Smart, Sexy and Secretive (11 page)

I heave a sigh. “I plan to change your
mind, sir.”

He shakes his head. “Nothing will
change my mind. I knew Emily’s future the moment I found out she
would never be able to read.” He shoves to his feet. “No worries.
We’ll hire nannies who can read to her children. Maybe they won’t
turn out like her.”

I hope to God that every one of her
children turns out exactly like her. She’s fucking
perfect.

“
I won’t stop trying.” I
need for him to know my intentions. “I intend to make myself worthy
of your daughter. I want to be sure you’re aware of my thoughts on
the matter, sir.”

He looks down at his watch. “Go and get
dressed. I won’t let you make us late.”

I get to my feet. I can’t bite it back
any longer. “Sir, with all due respect, you’re a fucking idiot if
you think Emily’s stupid or incapable of learning. She’s brilliant.
She’ll have brilliant children and do brilliant things. And she’ll
do them married to me.” His eyes cloud with anger. I have pushed
too far, and I don’t care. “I would be honored to have her as my
wife, exactly as she is.”

“
That’s because you have no
drive,” he says with a laugh. I’m glad I can’t hear it, because I
imagine it like nails on a chalkboard. “That’s what you learn when
you come from nothing. You have no expectations.”

I turn and walk toward Emily’s room, my
heart beating so hard I’m afraid it’s going to thump out of my
chest. I knock on the door, and Emily opens it. My breath catches.
She’s wearing an ivory dress that hugs all of her curves, some
clunky jewelry that is probably real and costs a fucking fortune,
and she now comes up to my chin in her five-inch heels.

Her eyes narrow. “Are you all right?”
she asks. She looks over my shoulder toward where her father is
sitting. Trip comes out of his room, and he’s dressed for the
party, wearing a nice suit and black shoes. He has on a tie. Mr.
Madison actually looks happy to see him. Me, on the other hand… I
may as well be gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe.

“
I’m fine. Your father is
afraid we’ll be late.” I step into the room and let her mother
sweep me into a dressing frenzy. I try to put Mr. Madison’s
comments out of my mind because I’m nauseated every time I think
about Emily growing up with that man as her example. This is what
she knew. It’s no fucking wonder she left.

I decide then and there that I will
change her life. And I will do it simply by loving her exactly as
she is. It’s not as though I could keep from doing that
anyway.

I close the door behind me, leaving her
with her father and her ex-boyfriend. Her mom glares at me from
across the room, tapping her toe on the oak floor. “What did he
do?” she asks.

“
Who?” I ask. I know whom
she’s referring to, but my problem is with Mr. Madison, not Mrs.
Madison.

“
You know who.” Her foot
starts moving faster. “He makes me so angry sometimes.” She picks
up a shirt and holds it against my chest. “Not that one,” she says
absently. She replaces it with another. And another. “She is such a
smart girl, and he doesn’t give her any credit at all.” Her eyes
fill with tears, and my heart lurches. This woman knows who and
what her daughter is. She knows.

“
Why do you let him treat
her like that?” I ask.

“
Oh, he’s really good to her
when she’s in his presence. So she has no idea how much he worries
about her or how much planning he does to be sure she has what she
needs.”

What the fuck? That’s what this woman
thinks he does? He belittles their daughter to anyone who will
listen, and he just told me Emily is stupid, directly to my face.
“Rose-colored glasses,” I mutter.

“
Beg your pardon?” she says,
looking up from the stack of clothing. She draws her lower lip
between her teeth and worries it. It reminds me so much of
Emily.

“
Nothing,” I say. “Is this
the one?” I take the shirt from her when she nods. “How much do I
owe you for all of this?” I ask. I won’t be beholden to that
man.

She looks like I told her I killed her
cat. “Owe me?”

“
For the
clothes?”

“
Oh, these are all Madison
Avenue,” she says. “They’re part of a new line of clothing. Emily
is wearing them, too. There will be a lot of models ambling about
today. You’re really doing us a huge favor by going and wearing the
clothes. They’re made for a younger, hipper audience than anything
we’ve ever done before. We’re not sure how it’ll take off.” She
smiles at me and runs a hand across my cheek. She points to the
bed. “Trousers, socks, shoes, and two layers of shirts.” She grins.
“If that’s okay with you, of course.”

“
It’s fine,” I
say.

“
Thank you,” she says,
looking into my eyes.

“
I haven’t done anything
yet.” I smile at her because her eyes are filling with tears and I
don’t want her to cry.

“
You have done more than you
will ever know.” She sniffs and leaves the room.

I fall back on the bed, rubbing my face
with my palms. What the fuck am I going to do about Emily’s father?
I’m going into war with no weapons in my arsenal.

Emily

Something is wrong. I don’t know what
happened while I was getting dressed but something is definitely
wrong. Logan looks like he’s biting the inside of his cheek, and my
dad looks smug and arrogant. Of course, that’s how my dad usually
looks, but now it’s amplified. Logan closes the bedroom door behind
me, and my mom is in there with him.

“
Dad,” I say. “Is Logan all
right?”

My dad shrugs, looking down at his
Blackberry. He doesn’t look up. “How should I know?”

“
Weren’t you just talking to
him?” I jerk my thumb toward the closed bedroom door. “He looked
irritated when he went in my room.”

Dad smirks. “I thought that was his
general disposition.”

“
Logan’s a nice guy, Dad,” I
rush to say. I don’t know why I care but I do. I care about what he
thinks. I want to please him. I just think it’s
impossible.

Trip motions for me to follow him into
the kitchen. I don’t want to spend any time with Trip. But he gets
up, and I feel compelled to follow him.

When I get to the kitchen, he’s leaning
against the counter with his arms crossed in front of his chest.
“Just how much do you know about Logan?” he asks.

“
I know everything I need to
know.” I don’t need to explain our relationship to Trip, of all
people.

“
He and I had a talk while
you were getting ready.” His eyes narrow. “Do you want to know what
he had to say to me?”

“
Not really.” I hold up a
hand when he starts to talk. “Why are you doing this,
Trip?”

He reaches for my elbow and jerk out of
his reach. “Em,” he says.

“
Don’t touch me again,
Trip,” I warn.

Trip’s voice gets soft. “We were good
together, Em, once upon a time.”

“
No, we weren’t. We were
terrible.”

His face falls. “Not until the end. We
were fine until that night.”

I remember that night like it was
yesterday, and it still hurts just as much now as it did
then.

“
Do I get a pass for being
drunk when I said it? Can’t you forgive me?” He twists a strand of
my hair around his finger and tugs it playfully. I brush my hair
back over my shoulder.

We had our rehearsal dinner and all of
our friends were there:

“
Em, do you know what you
want?” he asks, dropping an arm around my shoulders. He looks down
at me, and I can see by his dilated pupils that he’s hit something
a little stronger than champagne. I hate it when he’s high, but I
have to tolerate him. I’m going to marry him tomorrow.

I look up at the waitress,
who has her pen waiting to write down my order. “What do you
recommend?” I ask. It’s the safest way to get away with not reading
the menu.

“
Just pick something,
baby,” Trip urges. He flips the menu open and I try to read it, but
the letters blur in front of my face. I get tongue-tied because
she’s waiting and he’s waiting and they’re all waiting.

I look to Trip’s sister.
“What did you get?”

“
I haven’t ordered yet,”
she says. She peruses the menu for another moment and calls out her
order.

I close my menu. “I’ll have
the same.”

Trip flips my menu back
open. “Order whatever you want, sweetheart. Come on, you can do
it.”

I shove his arm from around
my shoulders. “I just gave her my order, Trip. Why don’t you give
her yours?” I smile at him and pat the side of his face. His eyes
are red-rimmed and not completely focused.

“
Just read the fucking
menu, Em. It’s not rocket science.” He laughs and snorts, and his
buddies laugh, too. They don’t know about my dyslexia, that reading
is hard for me. But he knows.

His sister says, “She
already ordered, Trip. Leave her alone.”

He points to the menu. “But
she should order what she wants. Not what everyone else wants.” He
looks down at me. “Don’t be stupid, Em. Read the fucking
menu.”

Tears sting the backs of my
lashes. “Let me up, Trip,” I say, motioning for him to
move.

“
Why?”

“
Because I need to get up.”
My voice cracks, and I hate that it does. “Move!” I shove him, and
he gets up, stumbling back.

“
Em, you’re being
ridiculous,” he says. But it’s finally clear to him that he’s said
enough.

I start to tick items off
on my fingers. “First, I was stupid. Now I’m ridiculous. Do you
want to keep going?” I put my hands on my hips and glare at
him.

“
Em,” he says. He shakes
his head. “Whatever you ordered is fine.” He points to the chair.
“I was just trying to help.”

I’m shaking, and I can’t
stop. This isn’t the first time this has happened. But it’s the
first time he’s done it in front of other people. I turn to walk
out.

“
Where are you going?” he
calls to my retreating back.

“
I’m leaving.”

He sits down. I can still
hear him, though. “She’ll be back in a minute. Sorry, folks. Must
be some pre-wedding jitters.”

Pre-wedding jitters my ass.

“
Penny for your thoughts,”
he says playfully.

“
I was thinking about that
night in the restaurant, the night before the wedding,” I
admit.

“
The night I fucked it all
up.” He reaches for me and I sidestep.

“
Don’t touch me,” I
say.

“
Fine,” he bites out. “Just
talk to me. We never did talk about that night. We never talked
about why you left. Is this about you not being able to learn?” He
tries to look like he cares, but I still don’t think he cares about
me at all.

“
I
can
learn.” I point a finger at my
chest. “I am
smart
.”

“
I know you’re smart. I’m
sorry I ever said otherwise. I know how smart you are.”

I turn away from him. “You called me
stupid. You did it in front of your friends.”

“
I was drunk!” he says. He
looks over his shoulder and calms himself. “Either way, don’t I get
a pass for choosing the wrong word?”

“
Do I get a pass for being
dyslexic?” I ask.

“
I put up with your dyslexia
for a long time, Em,” he says.

“
You
put up with
my dyslexia?” I can’t
believe he just said that.

“
You can’t even read a
fucking menu, Em. It can get a little frustrating at times.” He
smiles at me. But it’s one of those smiles that don’t reach his
eyes.

“
How do you think it feels
being me, Trip? I’m the one who can’t read.”

“
You won’t even try!” He
points to his chest. “I was there that night too. You wouldn’t even
look at the menu. You could have at least tried. That’s all I
wanted you to do.”

“
Logan never makes me look
at the menu,” I shoot back. It’s terrible to use Logan as an
example, but he is
the
example for all men. He’s what they all should be. He’s kind
and considerate and smart as hell and talented. And he loves
me.

“
Logan probably can’t read
one either.”

I gasp. “How dare you?”

“
He’s deaf, Emily,” he
grinds out. “How much lower can you go?” He shakes his head. “Or is
that what you were going for? Someone more on your
level?”

What is that supposed to mean? “Logan
is everything that you will never, ever be.”

“
Well, I hope I’m never
deaf, all tattooed up, and poor.” He blows a breath out through his
nose.

“
I’m done with this
conversation.”

He glares at me.
“Apparently.”

“
Find a place to live, Trip.
And do it soon.”