something all women loved having the opportunity to say. “I’ll put these in some water.”

“May I come in?”

She laughed. “Of course, silly.”  Taking the flowers to the kitchen, she made a girlie smirk at Rarity who rolled her eyes.

“Your place is nice. Have you lived here long?” he asked as she produced a vase from below the sink.

“Oh, joy. Roleplaying,” Rarity grumbled and Emma sent her a warning glare telling her to behave.

“Riley, this is my roommate, Rarity.”

“Nope.” Rarity held up her hands when Riley tried to introduce himself. “Too weird. I’m leaving. Have fun. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She grabbed her keys and left.

“Sorry,” Emma apologized.

“That’s okay.”

She slid the flowers to the center of the island and grinned. Walking to him, she studied his hair, brushing her fingers through the trimmed ends as she approached. She kissed his lips and whispered, “I can’t believe you cut your hair. It looks amazing.” She pressed her front to his.

“Whoa.” He caught her wrists and stepped back. “This is a little forward for a first date.”

She frowned and giggled. “What?”

Gently, he turned her wrists and tucked her hands behind her back, arching her away from him and kissing her neck. He whispered, “I did my homework. I read an article in
Cosmo
about the perfect first date. The kissing doesn’t come till the end, but don’t worry, it will, because Starsky and Hutch are looking mighty fine in this dress.”

Ohhh...
now she understood. Wasn’t he adorable? She could play that game. It added an element of suspense. She liked it.

“Okay, Mr. Lockhart. Where are you taking me?”

He held out her wrap and she stepped in as he lifted her hair and slid it over her arms. “Tonight we’re going to a little place called Jean Georges.”

She faced him, quite impressed. “I’ve always wanted to eat there!”

He drew her wrap together over her front. “Shall we?”

As they walked, Riley was an absolute gentleman, holding doors, blocking her from foot traffic, and slowing his pace to match her shorter strides. It occurred to her that these were things he’d always done, but tonight she noticed and really appreciated them.

When they reached the Trump Towers a sort of breathlessness came over her. Staring up at the looming building, she squeezed his hand. Stepping to the side, he looked at her in question.

“Riley, I just want you to know, this is already the most romantic night of my life. Thank you for doing this. I can’t imagine how much planning it took to get reservations on such short notice. And your clothes and your hair—” He kissed her.

“Shh. Don’t overthink it, cakes. I’m getting a shot at the prettiest girl in New York City tonight. She’s worth a little planning and finagling.”

The moment they entered the restaurant the staff fell into a choreographed rhythm that promised perfection and a one-of-a-kind dining experience. The white-gloved service began with her chair being withdrawn and a detailed description of the selection.

As the waiter walked away, she smirked at Riley. “This place is really fancy.”

“That’s why I got my fancy pants on.”

The waiter returned and filled their glasses. When they were alone again, Riley held her hand under the table and looked at her the way he often did, as if they were making love with just their eyes. Their surroundings disappeared as they fell into intimate familiarity.

“So,” he said softly once they’d sent their order to the chef. “In the Cosmo article, they claimed stimulating conversation was a must on a first date.”

“They?”

“Yes, the romance experts.”

She silently chuckled. “Okay.”

“I’ve prepared a few topics. Would you like to go through them?”

She laughed. “Sure.”

He nodded and sipped his wine. “Good. Topic one, Bill Murray versus Betty White, who would win?”

He stated the question so earnestly one would have thought he was discussing politics or religion, but no. She tried to curb her laughter out of respect for the other diners.

Smiling, she took a sip of wine and considered the question, answering with equal pomp. “Well, in a physical altercation, Bill Murray has youth on his side, but he’s getting up there too.”

“But Betty was a Golden Girl. That has to count for something,” he countered.

“True. One took on Slimer. The other lived with Blanche. They’re both courageous. And funny.”

“I have to say, I think it’s funnier when Betty White mentions balls. Her age gives her a shock advantage.”

She nodded. “I once saw a picture of her posing nude when she was young. She was pretty sexy.”

Both his brows rose. “Emma, women like Betty White will
always
be sexy, because she’s cool. Age doesn’t play into it. What is she, ninety-four now? I’d totally put a poster of her in my room.” And so it was settled, Betty was better than Bill.

After their first course, a delicious autumn pumpkin soup, they moved on to other stimulating topics.

“Do you worry about aging?” he asked.

“What kind of question is that?” she laughed, unsure if he was implying something.

He shrugged. “Your makeup looks pretty. You don’t usually wear that much.”

Self-conscious, she sipped her wine and considered visiting the ladies room. “Thanks?”

“You don’t need it, is what I’m saying,” he clarified. “Forget I said anything.”

“It’s okay.”

He shook his head. “Sorry. I think you look really beautiful tonight. You’re beautiful every night, with or without makeup. I’m just gonna stop talking.”

“It’s okay, Riley. Thank you.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Sometimes I worry about aging. Guys can’t hide stuff the way girls can. Like, what if in ten years my Adam’s apple starts to sag and I look like I have chin balls?”

She snorted while taking a sip of wine and quickly grabbed a napkin. People glanced at them as she blotted up the dribble on her chin. “Jesus, Riley, chin balls? You’re not a turkey.”

“Would you still love me if I had a wattle?” he asked with the utmost gravity.

She smirked, sensing his fancy pants were getting a little tight. “Yes. I’d still love you.”

The waiter brought out their second course, a spectacular crab ravioli that melted in her mouth. She didn’t want to think about the price of their dinner. Everything was so lavish and delicious. She’d never tasted anything like it.

Once she’d spent Thanksgiving with the Lockharts. It was extravagant and formal, but mostly weird. Riley and Rarity were nothing like their parents. She wasn’t sure what reminded her of that holiday, but now that she’d remembered how awkward that evening was she wanted to avoid a repeat episode.

“Would you like to come home with me for Thanksgiving?” she asked.

He stilled and slowly grinned. “Absolutely.”

Sometimes, when she caught him off guard, she saw flashes of vulnerability behind the laughter. Inviting him to her home for the holidays did just that. Although he appeared unshakable, he harbored insecurities. It was endearing to be reminded that he was as human as she.

Sliding her hand into his, she squeezed. “I love you, Riley. Tonight’s been amazing.”

His smile faded as he leaned close and brushed his lips softly over hers. Chills chased over her arms as her chest lifted, pressing into him. She dragged the tip of her tongue over his full lower lip, not wanting to get too carried away in the fancy restaurant, but needing to taste him.

“Riley?”

“Hmmm,” he hummed, nibbling.

Pressing her forehead to his, she whispered over his lips. “I know this is our first date and there were probably some rules in that article you read, but I’m pretty sure I’m going to let you have sex with me tonight.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m gonna say yes.”

She giggled as he kissed her once more, their desire mounting toward inappropriate.

A throat cleared. “Emma?”

Her entire body stiffened. Recognizing his voice, she took a moment to make eye contact with Riley. His expression hardened as she pulled back, took a galvanizing breath, and turned. But her gaze didn’t go to Becket. It went to the long, artificially tanned legs leading into a very mini lace dress.

Goldie.

Her stomach dropped like a grand piano falling from a penthouse window, audibly forcing her breath out of her throat. The girl was a size negative two with double-D breasts and the whitest teeth she’d ever seen. Against her fake tan and platinum hair she looked as plastic and as flawless as Barbie herself.

“Grayson,” Riley finally greeted, reminding Emma she was staring.

“Lockhart. I almost didn’t recognize you.”

Emma ripped her focus from the other woman. “What are you doing here, Becket?”

“We’re meeting friends for dinner. How have you been?”

How had she been? A second ago she was fine. Now she wasn’t sure how to describe her state.

“We’re great,” Riley answered for the both of them, sliding his arm over her shoulders.

“Where are my manners? Emma, this is Goldie Haslett. Goldie, this is Emma Sanders. We used to be an item.”

Was he fucking kidding? They were supposed to get married. Didn’t that tramp know who she was? Wasn’t she aware that
she
was the other woman?

“It’s nice to meet you,” Goldie chirped and held out a hand, fingers down like she expected someone to kiss them. Emma stared at her airbrushed nails and swallowed back the taste of bile.

“Well, we won’t keep you,” Riley said.

Becket nodded. “Nice seeing you, Emma. Enjoy your evening.” He took Malibu Barbie’s arm and followed the patiently waiting hostess to their table.

“You okay?” Riley whispered the moment they were relatively alone again.

Slowly, she looked down at the table, feeling like she’d fallen out of a dream and landed in a nightmare.

“Em?”

“Yeah,” she rasped. “Sorry. I just... phew.”

“Here, take a sip of wine.” Her glass drifted into her line of vision.

She drank heavily until the goblet was empty. “She was, like, twelve.” A sound of distaste formed in the back of her throat. “There wasn’t one natural thing about her. I don’t get it. How does someone go from me to that?”

“He downgraded, if you ask me,” Riley joked, his quick laughter fading as she showed no sign of amusement.

“Where’s the waiter? I need more wine.”

“Here, have mine.”

The weight of his glass filled her fingers. “I mean, I guess that’s what guys want, big, perky breasts and a waist the size of my wrist. Her thighs didn’t even touch in that handkerchief she was passing off as a dress. And did you see how high her shoes were?”

“I didn’t look.”

“Oh my God, he must think about me and my cheap clothes and laugh.”

“Emma—”

“I mean what the hell? Her purse cost more than my entire outfit.”

“So what?”

“What a joke I must be...
we used to be an item.
How about I was meant to be his fucking wife?”

“Shh...”

She reached for her purse, her hand noticeably trembling. “I gotta get out of here.”

Rising, she bumped the table, sloshing the water and causing silverware to clank. The humiliation just kept accumulating.