The Marriage Pact Read online

  “I don’t know.” Mama rises, lifting her hands to her hips as she shakes her head. “If he didn’t care, why would he waste his time calling to check on you?”

  “Because he’s a complicated man who complicates everything he touches,” I say. “And I’m sure it bothers him that I won’t give him the time of day. He might have called off the wedding, but at the end of the day, I’m the one who left him. If he wants to win me back, it’s only because everything is a game to him and he can’t stand to lose.”

  “You know him better than I do, I suppose.”

  Exactly.

  Chapter 54

  Julian

  “She isn’t here,” I say to Harrison when I return to the car.

  Emelie’s townhouse is empty and dark, which is fitting.

  The curtained windows are pulled wide, but it’s clear that no one lives here anymore.

  We landed two hours ago and my driver took us straight to Emelie’s. I knew it was a shot in the dark, showing up unannounced and assuming she’d moved back, but it seemed like the best place to start.

  “Do you still have Delphine’s address?” I ask Harrison as we sit in an idling Town Car in Emelie’s driveway. “From when you sent the wedding invitations?”

  He’s thumbing through his phone, sorting through emails until he finds one and opens an attachment.

  “Ah, yes. 522 Hawthorne Court, Apartment 1A,” he says. He leans forward, repeating the address once more to my driver, who plugs it into his GPS and within seconds, we’re en route.

  I knock on Delphine’s door once, twice, then a third time, and I wait for endless minutes before I accept the fact that no one’s home and if they are, they’re refusing to come to the door.

  I’m prepared to camp out in her parking lot for as long as it takes.

  Delphine might resent me right now, but she’s the best shot I have at actually getting through to Emelie. She’s the gatekeeper. And at the end of the day, if I can show her how much I love her daughter and explain everything, she just might be the catalyst. Emelie has always valued her mother’s advice. If she won’t listen to me, maybe she’ll listen to her mother?

  I climb back into the Town Car.

  “What would you like to do now, sir?” Harrison asks.

  “We’re going to wait,” I say. “We’re going to wait until someone comes home.”

  Harrison, ever the faithful assistant, says nothing. He simply pulls out his phone and busies himself with work.

  I keep my vision trained on the apartment door, convinced that if I look away for more than a few seconds, I could miss something.

  We’ve been waiting for quite some time when a swift tap on the glass beside me gives my heart a hard start. Turning, I find none other than Emelie’s sister, Luci, standing next to my car.

  I step out and shut the door behind me.

  “What are you doing here?” she asks, arms folded.

  “Looking for Emelie …” I say, as if it isn’t obvious.

  “Maybe she doesn’t want to be found.”

  “Please, Luci. I need two minutes of her time, and then I’ll never bother her again if that’s what she wants.”

  “Don’t you think you’ve taken enough from her? What makes you think you deserve two minutes of her time?”

  “I don’t deserve anything,” I say. “I don’t even deserve her.”

  “Wow. We actually agree on something.”

  “Please, Luci. Where is she?” I ask. I’m not above begging when I’ve come this far.

  “Why should I tell you? So you can con her into doing another favor for you?”

  “What’s going on?” Isabeau appears from behind my car, an oversized gym bag slung over her left shoulder. “Whoa. Julian?”

  “I came to talk to Emelie. Do you know where I can find her?” I try Isabeau. Of the two sisters, she’s always been a little warmer to me.

  Luci turns to give her a look, and she shrugs.

  “He came all this way,” she says under her breath.

  Groaning, Luci throws her hands in the air and stomps toward the front door, jamming her key into the lock and disappearing inside.

  “Please … Isa …” I say.

  “Honestly, I don’t know where she is, but if I had to guess, I’d say she’s at the country house,” she says, referring to the home in Briar Cove where our families used to summer together. “Mom finally got an offer on the place, and she’s been going there a lot lately. I don’t even know what she does when she goes there. The place is pretty much cleared out. I think the new owners close on it in a couple of weeks. Anyway, if she’s not there, I don’t know where she is.”

  “Thank you, Isabeau,” I say. “Truly. Thank you.”

  “Julian?” she asks as I climb back into the car.

  “Yes?”

  “You hurt her again, I’ll—.”

  “I won’t.”

  Chapter 55

  Emelie

  I’m lying on my back in the middle of a treehouse that holds a million memories and feels much smaller than I remember. When I was a girl, I used to come out here when I needed quiet time or space or a chance to be alone with my thoughts.

  Staring at the opening through the top, at a starry sky that shines through ancient tree branches, I think about what my life is going to be like from here on out. I have no idea if my sudden notoriety is going to make it challenging to land a teaching job and if it does, I have no idea what I’ll do. I don’t have a back-up plan. I’ve wanted to be a teacher since first grade, when Mrs. Quick inspired me to follow in her footsteps.

  I think about what Julian said once, that I’m always so sure of myself, always known who and what I am.

  I don’t feel that way now.

  I feel like I’m free floating … and it’s terrifying.

  Slipping my hands behind my head, I think about the life I would have had. The fame and celebrity, the lifetime sacrifice of privacy, the platform to make a difference in people’s lives. It had its pros and cons, but had things not gone south the way they did, I think the pros would have outweighed the cons.

  I guess I’ll never know though.

  Closing my eyes for a moment, I try to imagine what it’s going to be like when Julian finally moves on. It’s only a matter of time before he lands some exotic beauty and candid snapshots of the two of them vacationing in Mykonos and yachting in the south of France plaster the insides of every glossy tabloid in the newsstands.

  When it was amazing with him, it was beyond amazing. But when it wasn’t, it was the worst feeling I’d ever known, like your heart dying a slow, painful death and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.

  It never fails.

  I can’t seem to go more than a few hours without Julian slipping into my thoughts in some capacity, though I’m trying. Good Lord, I’m trying. Mama said it’ll get easier with time, but that’s what I thought the last time and eight years later, my thoughts were still finding their way to him when I least wanted them to.

  I close my eyes and listen to the crickets and bull frogs, wishing I could bottle this moment and take it with me forever. Mama sold the house to a new family who plans to Airbnb it during the off-season.

  I suppose if I ever get too nostalgic, I can just stay here for a few days in the winter, but I know it won’t be the same.

  The crunch of gravel popping under tires interrupts the natural symphony around me, and the bright flash of Xenon headlights floods the dark. A second later, a car door opens and closes. I didn’t tell anyone I came out here tonight, but my car is parked in the driveway. It’s nine PM on a Monday night—no reason for the new owners to be stopping by to check anything out.

  I stay perfectly still and quiet in the treehouse, as if that could possibly prevent someone from finding me up here.

  Trying to peer through a break in the treehouse siding, I try and see if I recognize the car, but the headlights are too bright and everything that surrounds it is pitch black.

&nb
sp; The sound of footsteps against gravel comes next, and I hold my breath, bracing myself against the treehouse wall. Slow and steady, I reach into my back jeans pocket and slide my phone out, readying my thumb against the 9-1-1 slide.

  The treehouse shifts for a second.

  Or maybe I’m imagining it …

  And then it shifts again.

  Definitely not imagining it …

  By the time I realize I’ve backed myself into a corner—literally—a dark figure is making its way up the rope swing.

  I’m ninety-nine percent certain I’m going to meet my end tonight when I think to use the flashlight on my phone to blind the intruder. The second I spot the top of his head and his hands reaching in to pull himself up, I hit the button on my phone and shine the light in his eyes.

  “Julian?!” I put my phone away as he groans and pulls himself all the way in. “Oh my God. What are you doing here?”

  I suppose if it had to be Julian or a serial killer, Julian would be the way to go … but still. This is unexpected and I’m completely caught off guard. I don’t even know what to say to him right now or what to say to the teeny, tiny voice in my head that is thrilled that he’s here …

  “Emelie,” he says, rubbing his eyes for a second.

  “How did you know I was here?” After dinner tonight, I went for a drive and somehow I ended up here. That’s been happening a lot lately. Mama’s apartment complex is busy and noisy, and this is the only place I can find pure peace and solitude so I can be alone with my thoughts.

  “Isabeau told me I might find you here,” he says.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “What don’t you understand?”

  I sniff and cross my arms. “Why you would come here.”

  “Because there were a few things I didn’t have a chance to tell you before you … left.”

  “So this is about me leaving? I knew it. You called off the wedding, but you couldn’t stand the fact that I left,” I say. I’m defensive. I know. And I’m word-vomiting. But I can’t help it. It just keeps coming. I can’t stop it. “You just want to get the last word and you want to—”

  “Emelie, Emelie.” He lifts a hand. “Stop, please. Just let me speak.”

  He did come all this way. I suppose I can let the man talk.

  Hardening my resolve and setting every intention I have not to fall for his charms again, I say, “Fine. Say what you came to say.”

  “First,” he begins, “I just want to tell you how deeply sorry I am for hurting you. It was never my intention, ever. You’re my love, Emelie. My first love and my only love. I thought you would be my last, but … I made a mistake. I didn’t try hard enough to tell you before it was too late. I suppose deep down I was worried I’d lose you, that you’d see an opportunity out and you’d take it, and in the end I lost you anyway.”

  “If you came all this way just to apologize, a letter would have sufficed.”

  “Emelie, I know I hurt you. I know it pains you to look at me,” I say. “But you have to realize, that’s exactly why I called off the wedding. The way you looked at me that morning … I couldn’t stand there and exchange vows with you knowing how much you were hurting inside, knowing on the outside you were smiling but on the inside you were resenting me with every word. Emelie, I want to marry you, but I couldn’t marry you like that.”

  I think about that morning and the way my soul sank like a rock when he said he wanted to call off the wedding. I was so furious at him for withholding that information about his father and so hurt by his blatant and unexpected rejection, I couldn’t stand to wait around another minute for an explanation. I didn’t want him to see me cry. And I didn’t want to see him another second. So I ran. And I told my sisters not to let him anywhere near me while my mother packed my things and I cried into a satin pillow like a melodramatic princess with no shame.

  “That all sounds wonderful, Julian, but how could you possibly expect me to believe a word you say anymore?” I ask. “After everything? You looked me in the eyes once and promised me there would be no more secrets, and then you kept the biggest one to yourself until the morning of our wedding.”

  “I don’t expect you to believe me,” he says. “That’s why I’m here. In person. I could have sent a letter, sure, but a letter is easy. Flying across an ocean. Driving around looking for you? You realize I would never do that sort of thing for anyone but you. I came all this way because that’s how much you mean to me. You’re not just some girl. You’re the only girl. And you’re not just some girl I loved. You’re the only girl I’ve ever loved. And I still do. I still love you even if you don’t believe me.”

  I think about that summer eight years ago, the way his rejection felt like fire in my center and sucked all the air from my lungs. Julian calling off the wedding two weeks ago felt ten times worse than that moment.

  Peering across the small treehouse floor, I study the shine of his eyes in the dark and the outline of his broad shoulders. As much as I want to hate him right now, I can’t stop thinking about the way his mouth would feel on mine, the way his hands would feel in my hair, or how damn good it would feel to be in his arms one more time, not a care in the world.

  This is a lot to take in.

  My heart wants him.

  My head is screaming no.

  My body aches all over.

  The thick summer air suddenly feels suffocating, and my lungs struggle for air. Pushing past Julian, I make my way down the rope ladder until I reach the bottom of the tree, and I swallow as much oxygen as I can without hyperventilating.

  A second later, Julian joins me. “God, Em, are you all right?”

  “No,” I say without hesitation. “You just showing up … I wasn’t expecting it.”

  He smirks. “That’s right. You hate surprises.”

  “And after what you said, I’m feeling fifty thousand things at the same time and now I feel like my chest is going to explode.” I begin to pace, my palm clamped over my forehead as I take deep breaths. “Half of me wants to cry. The other half of me wants to kiss you.”

  “Then you should.”

  I stop pacing and look at him. “I should what?”

  “You should cry, and then you should kiss me.” Julian slips his hand into the bend of my elbow and pulls me to the other side of the tree, out of sight from his chauffeured car and whatever entourage he brought with him.

  And then, without saying another word, he pulls me into his arms and I begin to sob.

  “I love you so much,” I say, my words muffled against his shirt.

  He kisses the top of my head and squeezes me tighter.

  “You get in your own way, you know that? You ruin things. No, you don’t just ruin them, you obliterate them.”

  Julian cups my face before brushing away the wet tear tracks.

  “I love you, Julian, and a part of me always will,” I say. “But I don’t know if I can do this with you again. I don’t know if I can survive you a third time.”

  “Then that’s a problem for me because I don’t know if I can survive this life without you.”

  Before I have a chance to respond, his lips claim mine. Soft and hot and sweet like honey, his mouth commands mine. I melt against the tree as his body presses against me, and I slip my arms over his shoulders, breathing in his familiar, intoxicating musk.

  “Is the house unlocked?” he asks between kisses.

  “There’s a key under the mat by the back door.”

  Without saying another word, he takes my hand and the next thing I know, we’re dashing through the back yard. A minute later, we’re in, and I lead him to a lone sofa in the middle of the old living room. It’s covered in a white sheet. The movers didn’t have room for it on the truck, and they were supposed to come back for it the next day and never did.

  Julian takes a seat in the middle, pulling me close, and I lower myself onto his lap. His hands tug at the hem of my t-shirt until he peels it over my head, and I work the buttons of his dres
s shirt until his warm, bare chest is exposed. He goes for pants next, tugging on the button and zipper until they’re undone, and then he shoves them—panties and all—down my thighs.

  I don’t know what this is or what it’s going to mean come morning, but I’m too far in to stop now. For some strange reason that I can’t possibly comprehend in my current state of mind … I want this.

  And I want him.

  A moment later, I’m on my knees, taking his engorged cock in my hand and pumping the length before leaning in to taste it. He moans, settling back against the cushions, and every breath, every sound is magnified, echoing in this empty old house where we first fell in love.

  When he pulls me into his lap a short while later, he grips my hips, pressing me down onto him with the greed and impatience of a ravenous man, and I take his length and its pain and pleasure and meet his mouth with mine as I begin to rock against him until the pain disappears along with everything around us.

  Looking into his soulful eyes, I see the man who commands my heart, the man who left the permanent mark on my soul.

  He isn’t perfect.

  Far from it.

  But neither am I.

  I’ve always believed that you don’t find love, love finds you. We have the illusion of choice, but that’s all it is: an illusion. Sometimes when we fall for someone, we can’t ever fully put into words why we’ve fallen so hard. We only know that we feel it in our marrow. We only know that we see them when we close our eyes and we hear their sweet nothings playing like a loop in our ear.

  That’s how it was with Julian.

  I loathed him in my younger years, and then one summer, love found us.

  Julian and I find our perfect rhythm, and what was once hasty and rushed has settled into something more relaxed, something we can savor, something that can last all night.

  This is either the beginning or an era—or the end.

  Only time will tell.

  I make love to Julian for what feels like hours, then again, time has a way of warping whenever we’re together so I can’t be sure. When we’re finished, he calls Harrison and tells him to head back to the hotel with Rafa, and then he wraps me in the white sheet, takes me in his arms, and holds me tight against him.