“I find that difficult conversations tend to be a little easier with distractions.”
“So, this is going to be a difficult conversation?” She raised her eyebrows.
“For me, at least,” I admitted.
We hadn’t even begun the conversation, and already Emma was seeing a different side to me, one I didn’t show very often. It wasn’t easy for me to let my guard down, to show weakness, but Emma always had a way about clawing her way beneath my hard outer shell.
She considered this, then pushed her plate away. “I’m not hungry.”
“Don’t be stubborn,” I said. “You need to eat.”
“I don’t like ahi tuna salad,” she said, glaring at the plate.
“Have you had it before?”
“I don’t eat raw fish.”
“Right.” I cleared my throat. “It’s seared, so not totally raw. Try it.”
“No.” She met my gaze, a gleam of defiance in her eyes.
“Then I’ll ask if they can bring you something else,” I said between gritted teeth.
“We’re ten thousand feet in the air. Where do you think they’re going to find something else?”
Letting out a deep breath, I reminded myself to stay calm. “Fine, then we’ll land the damn plane and find a Taco Bell.”
She pursed her lips. “You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.”
“I’d love to. But I don’t eat Taco Bell either. It’s gross.”
Unable to help myself, I barked out a laugh.
That, as it happened, was the wrong move. She glared at me, snatching her wineglass from the table and taking an angry gulp before facing me down with a warning glare.
“At least let me ask the attendant what else they have.”
“Fine,” she muttered, taking another sip of her wine.
Folding my cloth napkin, I rose from my seat and ventured to the front of the cabin.
“Is everything okay, sir?”
“Yes, it’s fine. But my . . .” My what? Girlfriend? That didn’t seem right. Emma had once agreed to be my person, but I didn’t know if that still stood. “My companion doesn’t like the fish. Would you be kind enough to remove her plate and bring her something else?”
“Of course, sir. Right away. We don’t have any other entrée options, but we have yogurt and granola, fruit, and some snacks.”
“Bring everything you have. She’ll select what she likes.”
The attendant nodded and got to work. By the time I slid back into the wide leather seat across from Emma, the attendant was stopping her cart beside us again, offering Emma a variety of choices.
It amused me to watch Emma select a bottle of water and a bright yellow package of peanut candies. When the attendant was gone, Emma tore into the bag and popped a few candies into her mouth.
“Happy now?” she asked as she chewed.
“Yes, pet.” I took a bite of my own food, continuing to study her. I didn’t comment on the fact that the altitude and sugar would probably make her feel sluggish later. At least she was eating.
“Enough stalling, Gavin. Start talking, or the second we get there, I turn around and go back.”
I nodded. “Fine. It’s a little hard to know where to start.”
“The beginning is usually good,” she said, not without a touch of sarcasm.
I took a sip of my wine and gave in. “All right. Ashley was an agency girl, which I know Cooper told you. She came to us just off of her farewell tour with the New York Ballet Company, and she was, well, she was my type. Slender, dark-haired, and graceful. She was slightly curvier than your average ballerina, but knowing you, I’m sure you saw her picture.”
Emma stiffened for a moment, then nodded.
“I took her to the Met Gala with me. It was our first date and I thought, well, I assumed a girl like her, so young and having grown up so poor, wouldn’t really fit in at a place so fancy, but she quickly proved me wrong. She was the most radiant woman in the room that night, and when she took to the dance floor, she was like no woman I’d ever seen before. She was . . . she was always like that. She fit in every place she went, and she encouraged me to try to do the same thing. At a ballpark, she was one of the loudest people rooting for a team she’d never heard of until she’d gotten to the field. At an opera, she wept for the dying lovers, even though she didn’t know what they were saying. She was truly a special girl.”
Emma glanced away, but I could see the hurt in her eyes. I wanted to add that Ashley had a dark side that had eventually stolen her shine. And Emma? She meant the world to me. There was no comparison between them. But I knew any mention of our relationship when she wanted to pretend we no longer had one would only add fuel to the fire, so I remained silent, waiting for Emma to come to terms with what she’d heard so far.
She set her candy down with shaking hands and took a sip of water. Finally, she nodded. “Go on.”
“Anyway, Ashley loved life, and the same energy she’d put into dancing she essentially transferred to her relationship with me. She was young too, and it showed. At twenty-two, she was eight years younger than me, but there was something about her that made me not care.”
Emma shifted in her seat but remained silent. She refused to meet my gaze but I stared at her, studying her expression the whole time I spoke. The pain, the conflict, the curiosity, I saw it all, and knew the only way to make it better was to press on.
“So, with her youth came a lot of immaturities. She was jealous, even of the women I worked with. She was suspicious of my previous assistant, and absolutely hated Sonja. She was dramatic too. When she was angry, she would make it her personal mission to make sure everyone else was miserable too. Still, she was the breath of fresh air I needed at a time when I was working eighty- to ninety-hour weeks while our business grew. I’d gone on that way nonstop for three years, and when Ashley came around, it felt like a sign. I was thirty and it was time to settle down.”
“Were you in love with her?” Emma asked quietly.
I shook my head. “There was a time when I thought I was, but looking back, no. It never got that far, but I did love her. In my own way.”
“And you pursued me, why? Because I looked like her?”
I bit the inside of my cheek. I’d dreaded this question, but I knew I had to answer it honestly or Emma would trust nothing else I told her. “Yes, at first. I was intrigued. I have a very specific type that Ashley—and you—fit.”
“I see,” Emma said softly, leaving me to wonder how she felt.
“The truth is the first time I saw you, I could hardly breathe—hardly think—hardly move. It’s a wonder how I approached the counter and ordered my espresso.”
Emma blinked at me, waiting, wanting more. I pushed my plate away and leaned closer to her.
“I battled with myself, wanting you from the very first moment. Holy fuck, did I want you. But after everything I’d been through—the suffocating grief, the condemnation, the fucking media circus—I just couldn’t do it again. I didn’t know if I’d make it through all that again. And I imagined, maybe you were just like her. Maybe all of my relationships with women were meant to end in death and destruction—like my mother and then my first serious girlfriend. It was better to stay away. But, of course, that was easier said than done.”
The flight attendant chose that moment to come back. She removed my plate and refilled my empty wineglass before swishing away again, leaving us alone in the pressure-filled cabin to navigate this shaky new existence.
Emma lifted her eyes to mine, waiting for me to continue.
“But the honest truth is, you and she are two very different people. She was troubled, and difficult at times. Stubborn, immature. But you’re independent and strong. Sure of yourself. And also, not. Also seeking. Just like me.”
Emma looked down, wringing her hands in her lap. I was laying myself bare, and though I hadn’t told her everything yet, I prayed that by giving her all this history, she’d see the real me. Hopefully, she’d see through the fucked-up layers that blanketed my soul, and maybe she’d accept that what happened to Ashley had been an unfortunate accident.