Page 7 of King of Guilt

Once we settled in the suite, Emma took care of ordering me breakfast, since I didn’t have the stomach to eat before we left the house. She even demanded that my orange juice was to be “freshly squeezed and not yesterday’s leftovers.” I nearly laughed at our day’s spending, which was enough to put a student through four years of college.

When I received a call from my uncle—my mother’s brother flying back from a diplomatic trip in Rome—I had to leave the room. When I returned, and just as I approached the door, I overheard my mom speaking to Emma.

“He’s a gentle soul that’s also powerful, like a warrior,” my mother said. I smiled, knowing that it was her obsession with ancient mythology talking. “Sure, he’s a little bit brooding, and sometimes gets lost in his philosophy books, psychological fiction, and his own thoughts. But he always comes back… but you must already know that, dear.”

“I know,” Emma lied in a tender voice. “And none of that bothers me.”

“Sometimes he gets dark, so dark that I worry—”

“I’m here. You don’t need to worry anymore.”

“The loss of his father at such a young age made him question everything.”

“And that’s only natural. But see, Pearl, your son is brilliant. See what he did with the company and still does? The name he’s built for himself? Those are not the actions of a broken man. Like you said, he’s a warrior. A survivor.”

“And he needs your love, more than he may be willing to say.”

“I—I know. And it’s here. I’m here. You just focus on getting better for his sake.”

“I don’t want this to break him the way his father’s death did.”

“Dean isn’t broken, Pearl.” Emma paused. “He may be just… a little misunderstood. But he’s not broken. He’s one of the kindest, most compassionate men I know.”

“And it eats at his mind.”

“You need to stop worrying, Pearl. I believe that’s my job now.” My mother let out an airy laugh as she patted Emma’s hand lovingly, one I hadn’t heard in a while.

“Promise me that you’ll always keep him grounded. Remind him of the beautiful things in life. Show him that love is real and good… and that it can last forever.”

“I—”

“Promise me, Emma. I may not have the chance to speak with you about this again.”

“Please don’t say that.”

“Why is it so hard for you to promise?”

Emma humored a moment of silence before I heard her say, “I—I will, Pearl. I promise. I’ll keep him grounded. I’ll remind him of the beautiful things in life. I’ll make sure he believes that love is real… and good… and that it can last forever.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” her tone finally carried some relief.

My eyes welled up, but not because of what my mother said; she had said all those things to me before. It was Emma’s outstanding ability to switch up the words without changing them at all in order to put my mom’s mind at ease while sparing herself a lie. That was what amazed me.

It was a dangerous skill—a superpower, of sorts. It struck me that I had worked with that woman for nearly three years without ever noticing that talent in her.

When they finally came to take mom to the operating room, we walked alongside her all the way until we were no longer allowed. As they closed the door, Emma turned to me and placed her hand on my arm, gently rubbing it for a second before we walked back to the lounge together.

Alone in there, and knowing that we had at least two hours to kill, I watched Emma dip her hand into the large duffel bag she had brought, pulling out a classic flask.

Tossing my head to the side in disappointment, I moaned, “What’s this?”

“This.” She came closer, leaning over my untouched glass of juice and pouring a little bit of the clear liquid in. “Is for your nerves.” Towering over me, she extended her hand with the glass, holding it in front of my face. “Nobody needs to know.”

A sarcastic smile curved my lips as I accepted my beverage, looking away. “Great. Now you think I have a problem.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” she quickly said. “But given all of this, Dean…” She sat down on the sofa next to me, shifting to face me. “God only knows what the past week’s been like for you. But I know what yesterday was like. And last night. And now. You owe it to yourself to relax a little bit. Two hours won’t just fly by when you’re worrying like this.”

“And you think this is going to solve it?” I took a sip, maintaining my ridiculous smile. “You’re just like my mom.”

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