CHAPTER 24
Emma
The drive from Chicago O’Hare to the Allstate Arena in Rosemont is only about five minutes, and yet it seems like it’s taking at least an hour. My cab driver is a nice enough guy, but he’s just a bit too chatty for me this morning. I’m totally wired from several cups of coffee since I had to be up so early, and I’m beyond excited yet nervous to see Evan. It’s been nine days since I’ve seen him and while we’ve talked every day by phone, FaceTimed a few times, and texted several times, there’s a part of me that’s shrunken back into my reserved shell. Nothing evidences that more than the fact I went with a pair of high-waisted khaki pants, a sky-blue blouse with a rounded collar, and a pair of white Keds on my feet.
So damn lame, yet it was like a protective armor to me.
Perhaps subconsciously I was reasoning that if that spark isn’t there… if the chemistry has faltered, I can at least go down knowing I was being true to myself and not an idealized version.
“Where do you want let off?” the driver asks as I see the arena come into view.
“Around the back,” I tell him. “There’s a fenced area where the tour buses will be.”
“Are you a groupie or something?” he asks, his eyes flicking to me in the rearview mirror.
I chuckle. “No. I’m an attorney and also a publicist.”
That felt weird to say. The publicist part.
Of course, I’m not about to tell him I’m Evan Scott’s girlfriend.
The cab driver navigates us to the rear of the building. Just as Tyler said there would be, I see a six-foot chain link fence surrounding a portion of the parking lot. Inside are the two buses as well as the tractor-trailers that carry the equipment.
Also, as Tyler promised, there’s a security guard standing at the gate.
The cabbie pulls up to the gate and the guard comes through, clearly expecting me. I open the door as I pull out my credit card to pay the driver, and the guard asks as he leans in a little, “Miss Peterson?”
“That’s me,” I say, perhaps a little too brightly.
Damn nerves.
The cab driver gets my rolling case out of the trunk while I handle the credit card transaction, then I show my ID to the guard, who gives it only a brief glance, before he escorts me into the fenced enclosure.
“Mr. Hannity said you have the security code for Mr. Scott’s bus,” he says.
“Yes,” I assure him. “Thank you.”
He gives a nod, and then I’m walking across the worn pavement to Evan’s home on wheels. My stomach churns and I suddenly have to pee, whether from an overload of coffee or near hysteria at seeing him again, but I walk with my shoulders thrown back and my head held high.
This is it.
Tiny internal squeal of excitement tinged with panic.
And then, the excitement wins out as I remember everything about Evan that made me fall for him. His humor, his alpha ways, his sweet side, and his dirty side. The fact that he believed in my abilities and pushed me out of my comfort zone.
The look on his face and the caring tone in his voice when he told me about my father after Midge called.
Yes, totally excited because I know this man and he’s the one for me.
My heart is racing as I key in the security code, and the doors give a whooshing hiss as they slide open. I’m greeted with silence from the interior and there’s no rushing puppy barreling at me, so I assume Sirius is in the other bus with Red. Leaving my case on the pavement, I climb the stairs quietly and turn into the living area.
It’s a total mess and I’m actually a bit stunned to see beer bottles all over the place. Laying on the floor, stacked on the side tables, and one lying on the couch. An empty bottle of bourbon is also on the couch, along with two empty pizza boxes.
There’s absolutely no way Evan caused all this destruction because he’s not a huge drinker, and I also happen to know he’s not a big fan of pizza. My money is resting right now on Dilana owning the empty bottle of bourbon and Cap calling for the pizza.
With a grin, I stealthily make my way down the length of the bus, wondering if Evan partied hard with his band last night. Chicago was a big show and there’d totally be reason to celebrate.
As I pass by the bathroom, I take a peek inside and my nose automatically wrinkles as I see dried vomit all over the toilet seat along with a crumpled towel on the floor. I’m not sure who that belongs to, but whoever is the culprit is going to have their butt over here this morning to clean that up. That’s my bathroom—along with Evan’s—and while I don’t mind them partying here in my absence, I’m not going to clean their mess up either.
A little peeved, I step past the bathroom and to the door of the bedroom. It’s shut almost all the way except for a small gap, and my hand goes to it to push it open.
My eyes land on the bed, expecting my heart to swell when I get a good look at Evan as he sleeps. I love watching him like that as his face looks so young and boyish… almost vulnerable.
Instead, I can barely process what I’m taking in, except that my heart isn’t swelling with abandon. Instead, it feels like someone stuck a knife right in the center and then sliced upward, ripping through the base of my throat so I can’t even utter a noise.
Evan is lying on his back, arms spread wide. He’s naked from the waist up and the top button of his jeans is undone. He’s sleeping hard, his mouth open and slack.
And curled into him—hell, partly on top of him—is a woman.
My chest constricts, squeezes so painfully that a tiny hiss of air comes out of my mouth. She’s sound asleep too.
Beautiful, long brown hair and a miniscule dress that’s showing me the fact she’s got a red thong underneath it. Her head is resting on Evan’s chest, her arm across his belly.
In my mind, I know they’re drunk and passed out.
In my heart, I can’t help but see the intimacy of the way she’s laying on him. So possessive and intimately acquainted with that beautiful chest that I’ve often laid my own head upon.
A crushing weight presses down upon me, and I actually feel disoriented from the slicing pain still evident in my chest. I stumble backward, reaching a hand out to catch myself on the edge of the door, but it slams backward into the wall and I almost fall to the ground. Luckily, my butt hits the door when it becomes stable against the wall, but the noise is enough to rouse Evan.
He jerks sort of slowly, and I almost vomit when I see his arm curl around the woman to squeeze her in closer. An involuntary cry of pain escapes my lips. I watch in horror as Evan’s head rises from the pillow and he looks straight at me with bleary eyes.
“Emma?” he says, his voice sounded clogged and scratchy.
His eyes look at me in confusion, and then his brows knit inward as his head slowly turns to the woman beside him, who hasn’t moved yet. He stares at her a long moment, and then he actually jerks spastically as it dawns on him that I’ve caught him with another woman.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he growls as he pushes the woman unceremoniously off his chest and scrambles backward off the bed. I watch as he reels, almost falls over, and catches himself on the wall, his other hand going to his head where his eyes squeeze shut in pain. He gets his bearings and opens his eyes slowly to look at me with shame.
“You unbelievable asshole,” I hiss at him. My eyes cut to the bed, and I see the woman hasn’t even stirred. She may be dead for all I know, but that’s not my problem.
“Emma,” Evan groans as he stumbles my way, and it’s clear he’s probably still drunk. “It’s not what it looks like.”
“Yeah?” I snarl at him as he tries to make his way around the bed toward me, catches a shin on the edge, and then pitches forward to the carpet. “Because to me, it looks like you replaced me pretty easily in your bed.”
“No,” he yells at me, and then groans again as he lurches upward, placing his palm on the mattress for leverage. “I have no clue who that is. I have no clue what—”
“Save it, you fucking asshole,” I screech at the top of my lungs, a very anti-Emma reaction, but I’m so beyond hurt and pissed at this moment, I’ve got no control over my actions.
The woman on the bed moans and mutters, “Shut the fuck up. My head hurts.”
She rolls over and passes out again.
And then, the tears make their appearance. My nose stings, gets wet, and the tears well up. I spin away from Evan before he can see them, and before they can fall. Stumbling past the door, I careen off the jamb, righting myself as soon as I hit the hallway.
I can hear Evan scrambling after me, but I’m sober and fueled by rage. I take off at a swift run, my feet sure as I make my escape. I can hear Evan crashing after me, cursing as he bangs into stuff.
Hitting the stairs, I jog down them and risk a quick look over my shoulder to see Evan’s already in the living area. My foot hits the pavement just as I turn my head back around, but not quickly enough to see my rolling case there and definitely not deftly enough to miss it.
I catch it with my shin, try to step over it, but catch it again with the toe of my tennis shoe, and I go sprawling right over it. I crash to the pavement, my hands coming out automatically to stop my fall, and then get shredded on the pavement.
A cry of pain pops out of me and the tears that had been threatening to fall turn into rivers over my cheeks. I hear Evan’s feet hit the pavement and his anguished voice say, “Oh, baby… Jesus, Emma…”
I pop back up to my feet, enraged again, and spin on him. He’s walking toward me, undaunted, but before he can even touch me, I snarl at him as my palms smack against his chest to stop his progress. He goes completely still, his face awash with sorrow and guilt and anguish and…
Fuck him!
My hands pull away, leaving spots of blood from my torn palms on his skin, and I tell him, “You stay the fuck away from me.”
He leans toward me. “Emma… for fuck’s sake, I have no clue what the fuck happened last night or who that is, but I swear I didn’t do anything.”
My nose wrinkles and I take a step back from him. “God… you stink, Evan.”
“I think I threw up last night,” he says, his voice sounding so lost.
I shake my head violently. “No, I mean you stink of her perfume.”
Evan’s face blanches and he reaches his hands out to me. I notice they’re shaking.
I take another step back.
“Emma,” Evan pleads with me. “I seriously don’t know what the fuck is going on. I was out with some college buddies last night, and we were at a club drinking… and honestly, I don’t remember much after that.”
This enrages me, that he’d be so irresponsible. “Save it, Evan. I don’t need to know a fucking thing about what happened last night, because I already know.”
Evan’s eyes flash and he grits his teeth. “You know, do you?”
“Yeah, I know,” I say nodding my head effusively. “Tyler told me all about you at that Phoenix party. Said you were just infatuated with me, but that I shouldn’t take that to mean you wanted something permanent. He told me that if I’m not around, you’d be balls deep in another woman. Apparently, he was right.”
“He’s fucking wrong,” Evan yells at me, his arms outstretched. “I don’t want anyone else. I want you.”
This infuriates me so much that a red hazy film seems to descend over my vision, and I scream at him. “You want me? You want me? Well, tell you what, Evan… if you want me so bad, then why don’t you walk away from this? Walk away now and come live a sedate life back in Raleigh with me. Choose your schoolmarm little girlfriend who wears granny panties over this life?”
Evan just stares at me… speechless. I can see his throat working, but nothing comes out.
“Exactly,” I hiss at him as I lean in briefly. “You want your cake and you want to eat it too, Evan. But guess what? This menu is closed.”
I spin away from him and immediately come to a halt as I see Red standing there with Sirius on his leash. His face is dark with worry as his gaze cuts between Evan and me.
“Red,” I call out to him, my voice cracking, and he takes one step toward me. “Can you take—”
Evan grabs hold of my arm and turns me toward him. I go apeshit and try to wrench free.
“Jesus, Emma,” Evan says as he grips one of my wrists and turns my hand up. “You’re bleeding.”
And then, I do the most unlike-Emma thing ever. I tear myself free of him and kick him in the shin. Evan grunts and doubles over to rub his leg while I scream at him like a banshee on an acid trip. “Don’t you fucking touch me ever again. I want my fucking dog back and I’m leaving, and you can go to hell, Evan.”
Evan stands up straight, but his shoulders sag. His eyes are glassy and moist as he looks at me with a pathetic amount of regret.
Too fucking bad.
Scrambling around Evan, I grab my rolling case and upright it, then, with my head down, I brush right past him. He doesn’t make a move and I’m grateful for it. I’ve caused enough of a scene, but I’m prepared to go crazy on him again.
I walk right up to Red, who puts an arm around me. He shoots a venomous look at Evan and turns me toward his bus as he murmurs. “Let me get my wallet. I’ll grab one of the security guys’ cars and we’ll get you out of here, okay?”
“I don’t even know how to get Sirius home,” I murmur, and then I give out a little sob.
“We’ll figure it out,” he assures me.
“Okay,” I say with a small voice, and I trust that Red will help to get my dog and me back to Raleigh.