Page 16 of King of Guilt

We returned to reality at the table to find that dad was already through with his third drink, happy as a clam.

The rest of the dinner went peacefully, uneventfully, and I was grateful to the universe for that.

As we were about to leave the restaurant, and in a clear effort to show my dad that we were, indeed, a happy couple, Dean helped me put on my coat at the door. As he pulled my lapels together to offer me warmth, he inched closer—quickly but ever so deliberately—and kissed me tenderly on the forehead.

Lucky for my knees that wanted nothing to do with carrying my weight, the car was right outside, waiting for us.

eight

Uncharted Territory

Dean

We arrived at home after Helen had retired to her residence in the attached villa across the garden. Since we were all alone, there was no need for pretenses. Going upstairs, we wished each other a good night, and Emma thanked me for indulging her father. As she spoke, her eyes were in a daze, as if she were somewhere else entirely.

In my bedroom, I took off my clothes, welcoming the fatigue that would promise me some uninterrupted shuteye. I heard movement outside and went to check, only to catch a glimpse of Emma from the back in a long silk robe. She was walking barefoot with a full bottle of whiskey in one hand and a glass in the other. She didn’t see me, and went straight into the guest living room, closing the door behind her.

Climbing into bed, I felt a sting of sympathy for the woman who never seemed to complain. The evening with her father had revealed hints of a strained relationship, and the unexpected exchange with her ex must have taken its toll on her.

As I lied there on my back, surrounded by darkness, my eyes began to acclimate, and I began to see the familiar shadows on the ceiling. Outlines of the trees in my garden. The silver glow of the moon.

And my solitude.

For an hour, I tossed and turned between the sheets with no hope of sleep. Finally, I decided to get up and check on Emma. In the hallway, I could still see the dim, warm light glowing through from under the door. Thinking that she might have fallen asleep on the sofa, I carefully opened the door, peeking in. My eyes immediately met hers when she turned to me, and her tired smile greeted my gaze. She was curled up in the corner of the sofa with her legs bent underneath her. Her robe was slightly open, revealing parts of her lacey nightgown in pale cream. “Come on in,” she said, pulling the silk fabric to cover herself. “Can’t sleep?”

I shook my head before eyeing the bottle next to her, now nearly a quarter of it gone. “Want to share that?”

Her giggle came as frail as her eyelids seemed as they resisted gravity. “It’s yours.” Leaning forward, she was readying to get up.

“No, no.” I quickly stepped in, rushing toward the cabinet. “I’ll get a glass.”

She leaned back, pulling her legs under her once again. Without any makeup on, she looked almost heavenly, like she had hailed from another dimension—a purer, more serene existence. Although I knew that nothing about her mind carried that sort of tranquility tonight.

After pouring myself a drink, I sat in the armchair at an angle from the sofa, facing her. “What’s with the drowning-my-sorrows vibe?

She smirked, staring at the half empty glass between her fingers. “Such a cliché, huh?”

“Who am I to judge?” I gave her a boyish look, shaking my own glass in the air. “Seriously, though. What’s wrong? I’m guessing seeing your ex brought back bad memories.”

“Oh,” she drew it out with a sigh, throwing back her head until it rested on the backrest. “Bad is an understatement.” She then flung her head back down, looking at me. “But we don’t need to talk about that.”

“Come on, Emma. Everybody needs to vent sometimes.”

“Look who’s talking!” She let out a sharp, snappy laugh before taking a sip of her plain whiskey.

“You’ve experienced your fair share of gloom out of me without the need to speak. Now it’s your turn.”

Gazing ahead, she fixed her eyes on a painting on the wall in front of her and slowly licked her lips, as if contemplating whether or not she should divulge her feelings to me. A moment later, she scratched the side of her head and clicked her tongue. “Okay, so, uh—Kyle is a sex addict. Well…” She waved a hand and a lock of her hair flew about with it. “Used to be, if we can assume he’s telling the truth about recovering.”

“Oh.” I sat back, my eyes paying close attention to the expression on her face. “That must’ve been difficult.”

She shrugged, flashing a girlish grin. “At first, I thought he was fun. So fun, so in love that he couldn’t keep his hands off me.” Her smile soon faded. “But then it all got far too ugly way too fast.” She took another sip, furrowing her eyebrows as if that one burned her throat. “Late nights when he would return to find me sleeping… he had no qualms starting before I could even open my eyes.”

My eyes, on the other hand, began to grow wider.

“Soon enough, I wasn’t even allowed to say no. To say no simply meant that he had to do it himself.”

“My God, Emma.”

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