Which was easier said than done. Hunter’s irritated curse rang in her ears as she went against the tide, black suits and bow-ties blurring like a hypnotic wheel as she stumbled towards the ladies’ and sat, undignified in a thousand-dollar gown, on the loo seat lid with her head down between her knees, the stifling heat replaced now with an icy chill, a cold sweat drenching her.
‘Please, please, stop,’ Lily demanded of the universe, knowing that Hunter was outside, knowing how huge this moment was for Emma, for him. Desperate not to spoil it, she licked her dry lips in relief as slowly everything came back into focus, her heart rate slowing down, the blood that had drained out of her face making a slow but steady return till finally, gingerly, she sat up.
It was the rich food, Lily told herself, running her wrists under the tap and rinsing her mouth before reapplying her lipstick—the endless late nights and even more frequent early morning awakenings, courtesy of Hunter’s almost permanent erection.
She even managed a small grin in the mirror before heading back out to face him and no doubt another sarcastic barb, but, surprisingly he didn’t say anything, just took her arm and this time led them to their seats without incident, his body absolutely rigid beside her. Shooting a glance at him just before the lights dimmed, Lily saw his taut features, the grim set of his jaw and knew he was terrified for Emma, knew somehow that his vileness tonight was more about him than her.
‘She’ll be OK,’ Lily offered softly, putting a hand over his tense one and, whether he wanted it or not, holding it.
‘Will she?’
Even in the darkness she could see the anguish in his eyes as he turned to her for a moment and Lily could have wept for him. She knew somehow that the guilt he so vehemently denied was sitting right there between them.
‘She’ll be great!’
Oh, and she was.
For the first part of the performance they sat on tenterhooks, waiting for her solo, the exquisite music far from soothing because Emma had to match it—better it even—and when finally it was her turn, as the lights dimmed for a moment, as Emma took her place on the stage, Lily felt Hunter’s hand tighten around hers and could have sworn they both stopped breathing, knowing Emma was moving out of her wheelchair. Every muscle in Hunter was taut until finally the clearest, purest of notes filled the packed theatre, Emma, exquisite at centre stage. Her jet hair streamed down her slender shoulders, her black ballgown merging into the elegant chair, but it wasn’t the absence of the wheelchair that rendered her disability to diminishable proportions. It was Emma herself—her talent, her elegance, her sheer presence that had the entire audience captivated till the last note died away, applause thundering as they leapt to their feet in an impromptu standing ovation, only Hunter a step behind everyone, Hunter with an expression Lily couldn’t quite read on his face as he stared down to the stage and his sister. Lily would have given anything to know what he was thinking.
Anything to know what really moved this man.
Anything for him.
The rest of the show was agony—Hunter, bored now, just wanted it over to congratulate Emma, Lily shrinking into her chair, wishing the room would quiet for just a moment so she could counter the impossible thought that had occurred to her.
Love—true love—didn’t exist. Lily knew that, knew that, knew that. In the worst possible way she’d found out the truth, had been betrayed not just by her fiancé but by her father. The fact that true love was impossible was the single reason she was here, safe in the knowledge that it couldn’t last, playing the game for each other’s gain.
And yet…
The lights blazing on snapped her out of her introspection. Hunter was the first in the theatre standing, and Lily stared up, blushing and suddenly shy.
‘Come on!’ he growled, snapping his impatient fingers for her to follow him, and Lily was actually grateful for his arrogance, grateful for his pompous demeanour…glad that her moment of stupidity was over, because how, Lily questioned, following his wide shoulders as he rudely, without apology, bumped knees and trampled programmes in his haste to get out, could anyone love that?
‘You were great, Em!’ Backstage and completely ignoring Jim, who was holding Emma’s hand, Hunter gave his sister a congratulatory hug.
‘Just like old times, huh?’ Emma asked questioningly, and Lily felt a shiver run up her spine as she saw Hunter’s eyes flick to the wheelchair and back, saw the agony etched in his face as he attempted a terse nod.
‘Easily as good as before!’
‘Better,’ Emma said softly, her hand still coiled around Jim’s, her face glowing. ‘I’m playing better than before.’