Page 10 of Free to Believe
Without thinking, I answer, “Three, four months ago. Why?”
The huge smile that crosses her face should give me warning that what’s going to come out of her mouth is going to be completely inappropriate. Instead, I stupidly take a sip of wine and almost choke when she says, “Jesus, Em. If I’d known that, I would have given you batteries for your vibrator on your birthday instead of a gift card to the fabric store.”
“Get out of here!” I sputter. Corinna winks before she makes her way out the door. But she does bring up an excellent point. I won’t regret being able to find someone who stimulates me sexually a hell of a lot more than Bryan did in bed.
My smile fading, I turn back to capturing what will soon be my past on a sketch pad that already holds so many memories of it. I settle more comfortably on my chaise. Mugsy stirs at my feet. People throw the word love around when it comes to the emotions between a man and a woman like it’s the blessed balm to soothe any hurt. Right—I snort a little in my glass before I freeze.
No, Em, I chide myself.It’s okay to be yourself again. You don’t have to be someone else’s perfect answer anymore. Not that you ever were.
It’s amazing what guilt and extreme gratitude can lead you to. I met Bryan because he performed a life-saving operation on Corinna. Afterward, he swept me off my feet by laying a hell of a kiss on me in front of my whole family. Shock, charm, and disarm.
He’s used the tactic many times since we’ve been together. It’s what made outsiders think we were bound for a lifetime of happiness. Rolling my eyes, I keep drawing in the details of the picture I was working on before Cori walked in the room. Yet, I know if I continue down this path, I would be bound for a life sentence in a prison I can’t escape. Even something as important as sex in a relationship as new as ours is so mediocre, it hasn’t happened in months. I’m grateful I don’t have to lie there pretending an interest while he pumps away and leaves me hanging.
I guess my need for a family to call my own outweighed my common sense.
Long ago, Cori drunkenly suggested she, Holly, and I get married and become sister wives. When Holly—equally drunk—asked about the sex, Cori said vibrators were our answer. They don’t know how prophetic their words were. I’ve gotten off more to my vibrator in the time I’ve been with Bryan than I have to the man himself.
I add details to my sketch only I would remember: the way Bryan’s fists turn white when he’s frustrated, the way his jaw clenches, the way his eyes narrow. I can’t quite capture the way his jaw ticks, nor can I capture the initial bite down of his teeth.
Laying aside the charcoal and the sketchbook when I’m done, I close my eyes. I can see the scene I drew in my head so clearly. It was a few months ago. I’d spent the night at the vet with Mugsy, and Bryan had been livid I didn’t put him down at that time.
I reach for my phone. Before I can think about it, I shoot off a text to Bryan.We need to talk. As soon as possible.Before I can think about it, I hit Send. Shivering, I reach down and stroke my baby’s ears. “We’ll see if he responds, Mugs,” I say as I drift off to sleep.
Not long after my dreams begin, I can hear my Aunt Dee whisper to me, “If you believe in yourself, Emily, you can survive anything.” I just wish I could.
Believe.
The thing is, I believe. I believe in a promise I made by Dee’s graveside. And I’ll hold steadfast to it as long as I can.
With the diamond lying on my desk and my heart unburdened, I dream of brilliant gowns that are flooded in red.
6
Emily
The next morning, I jolt awake still in the same clothes from yesterday. On the rare occasion this happens, I expect to see one of my siblings, like Phil or Cass. I certainly don’t expect to see all of my siblings, each one of them wearing expressions ranging from disgust to abject fury.
Oh no. This can’t be good.
“What happened?” I ask warily. I sit up bracing myself for whatever blow they’re about to deliver.
“Do you have any wine around here?” Corinna asks, as she searches my studio for the wine I keep on hand for prospective brides.
“Screw the wine, Cori. She might need the whiskey for this,” Ali counters. Brushing past me, she drops a kiss on my cheek. Of all my adopted sisters, we’re the two who most closely resemble each other. But that’s where our similarities end. While we’re both blonde-haired and blue-eyed, Ali is outspoken and opinionated where I’m often introspective and contemplative. It makes her an exceptional attorney and an even better advocate for our family.
“Might? I think you’re being kind, Ali,” Phil drawls. He wraps his arms around me and squeezes me hard.
“Which is why what we have to tell you is utterly infuriating.” Cassidy comes up next to us just in time to hear Phil’s comment. In her hands is theDarien Timesnewspaper. “You might want to lie back down for this.”
Still sitting on my chaise, Phil drops on one side of me, Cassidy the other. Ali slides into her usual spot against the wall. Holly and Corinna collapse against the heap of floor pillows I have around the room. Mugsy ambles over toward them. “What’s happened? Did we get a bad review or something?” I nod, the paper clutched in Cassidy’s hands.
Ali’s comment of “Tell her what a raging bastard he really is. She deserves to know” sets clanging off inside my head. The last time she had that vicious look on her face, she was trying to protect Cassidy from Keene—her husband who happens to be Cassidy’s biological brother—whose less than stellar behavior as he assimilated himself to finding his long-lost sister left our family with a huge rift.
I shift toward Corinna, who looks ready to commit murder. Her hands are clenched so tightly in her lap, her knuckles are white. “What? Is it Colby?” I demand. My nails scrape against my jeans.
I feel a large hand cover my right one. “No, sweetheart. It isn’t Colby.” Phil’s face is filled with a combination of barely leashed anger and an overwhelming sympathy.
“Oh, for God’s sake. Just give her the paper so she knows what kind of asshole she’s engaged to,” Holly snaps. “Once again, a picture is worth a thousand words.”
