And soon, after we talked, we’d take care of the emotional stuff. We’d take care of whatever was happening to her and it would be all right. She’d be back with me and we’d face it together, just as we should have done all along.
I wrapped a towel around my hips and left the bathroom while toweling my hair dry. To my surprise, Emilia was standing beside the bed bent over her bag. She’d pulled practically everything out of it—much as I had done last night. And she was clearly looking for something. I took a deep breath and my stomach dropped. Likely she was looking for one of the prefilled syringes sitting on my desk in front of my computer.
Well, she’d wanted to talk. So here was our chance.
“Did you go through my bag?” she said without looking up.
I hesitated and her fiery gaze met mine. I took a deep breath. “Yes.”
She shook her head. “You are
unbelievable
,” she said between gritted teeth.
“I’m worried about you. I saw the bruises on your arms and your stomach.”
She paled. “You pulled off my shirt?”
“I saw the bruises on your arms—and the puncture marks. I know damn well what they were so I looked to see if there were bruises on your stomach. And they were everywhere.”
She blinked a few times and then returned to her bag, hastily stuffing everything back inside.
“I want those syringes, goddamn it. The empty ones, too. They’re a biohazard.”
I almost laughed at the irony. Only a would-be doctor would be abusing and simultaneously worry about something like that.
“Emilia, you have a problem. We need to talk about it.”
“No.
You
have a fucking problem. You just can’t back. The. Fuck. Off.” With that she pulled the bag closed with a loud zip, tears spilling onto her cheeks.
“I’m worried about you.”
She gave her eyes an angry swipe. “So you say.”
“I’m not lying. But this isn’t about me, this is about you. You’re using.”
“No. I am not abusing drugs. Now take me home.
Now
.”
I folded my arms over my chest. “We need to talk.”
She shook her head. “I’m
done
talking. You and I are
done
. You will never trust me and I will
never
trust you.” Her voice cut off in a sob.
“Emilia—”
“No! Take me home, Adam.”
I didn’t move and I didn’t say a word.
Muttering under her breath, she slung her bag over her shoulder and stalked down the stairs and toward the front door.
I followed closely behind. “What are you doing?”
“I’m walking.”
“That’s fifteen miles.”
“I need the exercise.”
“Emilia, stop.”
She kept walking.
“I’ll drive you,” I finally conceded. We strode next to each other across the island. It was a beautiful morning, the sun shining, a cool breeze blowing. I inhaled the pervasive, earthy scent of the Back Bay and the freshly mowed green grass, my mind racing for what to say to her. I followed her to the parking garage, the fresh outdoor scents replaced by the smell of exhaust and old oil. I swallowed, throwing a look her way. Had I completely blown this? Would she turn away my help now, if I offered it? I couldn’t force it on her.
But, there was nothing to say. She bent over her phone texting furiously the entire time. I surmised she was catching Heath up on everything. When we pulled up into her parking lot, Heath was waiting, his arms clamped over his chest like a bouncer preparing for a brawl. Emilia was out of the car almost before it stopped and Heath came up to stand in front of me while she made her getaway.
“Emilia—” I said.
She turned to me, her eyes red. “Goodbye, Adam.” And she rushed off toward the condo.
I turned to Heath, who was looking at me with pity in his face. It made me angry. I clenched my fists. “Let me go to her.”
“She doesn’t want to talk.”
“I fucked up, okay?”
“Yep.
Again
.” He nodded.
“I think she’s abusing drugs,” I blurted. As if that knowledge would get me a pass with him.
Heath’s brow shot up. “Why do you think that?”
“Because there are signs—the change in appearance, the behavior. I found syringes…”
Heath shook his head. “Because you went through her bag.”
I swore, ran a hand through my hair and looked away. “I saw the puncture marks on her arm! What the fuck else was I supposed to do?”
“She’s not abusing drugs. Okay? Trust me. This is not what it’s about.”
“Then what the fuck
is
it about?”
His gaze was icy. “It’s not for me to tell you. She was going to talk to you today, but you blew it. She doesn’t trust you, any more than you trust her. You keep fucking it up.”
I blew out a breath in frustration. “Tell me what I need to do. I need to make this up to her.”
“Back off. Stay away from her for a while. If you pull your head out of your ass, she will come to you.”
I clenched my fist again, anger coursing through me. I wanted to take a swing at him. “You said that before.”
“And she did, didn’t she? She came to you, but you fucked it up, man.”
It was hard to hear. Hard to accept, but he was right. “Fine. But you promise me—”
“I’ll take care of her. I
have
been taking care of her.”
I shook my head. “You’ve been doing
my
job.”
He looked bitter. “Yeah. I
have.”
We stared each other down for a long moment.
I looked down, shaking my head. I’d betrayed her trust again. It didn’t help to explain that I’d done it in a moment of utter panic. That I couldn’t get Bree out of my mind. I took a deep, painful breath. “I’m a fucking idiot.”
True sympathy crossed Heath’s features. He clamped a hand on my shoulder. “I have confidence that you’ll learn. But you need to leave her be for now.”
I hated what he had to say and I wasn’t so sure he was right. That look of betrayal in her eyes as she’d turned away. The way she’d told me “good-bye” had sounded so final. Fuck.
With a stiff jerk I got back in my car and pulled out of the parking lot, speeding my way back to Newport Beach.
Chapter Eighteen
We both opted to stay away for Thanksgiving the following weekend, which avoided that inevitable awkwardness. Both Peter and Kim were very vocal in their disappointment. Peter called me and laid it down that under no circumstances would this occur at Christmas.
“I can’t promise you anything, Peter.”
“We’re your family, Adam. Your
only
family.”
I sighed. “I only know what
I
can do. I’m not sure what she’s going to decide is her limit.”
“It’s only fair to tell you that Kim and I are getting serious. I know that’s not the greatest news for you two right now.”
“It’s not. But we’re grown-ups. We’ll deal.”
Peter sighed. “Kim is very worried about Mia.”
She wasn’t the only one. “Tell her she needs to talk to Heath, then. Because I don’t know shit.”
***
December started with summerlike weather in Southern California while the rest of the country was submerged in a deep freeze. I was informed that a settlement was imminent and that as part of the agreement, I was required to meet personally with the family of the young man who had perpetrated the crimes.
I was not at all happy about this new development and Jordan had to coax, plead and cajole me into it.
“Man, I’ll be right there with you. We’ll do it together.”
My hands worked at my sides, fisting and relaxing. “Do I have a fucking choice? At all?”
“We can see if Joseph can work with the insurance guys to get that taken out, but… If the family senses that you are belligerent in any way, they could dig their heels in, maybe even see it as a way to get more money. Then the insurance company will really be riding our asses.”
I took a deep breath and blew it out. “I have no idea what to say to these people. This means I’m going to be sitting in a conference room for a half hour listening to them tell me why I am the spawn of the devil who destroyed their innocent kid.”
“Adam…
you
know that shit isn’t true.
I
know that shit isn’t true. Sometimes in life we just have to…take our lumps, you know?”
I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes, completely miserable. It really grated, this having to be complicit with the assumption that I was guilty of dealing out an addictive substance, like virtual crack. It was
personal
to me, goddamn it.
And on top of that, I still couldn’t get the thought of Emilia out of my head. It had been over a week since I’d seen her and now these new developments were going to take me out of state for almost three weeks. I had business in Chicago that had been scheduled for months now. Then this trip to New York City for the insurance settlement paperwork and the meeting with the family. And then it was on to Washington, DC, where I had been subpoenaed to appear at a congressional hearing on the addictive effects of online video games.
Coming down from the high of DracoCon and of being with Emilia for that short, mostly happy twenty-four hours, I felt like I’d crashed and burned.
Since I was due on an early flight out the next morning, I chose to text Emilia regarding the Christmas question. It was very possible that I wouldn’t make it back in time to celebrate with my family, but if I did, there’d be no time to work out a truce with her that would satisfy my uncle and Kim’s desire to celebrate together. Like I’d promised him, we’d work it out like adults.
I texted her and asked her to meet me after work at a nearby café. She took a half hour to respond.
What is this regarding?
Fuck. Really? We were going to be like this?
It’s regarding what we are going to do about Xmas. I’m sure your mom has been in touch about it.
I waited another ten minutes and was in the middle of typing a long, boring e-mail when my phone chimed.
I’ll meet you at Carlos Café at six.
She was there, sitting in a booth in the back corner when I arrived. I walked down the aisle and she looked up from her phone and watched me. There was no smile on her face.
And she looked like shit. I hadn’t seen her in over a week and she looked…different. For starters, she was dressed curiously, in a long-sleeved jumper type of dress, with tights on her legs. She looked like a schoolgirl with that still-ridiculous white hair and her dark eyebrows and wide brown eyes. She was pale and she had dark circles under those eyes.
In spite of everything, though, when I laid eyes on her, everything seemed to lighten—in my own mind anyway. I hadn’t realized how much I’d looked forward to seeing her again and how much I missed her, because I hadn’t allowed myself to dwell on it. I’d been burying myself in work.
“Hi,” I said, taking a menu and glancing over it.
“Hey,” she said quietly, setting her phone aside and looking up at me.
“How’s it going?”
She shrugged. I waited. That was, apparently, the only answer I was going to get.
The waitress came and I ordered my favorite—the two-taco carne asada plate. Emilia ordered a lemon-lime soda.
“You aren’t hungry?” I asked
She seemed to pale even more at the mention of food. “Not really.”
I clenched my jaw and released it, frowning. At that moment, a stab of pain went directly through my left eye. I pressed my finger to my brow just above it, tried to power through, ignore it.
She studied me. “You okay?”
“I’m fine. Why aren’t you eating?”
She shrugged again. “I just don’t feel like eating.”
When the waitress came back with our drinks, I ordered a bowl of soup for Emilia. She scowled, but didn’t object.
“So…what did you want to talk about?”
“I told you in the text. I promised Peter that we’d talk about Christmas. You and I are going to have to find a way to get along on Christmas because they’ve already told us both that they want to spend it together, and regardless of how either of us feels about it, I’m not going to avoid spending the holidays with my family because of you.”
She rolled her eyes. “I could just not go. That will make it easy.”
I stiffened. “I’m also not going to take a giant ration of shit from your mom or Liam because I’m the one to blame for you not being there.”
She poked her straw into her soda a few times and shrugged. “Christmas isn’t for over three weeks. Why talk about this now?”
“Because I’ll be gone for a while and I’m going to have to fight to make it back in time.”
Her hand froze. “Gone? Like…where?”
I rubbed my forehead again. The headache was starting to tighten in my temples. “Back East. Lawsuit stuff…”
“And the congressional hearing? They’re going through with that? I thought those were just blog rumors.”
I blew out a long breath. “Nope, apparently not. Someone got a good scoop. Sorry it wasn’t you.”
She pursed her lips in thought. “I don’t give a fuck about a scoop. You’ll…you’ll be okay?”
I stared at her for a long, silent moment and nodded. “I’ll live. What about you? Apparently you’ve stopped eating…”
Her eyes avoided mine. I looked around and slipped her a padded envelope. She looked at me with a question in her eyes.
“It’s the medicine you left at my house. I had the empty syringes disposed of properly.”
Without a word she tucked the envelope into her backpack. And she sat quietly, fidgeting. This was my gesture—to show her that I trusted her. To show her that I trusted when she told me she wasn’t abusing drugs. It had taken me long hours of deliberating to decide what to do. In the end, I handed them back to her with a cold fear at the back of my throat, giving up what little control I had to prove something to her.
“Are you—do you want to talk?” I said, clearing my throat.
She looked up into my eyes and I felt a stab of something. That painful jab of constantly missing her. She watched me with wide eyes for a long moment, then shook her head.
“Emilia…” I reached my hand across the table and covered one of hers with it. It felt soft, cool to my touch. “If you need anything. Any help. You know you can come to me, right?”