At any rate, I can tell something is off. Emory had this vibe when she came back inside that I can’t quite put my finger on. She put on a good front and the last five minutes of charades she was laughing and teasing and acting silly like we all had before.
But her face was a little pinched and her shoulders were stiff. She clasped her hands in her lap so tightly sometimes that her knuckles went white.
While Emory went back with Jenna and Felicity to kiss her daughter goodnight, I picked up the charades cards and put them back in the box, then took the empty drink glasses into the kitchen where I placed them in the sink.
By the time I made it back to the couch, Emory was walking into the living room. I remained standing, ready for her to bid me good night, and more than ready to sit back down if she wanted to hang out for a bit.
She ended up making a sweeping motion toward the couch with her hand, indicating for me to sit down. I did but she didn’t follow. Instead, she stood on the other side of the coffee table, worrying at her lower lip with her teeth.
“What’s wrong?” I ask her.
She looks pained, as if she needs to share something abhorrent with me. “Remember when I told you I didn’t want complications in my life?”
“Yeah,” I drawl slowly, wondering if I’ve somehow become complicated because I stayed for family charades.
“Well, a past complication has caught up with me,” she mutters, pressing her fingers to the bridge of her nose.
It’s pure intuition and nothing else driving my guess. “Your ex-husband?”
Her eyes flare wide that I nailed it, but she pushes the surprise aside and nods. “That was him at the door. Shane.”
She didn’t invite him inside and I have no clue if that’s because things were left bad between them or because she had her new guy she’s dating inside. Before I can hazard why, she starts pacing and growls. “It’s been two years since I’ve heard from that bastard. And now he wants to come waltzing back into Felicity’s life like nothing happened. It’s ridiculous. She’s worked hard to get over the pain of him disappearing, and now he’s going to cause her so much turmoil. And he just expects me to be okay with this. I mean… how selfish is that?”
Emory ends that last statement by stopping in her tracks and turning to face me. I have no answer for her as I’m lost.
Utterly lost.
She must be able to read that on my face because she sighs, her face tense with apology. “I’m sorry. You have no clue what I’m talking about.”
I pat the cushion beside me. “How about you stop pacing and come tell me all about it?”
Emory sighs again but looks relieved at my offer. She rounds the coffee table and sits on the cushion next to me, except she curls her legs in and turns her body so that her knees are on my thigh. It puts us close together which I sense she needs, but I keep my hands to myself. I don’t want to distract her from telling the full story.
Eyebrows knitting inward, she holds her breath and asks, “Are you sure you really want to hear all this? I mean… you wanted uncomplicated too.”
That was true once upon a time, but not now. “Remember… I’m invested now, same as you. So spill.”
The air in her lungs rushes out in an exhale of relief and she gives me a weak smile. “Let me just start at the beginning. I met Shane during my junior year at UCLA. He was one of my professors and was ten years older than me. We had an illicit affair—illicit in that professors were forbidden from dating students—but it ended up getting really serious. He proposed during my senior year and we were married four months later. It was all very secretive and only our immediate family knew. We knew we could go public after I graduated.”
I think I do a good job of keeping my features bland, but I’m shocked as hell Emory had an affair with an older man who happened to be one of her professors.
“I got pregnant right before graduation and Felicity was born. For a few years, we had a great life. Shane continued to teach at UCLA and I got a job in digital marketing there. Nothing fancy, but it was a good foot-in-the-door kind of thing. And all was well.”
“Until it wasn’t,” I guess.
Emory shakes her head, her eyes filled with pain and sorrow. “Shane got injured while skiing. It was bad and he broke two of the vertebrae in his back. He wasn’t paralyzed but it was serious enough it took almost half a year of serious rehab to get him fully functioning again, except I didn’t realize what was keeping him functioning was the pain pills he’d been prescribed.”