Текст книги "Craving Him"

Автор книги: Kendall Ryan

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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 13 страниц)

17

Ben

“What do you think of this one?” I asked Bray, holding up an elaborately cut five-carat-diamond ring.

He shifted his weight, looking completely out of place at Tiffany in his worn jeans and scuffed-up Chucks. But I needed him here. I needed his opinion. “Ah . . . honestly? That’s too much. Emmy’s a simple girl, right?”

“Yeah.” He was right. This was too much. I wanted the best for her. But she’d want something a little more understated. I wanted something significant on her finger. Something that said, She’s fucking taken, but I needed to respect who she was. I continued scanning the rows of rings.

“What about this?” I held up a much simpler two-carat solitaire for him to inspect.

“Yeah. Actually, that’s perfect.”

Exactly what I was thinking. This would suit Emmy to a T. It was simple, classic, timeless. It’d look beautiful on her finger. “I’ll take it,” I told the salesclerk.

I dropped the ring into his waiting palm, feeling proud, excited, and optimistic. The thought of kneeling on one knee and sliding this ring onto Emmy’s finger while gazing into her pretty blue eyes made me feel like a damn emotional fool. This is what people wrote love songs about. Entire novels. Shit. I needed to pull it together. I was getting fucking misty-eyed inside of Tiffany. What a fucking tool.

I couldn’t wait to take Emmy out this weekend to celebrate, and I hoped when I pulled out the ring, she’d be surprised—in a good way. I’d only hinted at my openness to marriage, wanting to keep things a surprise.

“Wait. . . .” The salesclerk grinned up at me. “You’re the guy from the video. Fuck me . . . London Burke . . . you’re a lucky man. This ring for her?” He smiled at me, waiting for my answer.

It wasn’t uncommon to be recognized, but I had no clue what he was talking about. And London? I hadn’t dated London in years. “What video?”

He laughed and winked at me. “The video everyone’s talking about. I saw it online this morning. That shit was hot.”

Oh shit.

Braydon and I exchanged a look of horror.

Realization flooded me and I suddenly felt sick. The blurry sex tape we’d recorded while drunk two years ago. No way. It couldn’t be. I’d destroyed my copy and London had sworn she deleted hers, too.

I swallowed the bitter taste in my mouth. Awareness burned in the back of my brain . . . something told me Fiona was behind the leak of the tape. I racked my brain, fighting to remember back to two years ago. I’d confided in her once I sobered up and realized that I’d fucking recorded a sex tape. I knew that if it got out, I’d need her help. At the time, in the stark light of morning, I’d regretted what London and I had done. Fiona had assured me that it’d never be discovered. We’d been in Singapore when we deleted the copy on my laptop. Only now I wondered if she could have saved a copy for herself somewhere. I would have never suspected her at the time. But now knowing how she truly felt about me, and knowing that we always had adjoining rooms back then, she had the opportunity and means and potentially the motivation, too. The thought sickened me.

I dashed from the store, pulling my phone from my pocket. I dialed Emmy’s number.

No answer.

I tried her again.

Nothing.

And again.

Fuck.

I paced the sidewalk, traffic zooming past as I silently prayed she’d pick up, give me the chance to explain. I needed to do some major damage control before she found out about the video.

On the eighth ring, Ellie answered. “Yes?”

I stopped suddenly. “Is she there?”

“She is.”

“Can I speak to her?” My heart was thumping like a goddamn racehorse.

“Ben, she knows. She saw the video.”

Fuck. “I’m so sorry. Let me explain. Let me apologize.”

“She can’t talk right now.”

“Please. Just put her on the phone.”

“You’ve gone too far this time. Pushed her too much. She’s cracked.”

“Cracked?”

“Yeah. She’s in bed crying herself to sleep. It’s done. Just leave her be.”

“I can’t,” I admitted. “She’s my everything. She owns me. That video is from years ago, and London and I made it as a stupid joke. We swore we’d deleted it. I think Fiona released it as a last act of revenge. Please . . . we can’t let her win.” My voice cracked.

“You’ve fucked up too many times. She can’t forgive this. Would you really expect her to if the tables were turned?” Ellie hung up and I pressed a hand against the brick wall to steady myself. In the course of three minutes flat, my world had just crumbled.

Fuck that. I hailed the nearest cab, leaving Braydon shouting something from the jewelry shop behind me.

“Drive like the fucking wind and I’ll tip you handsomely,” I told the driver, then gave him Emmy’s address in Queens.

When I reached her building I took the stairs two and a time, jogging up to her unit while my heart pounded erratically. Dread filled me. I just needed her to see me, to look into my eyes and let me explain.

Forcing a deep breath of air into my lungs, I knocked at the door and waited, stuffing my hands into my pockets.

Nothing happened for several long seconds, and I knew either Emmy or Ellie was peering through the peephole, deciding on whether or not to open the door.

Moments ticked past and I thought I heard whispering coming from inside.

I knocked again, more urgently this time. “Emmy, please. I know you’re in there. Let me explain.” My voice sounded steady but my stomach curled into a tight knot.

Silence.

I pounded against the door, desperation overtaking me. “Baby.”

I beat my fists against the door for what seemed like forever until my knuckles were red and raw.

“Go away, Ben. It’s over,” Ellie called tersely through the door.

Tears filled my vision. It couldn’t end like this. I slunk to the floor and sat there for hours, praying that the door would open, if not to see me, at least because one of them needed to go out for something. I was certain once Emmy saw me, met my eyes, I could make her understand.

But that chance never came.

* * *

In the days that followed, my phone rang and rang, but it was never Emmy.

At Fiona’s sixth call for the day, I finally picked up. “Yeah?”

“Love . . .” Her endearment for me hung in the air, feeling empty. “I saw the news and I’ve been trying to reach you. Are you okay?”

“I’m fucking fabulous,” I bit out. Was she seriously asking me that? My sex tape had been leaked, likely by her, and my girlfriend had left me. London and I had spoken once when the news story broke and she’d apologized profusely. She’d said she had no clue how the video got out. I believed her. She wouldn’t have intentionally leaked it—she was just as mortified as I was. Her publicist had released the obligatory statement requesting the public to respect her privacy during this difficult time.

“You need me to fix this for you. Emmy can’t handle this level of PR, love. Let me handle this.”

Her motivation for releasing the video became clear. It was her last-ditch effort to bring me back to her. If she thought I’d need her to fix this, she was wrong. She also assumed Emmy was still working for me. Emmy wasn’t even speaking to me, but I was still paying her. I refused to stop that. Emmy would never suffer because of my fuck-ups. I called her nonstop, left voicemails until her mailbox was full, and yet still nothing. Utter silence on her end.

“Fiona . . .” I warned. I didn’t need her help.

“Let me take care of it. I’ll make it go away.”

I didn’t care about it going away. I just wanted Emmy back. The sex tape didn’t bother me, The world knowing that I liked to fuck didn’t matter. Losing my girl, my reason for breathing, did. Big fucking time. “I don’t need your help. And in fact, give me one reason why I should believe you didn’t leak this tape yourself.”

“Darling . . .” She stumbled only slightly. “I would never hurt you. You have to believe that.”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore. All I know is London didn’t release it, and I sure as fuck didn’t.”

A tense silence hung between us while I tried to get my breathing under control.

“Can I ask you something?” her voice was tiny, unsure, very unlike Fiona. “I run a multimillion-dollar business. We’d be a power couple. Unstoppable. What could you possibly want with her? What does she have to offer you?”

“Fiona, I’m not discussing this with you. I’m with Emmy. She’s all I want. Let’s not drudge this up again.” I was pretty certain it wouldn’t do Fiona any good to hear me pledge my love for Emmy.

“Don’t you want a woman capable of being your equal?”

“She isn’t my equal. She’s better than I ever hope to be.”

Her family, her positive outlook on life, her simple beauty. I wanted whatever she was willing to give me. I’d take it. Gladly. In an industry filled with vanity and looks-are-everything, Emmy never let the fame go to my head. She’d always treated me like a regular guy. Like a man who was meant to be cherished for the actual person I was inside and not some idol to be worshipped and gazed at from afar. It was the only real thing in my life. This sex-tape scandal only proved what I already knew. I wasn’t near good enough for her.

“Ben?” she asked, filling the silence.

I said nothing. I’d said everything I had to say.

“I’ve got to go, Fiona. Good-bye.” The tone to my voice was final and I knew she knew it, too.

The more I thought about it, the more I became convinced Fiona was behind the video’s release. Though I knew I’d never be able to prove it. A woman scorned would go to great lengths to exact her revenge. I’d left her agency, taking the income she made from my bookings, and of course I’d called off our affair. Though to be fair, I’d done that before I even met Emmy. I think in Fiona’s mind, though, the two events were related. She blamed Emmy for stealing me away. The truth was, I’d just had enough of her possessiveness over me. And I’d started to feel shady, sleeping with my boss and all.

I was done with her. The drama, the lies . . . all of it. She’d been good to me and my mother for a long time, but those days were done. It was time to move on. I just wished I knew how the fuck to do that.

18

Emmy

One Month Later

I knew I was getting on Ellie’s last nerve but I couldn’t help myself. I’d spent the entire month in sweatpants, moping around, moving from my bed to the couch and back again. I rarely ate a proper meal, preferring instead bowls of ice cream, sugary candy, soda, and chips. It was low-maintenance and easy to grab when I was sitting on my butt feeling sorry for myself. I refused to shower unless absolutely necessary and seldom went outside. It was nearly Christmas, and a beautiful white layer of fluffy snow blanketed the city, but all I wanted to do was hole up in my own private misery.

Ellie tried time and again to get me out for some fresh air and set my laptop on my lap to encourage me to look for a job, but I kept putting it off. I wasn’t ready to face that this was my life. I wasn’t ready to accept that I was no longer with Ben. Frustratingly enough, he continued to call my cell phone nonstop and had my regular pay direct-deposited into my bank account. And of course he still occupied my brain the majority of the time.

Each night before bed I fought the urge to break down and listen to the dozens of voice messages he’d left. But I couldn’t. That might lead to me dialing his number and calling him back. I was desperate to hear his deep, gravelly, sleep-laced voice. It haunted my dreams. Instead, I did the only thing I could do. I called my mom. I’d put off telling anyone about the breakup. It was as if even speaking it aloud would make it real. More final.

The second I heard her voice I broke down in tears like a blubbering baby.

“Momma?”

“Emerson Jean, what is it?”

“Ben and I . . . we . . . broke up . . .” I sobbed.

“Oh, honey.” She did her best to soothe and comfort me without asking too many prying questions, and for that I was grateful.

“We’ve been through too much, Mom. I just don’t know if we’re meant to be.”

“Well that’s for you to decide, honey. I know you seemed awfully happy when you were here.”

“We were . . .”

“Let me tell you a little story,” she said. “Grandma and Grandpa Clarke were together sixty-seven years before he passed. They had a long and very happy marriage. But did you know they almost split up in the early years of their marriage?”

I shook my head. “I didn’t know that.” My grandparents were two of the most in-love people I’d ever known. They loved each other deeply, still held hands, laughed and kissed regularly right up until the end.

“Romance novels and movies paint a too-rosy picture. Real life has its ups and downs, honey. Ben has a past. So what? He’s a public figure and all those mistakes are going to be made public. That’s just how it goes. You have to decide what you want. What you can live with. Can you live with his past? Or can you live without him?”

I knew I couldn’t live without him. But I also wasn’t sure I was ready to forgive him just yet.

By morning, my swollen red eyes and ratty hair were a dead giveaway of the night I’d had. I dragged my granny’s quilt out to the couch and plopped down. I could hear Ellie in the kitchen and closed my eyes, silently praying she’d take pity on my poor soul and bring me a cup of coffee.

“All right. Enough.” Ellie ripped my ratty old quilt from my legs. “You’re getting off your ass today.”

I fought for my blanket back, but seeing it was no use I just curled my legs up under me on the couch, frowning at her. “It’s not that easy, Ells.”

She sat down in the armchair across from me. “I get that this is hard. Trust me. Men suck most of the time. But don’t let him own you. Don’t let him win.”

I chewed on my lip, digesting her meaning. It made sense. I nodded.

“Good. Because I kind of set you up on a lunch date for tomorrow.”

“What? Hell no. I’m not ready for that yet. Are you insane?”

She rolled her eyes. “Stop it. It’s one date. With Todd from my work. He’s harmless. You can do this. Getting back on the horse and all that shit.”

I knew the saying well. It was one my grandmother used with me often while I was growing up. And I appreciated the sentiment. When your world fell apart, it was imperative to pick yourself up and dust yourself off. Of course that was easier said than done. I knew I needed to make an effort. Comb my hair, brush my damn teeth . . . but dating any other man besides Ben—that was the last thing on my mind. I wasn’t interested. I didn’t know if I’d ever be interested. “I’m not going, Ells. Call him and cancel.”

“If you don’t want Ben in your life, fine, I get it. But don’t stop living it.”

She was right. And though I was nowhere near ready to date, I nodded in agreement. Only to prove to myself that life could go on after Ben Shaw. “Fine. I’ll go.”

Ellie squealed. “That’s my girl. He’s nice. You’ll have fun, trust me.”

“He better not be an ass.”

“It’s just lunch. What could go wrong?”

* * *

What could go wrong? I thought of Ellie’s harmless statement over and over again as I sat across from Todd. He’d shown up twenty minutes late to the chain restaurant he’d chosen we meet at. I’d been about to leave when he’d come inside in a huff, complaining loudly to the hostess about the slow service of the valet parking. I’d crossed my fingers and said a silent prayer that the short, stocky man with gel-slicked hair was not my date. Sadly, he was.

And now we were seated in a booth under the harsh lighting of a hanging lamp and I couldn’t help noticing the sticky and dirty tablecloth, Todd’s too-long nose hair, and his fingernails, which needed trimming. Not to mention how lonely and miserable I felt. Thankfully, though, we’d ordered drinks and I concentrated on sipping the giant margarita in front of me. Seriously, the size of the goblet of tequila and lime juice was my saving grace.

“You really like that thing, don’t you?” he asked, taking a sip of his own drink.

Ben would have encouraged me to have whatever I wanted, not judge me for draining my cocktail in record time.

“Nerves, I guess,” I answered, sliding the large goblet away from myself.

He smiled warmly. “Haven’t dated in a while?”

“Something like that.”

I continued sipping my margarita while Todd prattled on about his job and I tried to appear interested.

“How hungry are you?” he asked. “Is an appetizer okay?” He closed his menu before I could answer.

I did the same. “That’s fine.” I didn’t know that by appetizer he meant the free chips and salsa the server had delivered to the table. If this was dating, then no thanks. I’d been wined and dined around the world. Ben had set an impossibly high bar. It was almost as if he ensured no man would ever measure up to him. Realization struck like a sharp pain coursing through me. Todd was a regular guy, but after Ben no one would compare. It was my worst fear come to life. “I’ll be right back,” I murmured, sliding from the booth. I needed some air. Some space.

I stood outside the restaurant entrance and pulled in deep lungfuls of air. I just wanted to go home, change into my pajamas, and erase this date from my memory. Unfortunately, moments later, Todd strolled out looking for me.

“Hey,” I said.

He placed his hand against my lower back. “Are you okay?”

It happened so fast I thought my mind was playing tricks on me. I blinked rapidly, trying to process what I was seeing. Ben had Todd by the shirt collar and was hauling him away from me. My heart twisted at the sight of him. Ben dragged Todd backward, shoving his back against the wall. Todd let out an oomph.

“Get your fucking hands off her,” Ben growled.

“Ben!” I tugged at his arms, trying to get him to release my date, but he didn’t budge an inch. His entire body was tensed and ready to fight. “Let him go,” I begged again. He was causing a scene.

Sad hazel eyes found mine and everything else ceased. The sights and sounds of the street fell away, and it was just us. A man and woman so beautifully wrong for each other it hurt. My lungs screamed for oxygen and I gulped a breath of air. “Let him go,” I repeated, my senses returning.

“He was touching you,” he said softly. His gentle tone with me was at complete odds with the roughness of his grasp on Todd. “You looked upset.”

“He’s my date.”

“You’re on a fucking date?” His hands dropped from Todd’s collar and he stumbled several steps back like he’d been burned. Forcing fingers into his messy hair, Ben’s agony was almost pitiable. An apology was on the tip of my tongue until I remembered his actions had pushed me down this path.

“Todd Hammerstein.” My awkward date who I wanted to disappear thrust his hand out toward Ben.

“With this guy?” Ben asked. He made no move to return the handshake, his fingers flexing at his sides. He obviously wanted to hit something. Preferably my date. I felt like I was watching him for the first time. Seeing straight inside his soul. How badly he needed love. And how much it hurt him to see me with someone else.

“How have you been?” he asked, turning to face me.

“Shitty. You?”

“The same,” he admitted.

“What are you doing here?”

“I brought my mother shopping.” He glanced to a lingerie boutique across the street. “She’s in there.”

Oh.

His mom was here from Australia. “Did she come for Christmas?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Sort of. I haven’t been, ah, doing so well with the sex tape scandal, and then you leaving me, so she came into town for a visit.”

Todd’s eyebrows shot up and he cleared his throat loudly. Both Ben and I continued to ignore him.

“I can’t live that way. Seeing you splashed all over the tabloids like that nearly destroyed me.”

“I know. And I wish I could take that back. But I did that before I met you. It was years ago. I can’t help what’s in the past, only what’s in the present. Only what I do now. That’s all we can control. And you’re here with another man.”

I swallowed roughly, unsure of what to say.

It didn’t occur to me right away that the woman who appeared at Ben’s side was his mother. She looked far too young to have a twenty-three-year-old son, but as soon as my eyes fell on her I recognized Dakota Shaw. She was tall and fit and very pretty, with waves of sandy blonde hair cascading over her shoulders.

My brain cataloged the few similarities between them. They each had thick, dark eyelashes, wide-set eyes, and full mouths. A gorgeous family, to be sure.

“Well, this must be the girl who stole my baby’s heart.”

“Mom,” Ben warned, his voice low.

She sighed and opened her arms. “Okay, I’ll play nice. I’m Dakota, Ben’s mom. Come here, then.”

I returned her hug, my head spinning with what she must think. Did she know about her darling son’s sex tape?

Ben took the collection of shopping bags from her arms, ever the good, doting son. This was a totally new side of him and it was fascinating to watch.

“Can I take you for a drink?” Ben asked, gazing at me steadily. “I’m not ready to let you disappear yet.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Oh, honey, it’s one drink. Your friend can even come.” Dakota motioned to Todd.

“Actually, this is too weird for me,” Todd spoke up. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to bail. Can you get a ride home?”

Gee thanks. I scowled at my date. The jackass was going to turn tail and run.

“Henry will take you anywhere you’d like to go,” Ben said.

I nodded to Todd, too numb to argue right now.

Soon we were seated at an elegant bar on the Upper East Side. I sat in between Ben and his mom. Dakota ordered a mineral water with a slice of lemon. I was guessing she was still maintaining her sobriety. Immediately falling back into old habits, I allowed Ben to order me a glass of wine. A deliciously light glass of Pinot Grigio.

“Have you eaten?” he asked, keeping his eyes on mine. I shook my head. I’d expected to have lunch with Todd, but that hadn’t happened. “A couple of menus, please,” Ben said to the bartender.

We ordered lunch and nibbled on grilled tuna and spring salad while making small talk. Ben’s mom was actually lovely and sweet. I didn’t know what I’d been expecting, but maybe age had calmed her. It was obvious that she loved her son deeply. Even if she hadn’t been the most maternal parent while he was growing up. She fussed over him, offering him food from her plate and chastising him for not eating enough. It was sweet.

“That ring would’ve looked beautiful on her.” Dakota shook her head, looking at my naked ring finger. “It’s a shame.”

Ring? My heart tripped in my chest. Ben hadn’t gotten me a ring . . . couldn’t have? Could he?

His jaw tensed and he briefly shook his head in an attempt to silence his mother. Rather than make eye contact with me, his gaze was cast downward into his glass of scotch. Frown lines creased his forehead as he swirled the amber-colored liquor, looking deep in thought.

I wanted to say something, to ask what she meant, but of course I couldn’t. The words dried up in my throat and I had to swallow a gulp of my wine to get my windpipe working again. I tried to take stock of how I even felt about this. It was what I’d wanted all along—a commitment from Ben. Just him and I. Knowing that he had considered proposing—making it official—made my heart palpitate unevenly. After everything we’d been through—Fiona’s desperate attempts at winning him over and his sex-tape scandal, I didn’t know if too much trust had been broken. But my heart didn’t think so. Whether or not I wanted to, I still loved him deeply. I knew a part of me always would. But forgiving him, moving past this . . . that would take time. And, honestly, I couldn’t see myself being that forgiving anytime soon.

Ben’s posture told me the conversation was done but when he waved to the bartender, signaling for the check, I knew things were final. I got up and excused myself for the bathroom. I needed a moment to gather my thoughts before facing him. My pink cheeks and splotchy chest were a dead giveaway of the emotions raging inside me. Half of me wanted to slap him; the other half wanted to throw myself into his arms and never let him go. It was still a question of which half would win.