Chapter 16

“Fuck him, Mimi,” Luke exploded, “You can make yourself happy, and that’s good enough. Who the fuck does he think he is?”

Emma watched him pace back and forth in front of her, his anger palpable. She didn’t want to tell him about the confrontation with Andrew but when Luke called her 30 minutes earlier, she had been sitting in her car in the parking lot at work in the throws of a breakdown.

Andrew’s words had stung her, feeding into every insecurity she had. Those when she was married to him, and new ones that she had been cultivating since their divorce. She grieved for the relationship she dreamed of having with him, the fairy-tale marriage promised to her and the children never meant to be. And now Portia was going to be the mother of what should have been her child, the one Andrew said he wasn’t ready for. She had kept it together until the end of her shift but as soon as she buckled her seatbelt, her tears spilled out of her in an ugly, no holds barred cry.

That’s when Luke called. She blurted it all out, sobbing stupidly into the phone, snot and tears soaking her blouse. It was not a pretty sight but it was the first time she had really let herself cry since the divorce. He just listened patiently, chiming in every now with “It’s ok, it’s ok”. Once her wails turned into breathy sobs, he told her to go home, that he would be waiting. True to his word, he was there when she arrived.

“Don’t take it personally. That little shit has been indulged his whole life, handed everything he ever wanted on a silver fucking platter. He’s incapable of processing disappointment. It’s a foreign concept that turns him into a petulant man-child,” Luke explained, waving his hands in the air to punctuate his opinion.

Emma considered his words and had to admit they made sense. She knew all that really, but it was always good to hear it from someone else. She wiped away her tears, wondering just how awful she looked at that moment.

“Don’t let him shake you, Mimi, that’s what he wanted,” he continued. “You divorced him for good reasons. Portia can have him. As far as I’m concerned, that bitch deserves him. I never trusted her. I know she was your friend but her loyalty was never with you.”

“It was with Andrew,” Emma whispered, nodding her head.

“Nope, it was with herself. She always was the opportunist, out for number one,” Luke observed, sitting down beside her. Emma took his hand and smiled, grateful he was with her, saying the things she would never say. He squeezed her fingers gently and smiled.

“Christ, you’re a mess. You’ve got mascara all over your face,” he chuckled, using his free thumb to wipe off her cheek. Unsuccessful, he brought his thumb to his mouth to moisten it and raised it to her face again.

“Gross,” Emma giggled, turning her head away, “keep your DNA off of me!”

Luke laughed and pulled her towards him, teasing her with his damp digit.

“Stop,” she laughed, gently pushing him back, “I’ll wash it off myself. I don’t know where that thumb has been.”

He shrugged and released his grip, an impish smile forming on his face. “Oh, you don’t want to know where it’s been, trust me,” he laughed, slapping her backside as she stood up. Emma lurched herself away, just out of his reach, enjoying the playful exchange.

“Ew, whatever. You whore.”

“Nah, I never accept payment for my services,” he quipped, sitting back on the couch, obviously pleased with himself.

Emma walked away smiling, forgetting just how heartbroken she had been only minutes earlier. She made her way into the bathroom to look at her reflection in the mirror. She was shocked by how damaged she looked, her eyes raccooned by her mascara, her face heavy with anguish. She turned on the hot water and washed her face, cleansing away all evidence of her grief.

“Get changed, we’re going out!” Luke suddenly yelled from the living room. “And put on something sexy, you need to get laid.”

Emma poked her head out the bathroom door and stared at him, waiting for him to look up and see her. When he finally did, she blurted, “are you serious?”

“Yes, I’m serious. You’ve waited long enough and now is as good a time as any,” he insisted, raising himself from the sofa and walking over to her.

Emma bit her lip, considering exactly how she felt about his suggestion. While she was ready to consummate her divorce, the thought of it terrified her. She had just been through the emotional ringer, and the last thing she wanted was to doll herself up and go out to a bar, hoping to find a man. And what if no one wanted her? She was far too vulnerable for rejection at the moment. Her encounter with Andrew that day had stirred up too many emotional landmines, painful memories of all the times he criticized her lovemaking, chastised her skills, demeaned her. What if he had been right?

“You look terrified, Mimi. What is it?” Luke asked, approaching her cautiously. She shook her head, her teeth biting into her bottom lip, dangerously close to tears again.

“I can’t, Luke. I’m a mess,” she admitted, crossing her arms over her chest.

“So just put on some makeup and change your clothes. You clean up nice, I’ve seen it,” he teased, rubbing her shoulders gently.

“It’s not that. I’m just...I don’t think...I’m just not up to it tonight. Sorry...”

“It’s okay,” he cooed, pulling her into a hug, “we’ll stay in and watch a movie. You pick. It can even be a chick flick if you want.”

She looked up at him with an expression that conveyed both gratitude and surprise. “Really? You’ll watch a chick flick with me? I must be worse than I thought!”

“Shut up before I change my mind,” he quipped, pulling her closer. He kissed her sloppily on the top of her head. “Go throw on some jammies. I’ll make us some hot chocolate.”

“Ooh, with mini marshmallows?” she teased, referencing the naughty conversation they had only a month earlier.

“Easy tiger,” he snickered, gently urging her down the hallway.