Emilia
For months, life had been blissful. Emi hadn’t expected anything less. She felt stupid that she’d waited that long to get the courage to admit, not just to Sydney but to herself, that she was utterly in love with him. Even his mom, who’d never met her, had known for months that they were in love. Sydney and Emi flew out to Flagstaff, where he introduced her as his soul mate, and his mother’s response had floored her.
“I knew you were out there and it was just a matter of time before he found you.” She’d held her arms open wide to hug her. “I’ve known it from the moment he first told me about you. You’re the one.”
Needless to say his mother was all for the relationship. Emi had never felt so welcome so quickly into anyone’s life. They’d even ironed out the few wrinkles that over the first few weeks of their relationship had needed ironing out, like both of them agreeing to be honest about their feelings and any jealousy they might be dealing with—something neither of them should be feeling but inevitably did. Emi hated to admit she thought her age and immaturity compared to Sydney’s worked against her sometimes. It was the only thing she feared could possibly be the cause for problems between them.
Her growing insecurities.
Everything else between them was perfect. When Sly had called her a couple of times at first because he wanted a longer explanation of their break up—something she admitted to Sydney she’d sort of offered the day she broke things off with him so abruptly—Sydney had listened to her tell him about it calmly. Albeit he was noticeably tense and a bit irritated when she’d told him how long she’d been on the phone with him. She hadn’t thought forty minutes was too unreasonable until he told her about his fifteen-minute chat with Scarlet and how Julie Anne had come by for five or ten minutes to visit with Homer.
Emi had been livid. Though she’d done her best to not show her immaturity compared to Sydney’s composed way of handling his anger. Even Homer had gotten a few nasty glares from her when Sydney mentioned how excited he’d been about seeing Julie Anne. Fat little traitor! Sydney had reassured her easily enough, and just like when he’d calmed her about his call with Scarlet, their first argument ever—about Julie Anne still stopping by his place to flaunt her obnoxious assets—had ended in bed with Sydney calming her once again in his very special way.
The second time Sly had called had been harder to tell Sydney about. But they’d agreed to pure honesty, especially when it came to this kind of stuff. She’d kept the conversation short enough, even telling him she didn’t think it was a good idea for him to keep calling her. She was going to be telling Sydney about this last call, and she was certain he wouldn’t be too accepting of them staying friends after that particular conversation.
As hard as it was to tell him about it, even then he was so much better about dealing with any kind of jealous emotion than she was.
She’d begun spending multiple nights at his place, though they still hadn’t discussed any possibilities of moving in together. Emi was okay about keeping things as is. Getting that close to him did scare her a little. She already felt so completely and hopelessly in love with him, and that was terrifying. His composure about the things she was sure would have her stomping her feet like a child and wanting to throw a tantrum made her feel like he had the upper hand.
Like the night she had no choice but to tell him she’d spoken with Sly again. She’d gone up to his place right after she’d gotten off the phone with Sly to put together a mandarin chicken salad for them. They were in the kitchen with Sydney doing his usual, following her around, incapable of keeping his hands off her.
Sydney stood behind her, kissing her neck as she put the salad together, his erection unabashedly making itself known against her ass. Emi had to smile, feeling that all too familiar ache between her legs. She was never there for more than a few minutes before his erection made its stiff appearance.
But before he let any time pass, before Sydney could ask her why she hadn’t told him sooner, she just blurted it out. “Sly called today.”
Sydney stopped mid kiss trail on her neck but didn’t pull away. “For what?” he said against her neck.
Even that was impressive. She would’ve already been pulling away, her insides well lit if he told her Scarlet or any of his exes had called again. She didn’t even like to admit that hearing he’d spoken to Lynni for a while was a little galling now. She finally understood why Angel had once upon a time been irritated by Sydney referring to her as Lynni. It was a little too sweet.
“He said he just wanted to talk”—she squeezed her eyes shut before adding the last part—“because he misses me.” Now Sydney pulled away, and she turned around to face him, touching his arm. “I cut the call short. I told him that it probably wouldn’t be a good idea for him to keep calling me even as just friends since he was admitting to still having feelings for me and I’m with you now.”
“What else did he say?”
For a moment she considered lying, but she figured she may as well be completely honest. “He said he’s feeling all twisted—whatever that means—that my breaking things off with him the way I did really caught him by surprise and now I’m all he ever thinks about.” Sydney’s expression hardened further, but before the brow could go too high, she slipped her hands in his. “I apologized for hurting him but made it clear my heart belonged to you now. He said he’d respect my wishes but wanted me to know he’d be there if I ever needed him. And then we hung up. It was that short.”
Sydney stared at her for a moment that had her holding her breath and then he kissed her. “Good girl.” He nipped her bottom lip then spun her around and pulled her shorts down, bending her over the counter roughly.
Instantly aroused, she moved the food out of the way and moaned when she felt his fingers inside her. “Perfect,” he growled into her ear then let her suck his two wet fingers so she could see for herself just how wet she was.
The arousal was so swift, so overwhelming. If she weren’t certain he was about to, she’d beg him to fuck her. She kicked the shorts at her ankles away and spread for him, lifting her ass in the air, and then cried out when he slammed into her. “Yes!” she said, gripping the side of the granite countertop with one hand. “Oh my God, yes!”
With her other hand, she played with herself as he taught her to do in this position, and already she could feel it building. The more it built, the louder she cried out until her legs nearly gave out on her as the amazing climax pummeled through her, spasm after spasm. He slammed into her one last time with a loud groan then stood there gripping her waist tightly as he came inside her.
After a few moments of both of them trying to recover and catch their breath, Sydney leaned in from behind and whispered into her ear. “Just needed to remind you your heart’s not the only thing that belongs to me now.”
~~~
Gut feelings are usually pretty spot on. Emi’s always had been anyway. From the first day she’d formally met Sydney at Mando’s repast, she’d thought his relationship with Cristina a bit odd. She’d been doing better about her insecurity issues even whenever he mentioned having chatted with Cristina again.
It seemed he did at least once a week. Of course, it’d since been established that Sydney had one of the kindest hearts of anyone she’d ever met. He was genuinely just checking up on her. While it made Emi a little uneasy, she trusted him completely. He’d always been upfront and honest about his relationship with Mando’s widow. So Emi had since concluded that the unease she felt when he’d tell her about yet another phone conversation he’d had with her was just her petty and unreasonable jealousy.
Then one evening, while they were having dinner, he gave her the unnerving news. “I invited Cristina and the kids to come sailing with us this weekend.”
The bite of food Emi had been working on practically soured on the spot. But she was determined to be mature about this.
“Did you?” she asked as she picked up her glass of water and took a swig.
“Yeah, I didn’t realize they hadn’t gone out since Mando had gotten sick. He was the sailor, not her, so when she mentioned it today, I thought the kids might enjoy going out with us this weekend.”
Hearing him say that with such genuine benevolence made her feel guilty about the jealous feelings that the thought of sharing him that weekend with Cristina stirred up. “That’s sweet of you,” she said, reaching out and squeezing his hand. “I’m sure they would enjoy it.”
~~~
Seeing Cristina and the kids and how well they were all doing that following Sunday had been pleasant. Being witness to one of Sydney and Cristina conversations was quite another thing. The revelation about just how close he was to Cristina was unsettling to say the least. The things they spoke of were things he didn’t even talk to Emi about—nothing bad or incendiary—but listening to them discuss things she and Sydney never spoke with Emi about was a little daunting. Things like the pros and cons of public schools vs. private schools for her kids then retirement accounts in depth. The detailed explanation of how she’d rolled Mando’s IRA and pension plan into trusts for the kids had Emi’s head spinning.
When they started talking about each other’s education, Emi started sinking in her seat. Here they were, talking about their impressive advanced degrees and things so far into their future like retirement plans, and after two years in college, Emi still hadn’t even decided on a solid major.
Then there was the stuff about Cristina’s family therapy. Sydney had anchored the boat so they could enjoy the sunset over a glass of wine and some snacks for the kids. Emi had been beyond relieved when Sydney finally switched from the subject of Cristina going back to school for her PhD until they moved onto a completely different one, a gut-knotting subject for Emi.
“What about everything else?” Sydney asked, glancing down to the stern of the boat where the kids had gone to explore then turned back to Cristina. “The kids doing better?”
Emi had watched as the two exchanged a look. Sydney seemed to have caught himself as if maybe he shouldn’t have asked in front of her, but Cristina shook her head as if to say it was fine. She then turned to Emi. “I’ve had some issues with Mickey, my oldest. He got violent a few times at school and got into some other trouble. I hadn’t told anyone in the family because it just felt too personal and asked Syd not to say anything. But I’m homeschooling him now and we’re doing family therapy. It’s been tough,” she said, her face suddenly scrunching, but she got it together quickly and took a deep breath.
Sydney was immediately on his feet and sat next to her, bringing his arm around her shoulder. “I’m good,” she assured him. “These are actually tears of joy because he really is doing better. It’s just hard to have to keep it together all the time, you know?”
“You shouldn’t have to,” Sydney said, staring at her very seriously. “I’ve told you to call me anytime, Cristina.”
“I know.” She nodded. “You’re a good friend and godsent, Syd. But things are looking up. It’s why I decided to go back for my PhD, starting this fall. Mickey will be going back to school then. Both he and the therapist think he’s ready.” She took a sip of her wine and smiled at Sydney then Emi and held her wine glass up. “To taking it one day at a time.”
Emi smiled sympathetically, holding out her wine glass. “To Mickey doing better.”
The wine went down hard. The knot in her stomach grew by the second as she’d watched Sydney continue to speak positively and continue to console Cristina with his arm still around her. Two things were screaming out to Emi. Cristina hadn’t wanted to share something so personal with the family, but she’d share it with Sydney? And Sydney had this all out relationship with this woman, one Emi had been completely in the dark about. She knew she wasn’t just being paranoid anymore.
As promised, Sly hadn’t called since that last time. For some reason, the day she’d spent listening and watching Sydney’s interaction with Cristina had her thinking about Sly as the day finally came to an end.
Sydney’s reaction to Sly’s call was . . . not disappointing. The last thing she wanted was to try and make him jealous. She hated that tense feeling she’d gotten at the pit of her stomach both times she’d had to bring up Sly’s calls. “Annoyed” was probably a better word to describe how well he’d handled the calls both times, a glaring reminder of poorly she dealt with her insecure heart. Today, for example, seeing how engrossed he could get in his conversations with Cristina had the green-eyed monster screeching inside of her.
Everything else about their relationship so far had been perfect, and Emi knew she had to get a grip. Unless she wanted to risk him rethinking just how compatible they really were, she needed to cut the shit out. She didn’t want to make herself crazy, but she knew it was a definite possibility that the novelty of their romance would eventually wear off and he’d see her for what she felt like: a petty and immature girlfriend, undeserving of a man like Sydney.
Unable to help herself, she had to address it the moment they were alone and on the road. “I didn’t realize you two were that close,” she’d said on the drive home.
“I’d gotten real close with both her and Mando the year before he got sick,” Sydney explained. “The year things got bad I did more talking to her than him since most of the time he was out of it.” He paused to take a deep breath, and Emi had been able to see just how hard Mando’s death had been on him, yet he’d almost never spoke about it—with Emi. “It was brutal. The only thing that makes it a little easier to bear is knowing what a strong woman Cristina is. My mother was a lot older than Cristina when my dad passed, and she didn’t have little ones to deal with on her own, and even she didn’t bounce back and just roll with the punches the way Cristina has. I guess necessity will do that to you. But I still hate that she’s all alone.”
Emi’s first thoughts were maybe she’d bounced back so much faster than his mom did because of Sydney. If they were so close that she’d confide so much about her personal life—stuff she didn’t even confide to her family—technically she wasn’t alone. Having Sydney’s shoulder to cry on, even before her husband died, was likely a huge and welcome comfort to her. Too welcome. But Emi kept her thoughts to herself.
~~~
Weeks later Emi still hadn’t shaken the unease, especially because she thought she’d noticed a change in his mood lately, noticed him being a little distant. She hadn’t wanted to be that difficult, jealous girlfriend, so she hadn’t said anything. She watched as he walked out from his bedroom now, phone still in hand. He seemed pensive as he often did lately. He walked to the kitchen cabinet and pulled out the bottle of his migraine headache pills.
“You stressing about something?” she asked.
“No. It’s not even a bad one. I just don’t want it to go there.”
Emi nodded, continuing to dice tomatoes for the salsa she was making. “Who called?” she asked, not looking up.
“Braydon,” he said, walking over and kissing her cheek. “I’ll have to go out of town this Thursday.”
Braydon was one of the other executives where Sydney worked, one Emi was beginning to resent. From what Sydney had told her, Braydon should be doing his share of all these trips for this acquisition they were still trying finalize. It seemed lately Sydney had taken on the brunt of the out-of-town trips, something Emi hated. She knew it was his job, but being away from him for even a few days was torture.
“How long will you be gone?” she asked, trying not to whine.
“Until Saturday.” He kissed her neck from behind. “Maybe Sunday. I’ll call you and let you know as soon as I know.”
The rest of their evening was as satisfying as usual. With him having to leave in two days, she decided to stay the night again when he asked her to. Even that she’d analyzed to death. Normally, he begged her to not leave. This time it felt more like a suggestion because it was late and he knew she had a change of clothes at his place for school tomorrow.
After another amazing evening of lovemaking that had them both sleeping soundly early on, Emi got up about midnight to use the bathroom. On her way back to bed, she noticed his phone blinking and not plugged in. He’d need it charged for the morning, so she grabbed it off the dresser so she could place it on the charging mat he had on his nightstand. Before she reached his nightstand, she glanced down at the phone, which had lit up when she touched it. It was locked, but she could see the preview of the last text he’d received hours ago—from Cristina. She could only see the preview, but it was enough to have her insides on fire.
Sweet dreams, Syd. Call me . . .
Her entire life she’d known her brothers were hotheads. It wasn’t until lately that she’d started to justify her own out-of-control-jealous emotions on her genes. It ran in the family, and she’d known she wasn’t just being jealous. She’d just never been exposed to anything that would piss her off this bad. This wasn’t all paranoia. She could feel something change in Sydney lately, and this just confirmed it.
Normally, she’d respect Sydney’s privacy and not read his messages even though she knew his password, but this piqued her curiosity. She rushed back into the bathroom. Once there, she tapped his password onto the keypad furiously.
Incorrect password (nine attempts remaining)
She did it again and got the same message. After the second time, she was certain it was her outrage that had her typing so fast and hard she was getting it wrong, but after the third time, it hit her. He’d changed his password.
Her stomach plummeted. The only reason she could think of why he’d change it was that he didn’t want her to have access to his messages anymore. Why?
Her mind raced, reviewing the conversation she’d already gone over and over the night they got back from their day out sailing with Cristina and the kids and she tried so hard to not be that insecure girlfriend.
Bringing her hand to her face, Emi gasped as the reality sank in. What Cristina had gone through—losing her husband so young—was tragic. Emi felt for her. She did. But if this bitch was coming after her man, widow or not, Emi would be telling her where she could stick all her sweet dream texts.
She felt her heart thud with a mixture of anger, seething jealousy, and, at the same time, dread—dread of further confirming how poorly she was at handling her insecurities. It was the only thing that kept her from waking him and demanding to know why he’d changed his password and why the hell Cristina was sending him these maddening texts. She stalked over to the Sydney’s nightstand and put the phone down, annoyed that her setting it down a bit loudly didn’t wake him. She crawled in next to him and stared at him, wishing she could somehow stare a cramp into his neck.
The rest of the night would’ve been one nightmare after another for sure if she’d been able to sleep. It was especially irritating because she had finals tomorrow. She needed to get some sleep. For hours, she’d tossed and turned, thinking back to everything Sydney had ever mentioned about Cristina. Every single thing he’d ever said about her was positive. Praise even. The more she thought about it, the more exasperating it felt. She’d finally fallen asleep an hour or so before she had to be up. Sydney, however, had slept like a rock the entire night.
It surprised her to wake up in an empty bed. Most of the time it was Sydney’s roaming hands, fingers, and sometimes even his tongue that woke her. She heard his voice in the front room and realized he was on the phone. Checking her own phone, she could see it was time for her to get up.
Sydney walked back in the room with a strange expression. He seemed surprised to see her up. “Something wrong?” she asked as he walked by her, not reaching out to touch her or even pull her to him as he normally would.
“Yeah.” He frowned as he set his phone down on the dresser. “That meeting I had to be at on Thursday got moved up. I have to be there by this afternoon.”
“What? Why?”
Again she did her best not to whine. She hated how she had to put so much effort into behaving like an adult. Sydney seemed to be in awe of Cristina for being so strong after losing her husband at such a young age and having to raise her kids all alone. Emi hated herself for already feeling choked up about the mere thought of her boyfriend leaving for a few days. But she knew it was more than just hearing he’d be leaving sooner than he thought that had her choking back the emotion.
“I don’t know. Shit happened and they want to do things sooner.” He grabbed his tablet and started toward the door again.
“Will you still be gone until Saturday?”
“I don’t know, Em.” He snapped as he’d never snapped at her before.
His tone was an irritated one—impatient. She was getting on his nerves, and he was making no effort to hide it. He stopped abruptly before leaving, and Emi felt a sudden hope that he’d caught himself and was walking back to apologize. Maybe hug her and kiss her because she needed that so badly at that moment.
Instead, he walked to his phone, checked something on it, then put it back down on the dresser and rushed out of the room without saying another word or even looking at her.
Feeling a bit breathless and a little confused about what was happening, Emi rushed to his phone. It hadn’t timed out yet, and as underhanded and anxious as she felt that he might walk back in and catch her, she continued to tap away until she got to his texts. She froze when she got to the texts between him and Cristina. First because the partial text she’d read last night was gone. He’d deleted it. Then because of all the other interactions between them. The way his phone was set up she could see every interaction he’d had with her. He’d called Cristina that morning, though the length said one minute, which meant she probably hadn’t answered. Then Emi noticed the longer call he’d had with Cristina—last night. When? Emi had been there the whole evening. The only phone call he’d been on was the one he took in his bedroom with Braydon.
Then it hit her. He’d lied. She double-checked the time, and sure enough, it was around the time she’d arrived and was making the salsa in his kitchen. No calls from Braydon around that time. Her heart sped up even more when she realized this was the call he said Braydon informed him about having to go out of town—again.
She scrolled through the other texts between him and Cristina. There were tons. All were harmless about her kids and more stuff he and Emi never talked about: insurance policies, the construction she was having done at her home. Then her eyes stopped at one. It was a response from Sydney to Cristina.
You’re an amazing woman. I know you know this. You have to.
Emi nearly dropped the phone when it suddenly rang in her hand. The screen switched from the text she was reading to the pop-up of who was calling.
Cristina.
Sydney walked into the room and slowed when he saw her holding it. She held it out to him. “It’s Cristina.”
He took it without comment. “Hey,” he answered. “Yeah, hold on.”
Their eyes met for one fleeting moment, and if she weren’t mistaken, he still looked irritated. Without saying anything, he started to the door. Apparently, he didn’t want to have this conversation in front of her either. A sudden dread overwhelmed her as she watched him leave the room. No way was she keeping this in anymore. She had to confront him—find out what the hell was going on between him and Cristina.
But what if he admitted it? What if this was her worst nightmare come to life? What if the novelty of being with Emi had worn out? What if, after being with her, getting the physical need out of his system, the one he said had begun to feel like an obsession, he realized that’s all she had to offer him? Realized that someone more his age and with more experience in everything, like Cristina, was far more mentally stimulating and compatible for him?
Was it possible this business trip he was taking was actually a getaway with Cristina? You’re an amazing woman.
“No!” Emi shook her head, feeling the hot tears well up in her eyes. “He wouldn’t do that.”
She rushed to the door, remembering that very first time she’d snapped at him, way back when she’d thought he was judging her for dating two guys at once. “I don’t do that.”
He’d been adamant about that. He didn’t even see someone on the side when he was just dating someone. Cheryl had been a woman he said he broke things off with because he’d never felt anything for her. Even then he said it felt wrong to lead her on. Sydney was in love with Emi. Despite all her stupid insecurities, she knew this for a fact. She saw it in his eyes, felt it in his kisses and when he made love to her. It was undeniable. His love for her was as palpable as Emi’s was for him.
Rushing to the door even as the tears started streaming down her face, she was determined to get to the bottom of this. There had to be a valid explanation. To her surprise, the apartment was empty. She glanced around and even walked out onto his balcony. He’d left the apartment for even more privacy? His keys and wallet were still on the counter, so he couldn’t have gone far.
Emi scuttled back into the bedroom and picked up her phone. She hit speed dial, swatting the tears away. Her call went straight to voicemail, and an auto response text popped up on her screen, saying Sydney was unavailable and to call his secretary if it was urgent.
She was overcome with the sudden urge to fling her phone across the bedroom, but she threw it on the bed instead. Remembering the damn final she had today had her looking down at the screen at the time. She wondered now if she should just skip it. This felt a million times more important. So the work she’d put in all summer would be all for nothing. If her heart wasn’t already aching, that might feel a little more devastating.
But this could be nothing. She still held out the tiniest bit of hope that this was all just a misunderstanding. What if he got back, explained himself, made her feel incredibly stupid for jumping to such unthinkable conclusions? She’d flunk her summer course for nothing.
Since she had to wait for him to get back anyway and there was no telling when that would be, she decided to jump in the shower. Once in there, the flood gates opened. She had to let it out, crying openly, though she kept it as quiet as possible, but she needed to. She’d be a mess when she finally confronted him, and she wanted to have at least a little composure.
In there much longer than she anticipated, she finally was able to calm herself and step out of the bathroom, a little put together. She’d expected to see him in the bedroom, getting things ready for his business trip. The very thought sickened her. But he wasn’t there.
Surprised, she threw on a pair of panties and one of his T-shirts that hung from the bedpost. The smell of him alone was enough to get the tears going again. She hurried out into the front room, but he wasn’t there either. Could he still be on the phone? Then she saw it—the bare kitchen counter. His keys and wallet were gone now.
This only panicked her further, and now her heart pounded. That tiny bit of hope she’d held out that maybe she was just being paranoid was crushed. He left without saying good-bye?
Hurrying back into her room, she made a beeline straight to her phone on her bed, the flicker of hope staying alive when she saw the message indicator flashing. The flicker got stronger when she saw the text from Sydney or rather “My Sweetheart.”
Sorry I couldn’t wait for you to get out of the shower. I had to go. I’ll call you later.
Hitting send immediately, Emi felt the boulder at her throat again. The text was far from hopeful or even satisfying. Zero emotion was expressed in it. No “I love you” or even “I miss you” as he usually included in just about any message he ever sent her. Once again, the call went to his voicemail, shooting her another instant auto response text.
This time she did what she’d felt like doing all morning and stomped her feet like a child, letting out an exasperated groan that turned into a screech before sending off her text to him.
ANSWER YOUR PHONE! WE NEED TO TALK!
She gave it a few minutes then tried again only to get his voicemail and the stupid auto response text again. The anxiety she was feeling now that this was actually happening was too much to bear.
The text she’d begun to write him was getting too long. She wanted him to know exactly what was going on in her head. Hear what she was feeling even if it meant leaving him a blubbering voicemail with all her ridiculous theories. If she was wrong—completely off—he’d call her immediately and clear things up, at the very least respond with a text assuring her she was wrong and he loved her as she did him. That everything would be okay and they’d be together forever like he’d been promising her from the moment they declared their love for one another.
So she called and waited for the inevitable to happen. When it did, she cleared her throat, though there’d be no hiding her crying.
“Sydney, we need to talk. I need to know what’s going on with you. I know it wasn’t Braydon who called you last night. I know it was Cristina.” She paused to take a trembling breath. “I know you deleted a text from her last night and that you talk and text her way more than I ever imagined. Please tell me it’s not what I’m thinking.” Her voice broke, and she took a few deep breaths to try and get herself together again. “Please tell me nothing is going on between you and her. My heart is completely breaking. Please call me.”
She hung up and lay down on his bed, feeling numb. This wasn’t happening. With the phone at her chest, she lay there for minutes, the sniffling turning into crying the longer the time passed and no call or response came from Sydney. A sudden ping made her flinch and gasp as she looked down and saw she had a text from him. As much as she’d been praying even as she cried that she’d hear back from him, she was terrified to read his text now. But she took a deep breath and clicked on the envelope. The short length of it was enough to break her heart before she even read it. Then she did.
You’re right. We need to talk. But I can’t now. I’ll call you later.
It was like a stab through the heart. The pain was that unbearable. He may as well have said she was right about everything else too.