The Night Before Christian (6 page)

Christian chuckled.
“You scared the hell out of me that day. I just knew you’d seriously injured
yourself.”

“The only thing I
injured was my pride. And elbow.” She lifted her arm. “My battlefield wound.”

She hadn’t expected
Christian to reach across the table and glide his index finger across her scar.
The sensation made her tingle all over. Withdrawing her arm, she said, “You
took good care of me.”

He shrugged. “That’s
what you do when you love someone.”

The words made her
heart thump a little harder, her breathing a little more swallow. Unable to
maintain their eye contact a second longer, she lowered her eyes back to the
menu. “Every…” The words stuck in her throat. Clearing it, she said, “Everything
sounds so delicious.”

“Do you ever think
about us, Emory? About what could have been?”

She closed her eyes. Why
would he put her against the wall like this? Did she lie and say no? Did she
tell the truth and say every single day of her life? Her heart made the
decision for her. Meeting his gaze, she exhaled a slow, steady breath. “Of
course I do. You were my best friend.”

Christian’s jaw flexed,
and she wondered what words he bit back. As if he’d never posed the question,
his eyes left her. But a blink later, they settled on her again.

There, in his
penetrating stare, the questions lingered. She hadn’t done a grand job of
answering them back then, and she doubted she’d do much better now. Before any
words could escape past his lips, she intervened. “Don’t, Christian. Please.”

Their gazes held a long
time, each passing second reminding her she’d made a mistake two years ago.
She’d made the wrong decision for what she thought were the right reasons. Now
it was too late to make things right.

As crazy as it seemed,
she couldn’t shake the feeling that he still felt something for her. Of course,
the voice in her head worked to debunk the thought with its own unsolicited
commentary:

Why are you deluding
yourself? He’s getting married. Married! M-A-R-R-I-E-D. The only woman he has
feelings for is his fiancée. Fiancée! F-I-A-N-C-
é
-E.”

Cleary, the voice in her head thought
she was not only delusional, but illiterate, too. Though harsh in its approach,
she couldn’t dismiss it. Maybe she was delusional to think that after what
she’d done to him Christian could still love her.

By the time Christian
and Emory arrived at the hospital, it was a little after twelve. They’d swung
by the auto body shop to get some things Emory needed from her vehicle. It would
be at least another three days before her car was ready.

The second they walked
into Ms. Anne’s room, Christian knew he was in trouble.

“Jordyn? What are you
doing here?” Emory asked.

Jordyn flashed a
quizzical expression. “I spent the night, remember?” She smirked and crossed
her arms over her chest. “Christian, what did you do to my sister to make her
suffer memory loss?”

Emory shot Jordyn a
scowl that could have leveled a mountain. He was smart enough not to entertain
the question. Instead, he flashed his palms. Before long, he was sure he’d be
dealing with his own form of Emory-wrath. Especially when she discovered he’d
lied about Jordyn going to class.

“Did you not go to
class? You know I don’t like you skipping class?”

Jordyn’s brow arched. “Class?
I didn’t have class today. Why’d you think I had class?”

When Emory slid a
narrow-eyed gaze in his direction, Christian flashed a half-smile.

“You said my sister
asked you to pick me up because she had class.”

He’d had a feeling that
lie would come back to bite him in the ass.

Jordyn snapped her
fingers and popped her forehead. “You know what? Yes, I did tell Christian that.
It totally slipped my mind. The class was cancelled. Last minute. You know how
that goes.”

Emory tossed suspicious
glances at them both, but didn’t call either of them out. Instead, she shook
her head and neared her mother sitting on the side of the bed and wrapped the
woman into a warm embrace.

When Emory excused
herself to assist their mother into the bathroom, he turned to Jordyn. “Thank
you.”

“You’re welcome. But
you know she didn’t buy that, right?”

Oh, he knew. “I’m sure
she’ll let me know that later.”

“I’ve been meaning to
ask you something, Christian.”

Why did he get the
feeling he wouldn’t like whatever it was? “Sure. Anything.” He regretted the
anything part the second it slipped out.

Jordyn tilted her head
to one side. “How does that work, exactly?”

Confused, he said, “How
does what work?”

“How do you marry
another woman when it’s painfully obvious you’re still in love with my sister?”

The statement took him
by surprise and Jordyn must have seen it on his face.

“Tough question, huh?”
She tossed a glance toward the bathroom door, obviously to make sure Emory was
still on the opposite side of it. “I love my sister, Christian, and I don’t
want to see her hurt.”

“I would never hurt
Emory, Jordyn. You know that.” Despite how much she’d hurt him.

“I know you wouldn’t
intentionally hurt her. But what do you think is going to happen when you and
your
wife
ride off into the sunset?”

This time, Christian
glanced at the closed bathroom door.

“She still loves you,
Christian. And I know you still love her. But you have to walk away.”

The bathroom door
cracked open and Emory and their mother exited. The smile on Emory’s face faded
away. Had she sensed the tension in the room?

“What’s going on?”
Emory asked.

“Nothing,” Jordyn said,
playfully. “Just catching up with Christian.”

Christian slid his
hands in his pockets and flashed a forced smile.

Any future inquiry
Emory intended was thwarted by the entry of their mother’s doctor. Christian
watched the man’s lips move, but he hadn’t heard a single word. Jordyn’s words
bounced around inside his head like a ping-pong ball. As much as he hated to
admit it, she’d been right. He needed to walk away. But how?

“Christian?”

Emory’s voice
penetrated his thoughts. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

“Do you mind playing
chauffeur once more? I think it’ll be easier for mom to get in and out of your
SUV than Jordyn’s Hyundai.”

“Absolutely,” he said.

“Thank you.”

She eyed him a second,
as if trying to read his mind. Oh, she definitely didn’t want to be in his head
now. His tangled thoughts would frighten her. Hell, they even alarmed him.

By the time Ms. Anne
was actually discharged, it was close to four in the afternoon. Christian had
made plans to have dinner with his grandmother at six. He still had plenty of
time to get home, shower, and make it to the manor with time to spare.

“Earth to Christian,”
Emory said. When he faced her, she laughed. “What’s going on with you? At the
hospital. Now. You keep zoning out.”

Ms. Anne chimed in from
the backseat, sparing him from having to answer Emory.

“Handsome fella. Can we
get doughnuts?”

Christian eyed Ms. Anne
through the rearview mirror. “Pretty lady, you can have whatever you want.”

Ms. Anne grinned like
she’d just been crowned prom queen.

Emory eyed him as if
he’d committed a crime. “What?”

She glanced over her
shoulder at her mother, then back to him. In a muted tone, she said, “My mother
is like a boisterous five-year-old when she gets sugar. Jordyn and I will be
chasing her around the house all night.”

“Raspberry,” her mother
yelled.

They both laughed.

When they settled,
Emory eyed him again. God, she was beautiful. “What did I do this time?”

She shook her head.
“Nothing.”

Her focus shifted
through the windshield, but moments later drifted to him again.

“Come on. What?” he
asked with a hint of laughter in his tone.

“Thank you. I won’t
forget everything you’ve done for me.”

“And a vanilla
milkshake,” Ms. Anne blurted.

Christian smirked, then
eyed Ms. Anne through the mirror again. “Anything you—”

Emory jabbed a finger
at him. “
Shush
.”

He grabbed her hand and
pretended to bite her finger. The feel of her flesh against his caused a tingle
inside his palm. After what he’d experienced in the hospital lobby when he’d
held her shaking body in his arms, he’d vowed to keep his hands to himself. She
clouded his already foggy judgment.

Emory chuckled. “Pay
attention to the road. You’re carrying precious cargo.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“No one’s holding my
hand,” Ms. Anne said.

Christian and Emory
exchanged confused glances.

“Mom, what are you—?”

Emory’s eyes lowered
and his followed. Their hands were locked in an intimate hold. Emory cautiously
pulled away from him. He rested his hand in his lap and made a fist to preserve
the lingering sensation.

How in the hell had
that happened? Him holding her hand and neither realizing it. It didn’t take
him long to craft the explanation: their connection had always been so natural.

The rest of their trip
was made in silence. When they pulled into Ms. Anne’s driveway, he stared at the
two-story powder blue house. It brought back a lot of memories. Some of the
best moments of his life had been made inside that love-filled house.

Ms. Anne opened her
door and slid out. She didn’t protest the fact they hadn’t stopped for
doughnuts and milkshakes. He just assumed she’d forgotten she’d asked for the
things. If only he could forget his feelings for Emory with such ease.

“I’ll help you get your
mother inside,” he said, unbuckling his seatbelt. He half expected Emory to
play her usual superwoman role and protest his assistance, but she didn’t.

“Okay. You ready, Mom?”

The way Emory cared for
her mother filled him with a great deal of respect for her—even more than he already
harbored. She was so endearing and loving toward the woman. She hadn’t lost her
nurturing manner.

Ms. Anne swatted Emory
away, then clung to his arm. “I want handsome to help me.”

“I got it,” he said.

“Yeah, he’s got it,”
said Ms. Anne.

Emory flashed her
palms. “Fine.”

When they opened the
door, they were greeted by the toppled Christmas tree. Icy blue bulbs—some
whole, others shattered—littered the hardwood. A black Santa topper rested near
a worn dark gray recliner.

“Oh, dear.” Ms. Anne
said, resting her thin hand on her chest. “What a mess.”

“Don’t worry about
this, gorgeous. I’ll make it just like new,” Christian said.

Ms. Anne beamed.
“You’re such a good man. You remind me of my husband.” With a delicate touch,
she patted his cheek. “I’m glad you asked for my daughter’s hand. I’m proud to
call you my son.” Ms. Anne released her hold on him. “Can we play some
Christmas music?”

A nervous smile slid
across Emory’s face. “I’m sorry about that. With this disease, she can see
something on television and believe it actually happened. The other day she
asked if she could go with me alligator hunting. She’d been watching
Swamp
People
.”

“I understand,” he
said, but knew Ms. Anne wasn’t recalling some random moment she’d seen on TV.
The day before Emory had ended their relationship, he had asked her mother for
her hand. He’d just never got the opportunity to propose. “Don’t sweat it.”

Ms. Anne cranked the
radio. Chuck Berry’s “Run, Run Rudolph” blasted through the speakers.

Emory yelled over the
deafening music as she crossed the room. “Mom, maybe we should turn it down a
little. We don’t want the neighbors to call the police on us for disturbing the
peace.”

“I guess you’re right,”
Ms. Anne said. “I think I’d like to take a nap, dear.”

“Okay.” Emory excused them
and disappeared down the hall.

Christian started the
task of erecting the Christmas tree. It was a bit unstable, and he was
concerned it would topple over again. Tomorrow, he could— He abandoned the
thought.  There would be no tomorrow. He needed to distance himself from Emory.
It was for the best. He’d have a rental car delivered so she wouldn’t have to
work around Jordyn’s schedule. That’s the least he could do.

He was partially
responsible for why she didn’t have her car, but he didn’t regret having it
towed. That hunk of metal had been on its last leg. He’d purchase her a new
car, if he thought there was any fraction of a chance she’d accept it.

By the time Emory
returned, he’d almost finished with the cleanup.

“Christian, you didn’t
have to do this. I could—”

Without warning or
thought, he snatched Emory into his arms. “Watch out.”

As suspected, the tree
did a nosedive, barely missing her.

Emory stared up at him
with tender eyes. Her gaze trailed to his mouth, but only lingered there a
short time. “That…was close,” she said in an unsteady tone.

“Yeah, it was.” Too
close. Kinda like they were now.

Emory’s hands rested
against his chest, his arms around her waist. If there were ever a time he needed
strength, it was now. Staring into her inquisitive eyes took him back to the first
time they’d met. He recalled the bold statement he’d made to her that day, both
soaking wet under a massive oak tree: “
You’re going to be my wife
.” He’d
only known her an hour, but he just knew.

Christian followed
Emory’s gaze to the mistletoe that dangled above their heads. Who was he to
argue with tradition? “Have you ever been tempted to do something you knew was
wrong? Dead wrong. But the temptation to do it outweighed all of the potential
risks and outcomes.”

“Yes.” Her eyes slipped
to his mouth again. “Oh,yeah.”

“What did you do about
it?”

“Nothing. I knew if the
decision of whether or not to do it tortured me, then it wasn’t something I
should do.”

Emory closed her eyes
as he dragged the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip. “Sometimes…doing
nothing is easier said than done. Sometimes…it’s not even an option.”

Little mattered in
those seconds. Not their derailed past. Not his impending wedding. And
certainly not his fiancée. With commonsense neglected, Christian lowered his
mouth as close to Emory’s as he could get without actually kissing her. Their
warm breaths swirled, mixed into a sweet elixir that proved powerful enough to paralyze.

The moment was so
intense, so heavily charged with desire that his head spun. His body reacted in
the manner any man’s body would react when he wanted a woman more than he
wanted his next breath. His hardness strained against his zipper, his heart
punched against his chest.

No woman had ever made
him want more out of life than the woman before him. She’d made him want more,
made him do more, made him understand what being a man—a good man—was all
about. That particular lesson was the one that gave him the strength to pull
away.

Christian released her
and stepped away. When Emory’s lids slowly opened, they stared at one another.
Understanding flickered in her eyes, but it didn’t make his decision any
easier. Without a word, he hurried out the front door and down the stairs.
Emory’s footsteps clanked behind him.

“Christian,” Emory
called from the porch.

Keep walking
.
Unfortunately, the command didn’t make its way to his brain soon enough. He
stopped but couldn’t bring himself to face her.

“Look at me,” she said.
When he didn’t, she repeated her request, “Look at me, Christian, please.”

“I can’t,” he tossed
over his shoulder. “I…” He sighed heavily. “…
can’t
,” he said in a
mumble.

“Do you love her?”

He could hear the
emotion in Emory’s voice and imagined tears streaming down her cheeks. The
image cut him to the core. With balled fists, he said, “Don’t— don’t ask me
that, Emory.”

“Do. You. Love. Her?
It’s a simple question. Do you—?”

“
Yes
!” He
swallowed the painful lump in his throat. “Yes… I love her.” With that, he made
haste to his vehicle, slid behind the wheel, crank the engine, and was gone.