Page 7 of Blurred Lines

"We need you here."

"Okay," I reply after a beat. "I'll be there."

With a sigh, I turn back to Mikey.

"Mikey," I say, my voice steady, "pour me a double Negroni."

As I relish the heat uncurling in my stomach, I book a flight back home to Emberton.

3

EMILY

The old Chevy coughs beneath me, engine rattling in protest with each mile.

Havenford shrinks in the rearview mirror, a smudge of neon against the encroaching twilight. Mom's house is at the edge of town, a beacon I don't want to follow. Should've kept this trip a surprise. Now I'm in for it.

The sea—more of a giant brackish lake, really—cuts across my path. City lights on the far shore dip and dance like fireflies.

Each flicker tightens the knot in my gut. Mom still has the power to twist me up inside, even after all these years.

Her porch light snaps on the second I kill the engine. The door bangs open before my boots hit the cracked concrete.

"Emily, darling!" Mom barrels down the steps, arms wide. A familiar mix of warmth and guilt floods me. Why couldn't it just be warmth?

She envelops me in a hug, her floral perfume swirling into a nauseating cloud. "My girl! I was so surprised when you called. You hardly visit!"

I pull away, my practiced smile as stiff as my spine. "Just wanted to drop by for a quick visit. Don't fuss, Ma."

Her eyes search mine. "Is everything alright?" Mom always could slice through my flimsy acts.

The kitchen beckons, its sweet baking scent a trap. Dinner will be on the table in ten minutes, followed by pleading eyes and questions I don't have answers to. My flight leaves in two hours. I can't do this. Not tonight.

"Listen, Ma, I can't stay. Need to get to the airport."

The pan she's holding clatters into the sink. "The airport? What on earth for?"

"It's … important. I'll tell you later, okay?" I try to soften the blow, but my words hang like stones in the sudden silence.

She stares at me, the lines around her eyes deepening. "Emily, honey, please. Just tell me?—"

"It can wait, Ma. Seriously." I brush past her, desperate to escape the accusing scent of vanilla and burnt sugar.

"Wait for what, Emily?" Her voice quivers, catching me at the door. "Will you ever forgive me?"

"There's nothing to forgive," I snap back. But it's a lie we both see through.

"If you will just tell me …" she trails off, her voice breaking.

"Fine," I angrily hurl the words at her. "Dad's dead, Mom. I know you religiously avoid the news because you don't want any updates about Emberton or him, but there it is. And you're invited to the funeral, in case you want to go."

Mom blinks. I hate that I've done this to her, that it has come to this. But the memories don't help. "I'm sorry about the news," she finally says, her face suddenly inscrutable. "I hope you find peace."

I exhale, counting numbers in my head in an effort to calm myself. "Mom, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it to come out that way?—"

"But it did," she cuts me off, a humorless smile appearing on her lips. "And I can't say I don't deserve it. I wish I could go, Emily. But I'm not crazy. In fact, I hope you know what you're getting into."

I do. My stepmother Verona and half-brother Alec are all but waiting to rip me apart at my father's estate.

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