La Vie en Rose {Life in Pink} (20 page)

He caught her wrist, his eyes tight with concern as he studied her. “Emma, wait a second. Slow down.”

If she didn’t get out of there she’d start crying and really make a scene. Shaking off his grip, she whispered, “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

People turned to stare at her as she made a quick escape. There was nowhere to hide from their scrutiny.

Sliding around the table, she dodged a waiter and weaved through the dining room until she spotted the exit. Glancing back, she saw Riley reach for his wallet as a concerned waiter approached. Guilt swamped her as she fled. He’d created such a magical night, but Becket’s sudden appearance brought every one of her flaws into the glaring light and spoiled everything.

How was it, in a city of eight million people and nearly twenty thousand restaurants, her ex picked this one on this night? Hurrying past the hostess desk, the doorman quickly held the doors as she rushed outside into the cool evening air.

“Emma!” Riley came after her.

Humiliated, she couldn’t bring herself to face him. She didn’t stop until she reached the curb and nearly walked right into traffic. He grabbed her arm and jerked her away from the street. “What are you doing?”

Shaking off his constricting hold, she scowled. “Don’t grab me like that.”

“Then get away from the street.”

“I’m not a child, Riley! I know how to not get hit by a car.”

“You went from totally okay to maniac in two seconds flat. Give me a moment to catch up.”

Her mouth fell open and she shoved him. Didn’t he get what just happened? “I’m not crazy!” Turning, she marched toward home.

“Damn it, Emma, wait!”

“Leave me alone. You don’t get it.”

He followed as she made her way through the oncoming pedestrians. “Leave you alone? Nice. We were having a perfectly good evening until they showed up. This isn’t my fault, but you’re sure acting like it is.”

“That must be because I’m a maniac.” She crossed the street.

“I meant you were
acting like one.
There’s a difference.”

He was right, but she couldn’t get it together, not when all her imperfections were laid bare in the glaring light bouncing off Goldie’s pearly teeth and frosted hair. Her chest tightened painfully. These shoes were not intended for fast getaways.

Her throat closed as she fought back the urge to cry. She
was
being a maniac and she didn’t know why—well, she knew, but her excuse was shameful. No one liked insecure women. Riley didn’t deserve this, but she was too far-gone to collect her dignity and act like nothing happened. She needed a few moments of privacy to fall apart in peace and then she could go back to acting like overly beautiful women didn’t intimidate the crap out of her—even when they stole her life and were living it better than she ever had.

“Just leave me alone.”

“God damn it, Emma. Do you want your wrap?”

“What?”

“Your shawl thing. We left without it.”

“Great.” She’d just bought that, but it’s what she deserved for storming out of a four star restaurant like a jackass.

He sighed, his frustration clear. “I’ll go back and get it.”

“Forget it.” She sniffled, the loss of her wrap being the straw that broke the fat ex-fiancée’s back. “Please just leave me alone, Riley.” She didn’t want him to see her cry over stupid Becket. It was an unstoppable, pathetic female moment that was happening whether she permitted it or not. The less witnesses to her shame, the better.

He stopped following her and her tears fell faster. She expected too much from him. This wasn’t Riley her roommate. It was Riley her boyfriend, and a breakdown over an ex-lover was the last thing he should have to witness, and the last thing she expected to happen—let alone tonight.

“I’m going back to get your shawl. I’ll meet you at the loft.”

She kept walking, needing the privacy to pull herself together. She’d ruined their night and that only made her more upset. The shock that Becket could still affect her in such a way was too much to process and the fact that it happened right in front of Riley was beyond humiliating.

When she finally entered the loft, she threw her purse at the couch and marched straight to her room. Yanking off her heels, she hurled them into the closet. The moment she caught her reflection in her vanity mirror, she broke and cried in earnest.

Lip gloss gone, her mouth was stained from merlot. Black makeup ran down her cheeks leaving her resembling a drunken raccoon. And under it all was her pale, unmanicured, frizzy haired, plump self. She yanked off her earrings and chucked them on the vanity.

The front door slammed and Marla let out a sleepy woof from the bed. “Emma?”

She really didn’t want him to see her right now. Maybe if she were quiet he’d leave her alone.

The door creaked as he stood at the threshold to her bedroom, her wrap draped over his arm. “What are you doing?”

Wiping her eyes, she added another smudge of black to her cheeks. “Please go away, Riley.”

“No.” He walked into her room and tossed her wrap on the bed. She lowered her head as he paced behind her. Embarrassment constricted her breathing as she waited for him to yell at her for acting like a psycho and a shrew. He had every right to be angry. She was angry with herself.

“Why are we fighting over your ex?” he snapped.

“We’re not fighting,” she argued, her adrenaline fading to emotional exhaustion.

“The hell we aren’t. You freaked out, left me in the middle of a restaurant, ran from Central Park West to here and freaking shoved me. What the hell, Emma?”

“You called me a maniac!” She lashed out, too overwhelmed to argue logically.

“You were acting like one! I was only trying to understand what was wrong and help you, but you jumped down my throat.”

Disgusted with herself and her behavior, she wiped her nose. “I’m sorry.”

He stopped pacing and shook his head. “Just...just tell me why you’re so upset.”

She laughed and started to cry again. “Weren’t you there? Didn’t you see her?”

“Who? Goldie? Yes, I saw her, but I didn’t see anything special.” He let out a frustrated breath. “Is it...Grayson? Are you jealous she has him?”

“No,” she spat. “It’s not that she has him, it’s that he’s with
her.
”

She couldn’t compete with that runway height or poise. There was an extreme difference between women like that and ordinary, dumpy women like her. Sooner or later there would be another
Goldie
, only this time she’d take Riley, which she couldn’t stomach. Feeling threatened and small, she gave up, too much insecurity to explain in one evening.

“I don’t understand why she matters, Emma. Please talk to me.”

Wiping her nose with the back of her hand, she mumbled, “All this time I’ve been telling myself he downgraded.” She laughed derisively. “What a joke.
Clearly
, I was wrong.”

“Are you...” He laughed. “Are you out of your mind? Emma, that girl back there, nothing about her was real. She probably spends hours trying to imitate a quarter of the natural beauty you have. Girls like that are everywhere. It’s a matter of buying the skank clothes and paying for a spray tan, some Botox, and whatever else the sugar daddy will provide. It’s all fake.”

“You don’t understand. It’s what guys like and
none of it
is me.”

In a low voice, he said, “It’s not what I like.”

He crouched beside her vanity and cupped his hands on the side of her neck, urging her to face him. “You’re beautiful, Emma. You don’t need any of that fake crap. Girls like her wish they had what you have.”

He handed her a tissue and she wiped her nose. “But
he
doesn’t see it that way.”

He looked down and she hated that her confession hurt him. “I see.”

“I just wish he knew what he lost. I wish he saw me the way you do.”
And I wish I had a guarantee that you’ll always see me that way.

“Why does it matter, Emma? There are some people in this world whose views and priorities are so screwed up we’re never gonna impress them without sacrificing what really counts. They’re judgmental and critical and overly concerned with superficial bullshit. Don’t lower yourself to be something according to their standards, because their standards are garbage.”

He shook his head, as if struggling to clearly explain his thoughts. “You’re a unique brand others can’t replicate, Em. Be okay with being you.”

Even in her most illogical state, he was patient. When would she finally accept that he was
not
like other men? Her mouth tightened as she wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry I shoved you and spoke to you that way.”

He kissed her nose. “I forgive you.” He stood and pulled her to stand. “Come with me.”

She followed him into the kitchen where he sat her on a stool. Unfolding a dishtowel, he ran warm water over it, and wrung it out. Tipping up her chin, he gently wiped at her eyes.

Concentration played on his face, as he focused on her cheeks and the soft skin beneath her lashes. She closed her eyes, trembling, trying to recall when anyone other than her mother took this much care or showed such concern for her.

“You don’t need any of this,” he whispered, swiping the wet cloth over her lids. “There.”

Cool air teased her damp face as she opened her eyes and blinked at him. Her heart pinched so tight with unprecedented emotion, her voice strained to speak. “Where did you come from, Riley?”

He smirked and tossed the cloth in the sink. Taking her hand, he led her to the couch. Stripping off his jacket, he sat in the center, and pulled her to his lap so she was straddling him.

She was wrung out from crying. Tired. Pulling her into a hug, he pressed her cheek to his shoulder and rubbed her back. After a few minutes of simply holding her, he gently unzipped her dress and ran his fingers over her spine. His touch soothed her like nothing else could.

His mouth closed over the edge of her shoulder, gently kissed as the sleeve of her dress lowered. “These shoulders,” he whispered, “they say a lot about you.”

He caressed her throat and dragged his lips to her other collarbone. “When they’re low, I know something’s weighing on you. Do you know how beautifully you wear your courage? I love watching your shoulders rise in the face of a challenge. It’s not the delicate slope that turns me on. It’s the language they speak when you’re silent. Your whole face lights up when you hold your shoulders high. It’s like you’re fearless.”

His hands traced her calves, up to her knees then to her hips. As he gathered the skirt of her dress, she lifted, allowing him to pull it off. A slow chill crept over her exposed skin as he studied her.

“What you call flaws I call feminine, Emma. Your curves don’t detract from your beauty. I like softness, boobs, hips, and all those things I don’t have. Don’t let some plastic reproduction make you ashamed of your natural form.”

He dragged his hand over her lower belly and she instinctively sat up. “See this,” he whispered. “Soft. I love your little tummy. I think it’s ultra feminine, like your thighs. Those curves are lush, fruitful, something a healthy woman should have.”

He unhooked her bra and pulled it away. Cupping her breasts, he leisurely massaged. “I don’t care about the symmetry of your tits or the size. I just like to hold them, play with them, watch the blood rush to the tips as your nipples get hard and you get aroused. I think about your boobs all the time, Emma, and I
never
think a negative thought. I love them. I want to build a fort between them and suck them and blow motorboats on them because I’m a guy and that’s the dumb shit we’re into.”

She laughed, her tears of sadness washed away by tears of relief. He was right—perfect even—and she hated that running into her ex had made her question their special connection.

“There’s that beautiful smile.” He grinned. “The day we went to the park, right after we got Marla, I told you that you were a great person and you turned and smiled at me. I was lost in that moment, Em. Between your smile and those sweet brown eyes, I’m a goner.”

He nudged her hip. “Stand up.”

She slid off of his lap and stood in front of him as he unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it aside. His belt loosened and he unclasped his slacks, noticeably hard.

When he rested his arms on the back of the couch, he took a long look at her. She tried not to fidget, but it wasn’t easy.

“I think the most attractive thing about you, Em, is that you have no idea how beautiful you really are. Your laugh, your scent, they’re all parts of your attractiveness, but everyone doesn’t get the chance to make you laugh or smell your neck first thing in the morning. That mole you hate on your back? I’m obsessed with it. It makes me crazy when I catch a glimpse of it under your bra strap.”

He leaned forward and carefully removed her panties. Her lashes lowered as excruciating awareness stole over her, making it difficult not to cover herself, but she remained still for him. His finger teased at the soft hair at her apex and she sighed. Her sex pulsed when she heard the clank of his belt hit the floor. Scooting forward, he kissed her stomach and cupped her ass, pulling her closer as he stroked himself.

His teeth nipped her hip as he pulled back and took her hands, guiding her to his lap again. Although they were running through every flaw she personally hated, he’d somehow managed to change her thinking, offering the slightest glimpse of her through his eyes. If he only knew how she saw him. But he never would, because there simply weren’t words for how incredible he was to her.

Straddling him, she braced her hands on his shoulders as he stretched, dragging his arousal between her thighs. Parting her sex, he released his flesh and cupped her hips, pressing her low.

She gasped as he slowly filled her. He thrust leisurely, dragging her body over his, creating delicious friction as she adjusted to his width. His hands fondled her breasts as he studied her.

“It doesn’t matter how you dress or do your hair, Emma.” He leaned close and kissed her shoulder. “The sexiest thing you can wear is a smile I gave you, the kind that goes all the way to your eyes.”