Razorblade Kisses(81)
Later that day, she stood in her backyard and rubbed her hands over her face. The cold stung her hands in a good way. Her phone rang and she knew exactly who it was without looking.
“Hey,” she answered, walking the edge of the yard.
“Hey, bitch,” Rachel’s voice was high and enthusiastic.
“Hey,” Emery repeated.
“So what’s happenin’, hot stuff?”
Emery smiled at the ‘80s movie reference. “So I ended up getting tricked into a date last night.”
“Oh, you did?” Rachel’s voice took on a sing-song tone.
“I did.”
“With whom?”
“The guy from the dance club, the cop.”
“Oh shit,” Rachel whispered.
“Pretty much.”
“And…”
“I’ve just been so lonely,” she commented.
“Oh, Em, I’m so sorry.”
“No, Rachel I let myself go last night with him. It was pure perfection…six times.”
“SIX??!!”
“Yes, I can’t even tell you how I’m standing right now. We only got about an hour of sleep, but it was so worth it. Then he took me to Goose feathers this morning for breakfast and coffee.”
Silence.
“I know this is bad,” Emery said as she made her way to the front of her duplex and walked up the stairs. She realized that she felt something with him she hadn’t felt with anyone, not even Noah or Rachel. It was a sense of peace without her even having to try, a familiar feeling of safety with him for no reason. She didn’t even know him but felt a warm, tingling sensation whenever she thought of him.
“No,” Rachel said quickly, “it’s fine, you needed it. I’m sorry you’re so lonely, Em. If I could, I’d be there every weekend…”
“He kissed my scars,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
“What?”
“He kissed my scars, Rach. On my arm. Every single one of them. He never asked me a word about it, just kissed each one. Then he wiped away my tears and held all my pieces together.”
They were both quiet as they contemplated what she’d just said.
“Em. Are you okay?”
“I think so…”
“Is he going to hurt you?”
“Probably.”
“Are you going to see him again?”
“I don’t know how I can.”
“Of course you can,” Rachel huffed.
“How? How can I see him again when I feel like he could be my future, but I know I don’t have one?”
“But you do have a future…”
“Cut the shit, Rachel, you know what I mean. I can’t…I don’t have a future. You’re my family, you and Derrick. I can’t really do this again. I shattered after leaving Ashley, then again when I left Noah, and this guy…” Emery closed her eyes and ran her hand through her hair. “I think he’ll ruin me.”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Bewitched
Although she was exhausted after her night with Tim, Emery was restless and couldn’t sleep, so she kept herself busy. She had walked down to River Street earlier, her favorite place to people watch. Sundays were the perfect day to do it. There were lots of people who were hungover, plus the after church crowd, and then tourists going from store to store looking for that perfect souvenir.
The street was cobblestone and full of bars, shops, and restaurants. She grabbed a coffee and bought a bag of pralines. As soon as she sat down on the bench that overlooked the street, an involuntary moan slipped through her lips. Emery liked to watch them make, then cook, the sweet treats in the store—the smell alone could quench her sweet tooth—but she rarely bought any. She popped another piece of the praline in her mouth, the sugary goodness melting around the pecan.
When she didn’t want to think about her life, she would watch people and pick out certain individuals, the ones that looked happy, and make up her own stories for them. She would create an entire story about each person’s expression. It could be that they’d just heard news about a new job, they’d just had the best sex of their lives, or they’d just gotten engaged.
Her phone dinged just as she picked the perfect person for her game. The man’s face was frozen in a lopsided grin, and Emery was pretty sure it was due to the woman slightly trailing him with her hand supporting her lower back. The woman was his wife, of course, and she was pregnant with their first child. The man spent every night rubbing her feet and talking to her belly bump. It sounded perfect, something that would never happen for her. She sighed and looked at the text.
You have bewitched me, Emma. I’m having a hard time (get it? HARD) focusing on work when I just want to be inside you again.