Listed: Volume II (7 page)

The
girl men might actually want.

She’d
finished her steak—which might have been the best piece of meat she’d ever
eaten—and was starting on her dark chocolate mousse when she felt an inexplicable
bubble of emotion rising in her throat.

Paul
was being light and charming like he’d been most of the day, and his demeanor
just strengthened the thrilling, surreal quality of the evening. He must have
noticed something on her face, though, because he halted the story he was
telling and peered at her closely. “What’s wrong?”

She
shook her head, feeling silly for her emotional response to the evening and
incapable of explaining it to him without feeling like an absolute idiot.

“Are
you sick?” His eyes scanned her face, looking urgent in a way they hadn’t all
day.

“No,”
she replied, trying to suppress a flash of annoyance. She wasn’t going to ruin
her fairy-tale evening by having an argument with Paul about his constant
inquiries about her health. “I’m fine. I was just having a good time.”

He
seemed like he wanted to question her more, but the manager came over then to
ask them how their meal was. The manager was a young, attractive brunette—like
Laura or the models Paul used to date—and she definitely seemed to have noticed
his appeal.

She
stayed for a while to chat, ostensibly with both of them, but her eyes rarely
made their way over to the other side of the table. Emily definitely didn’t
miss the way the woman checked out both Paul’s ring finger and Emily’s.

Emily
felt a ridiculous vindication at the flicker of disappointment in the woman’s
eyes at discovering Paul was married. It was such a petty feeling that Emily
tried not to indulge it, but she’d never been someone other women were jealous
of.

Paul
was polite and friendly with the manager, but after a few minutes he said, “We
better get going soon.  Are you ready, Emily?”

Then,
when they stood up to leave, he put his hand on the small of her back as they
walked out.

Emily
decided she better go the bathroom at the restaurant, in case the theater
restrooms were crowded. After she’d gone and then washed her hands, she stared
at herself in the mirror, almost not recognizing the elegant, sensual woman she
saw there. Even her ass didn't look too bad.

She
knew Paul was waiting, so she didn’t linger to admire her gorgeousness more
than a minute.

Paul
wasn’t waiting right outside, so she walked toward the entrance of the
restaurant. She paused as she turned a corner and saw him talking with the
brunette manager again.

The
woman was tall, slim, and darkly gorgeous—and she was now flirting big-time
with Paul. Emily could see it immediately in the kinds of smiles, hair tosses,
and slanted glances the woman was throwing at him.

Paul
was smiling back, with his eyes as well as his mouth.

Emily
stood frozen as she watched. First, she was flooded with a wave of furious
possessiveness. Paul was
her
husband, and that bitch was making a play
for him.

Her
initial reaction didn’t last long, though. Emily wasn’t a fool. She knew Paul
didn't belong to her. He cared about her—more now than he had a month ago—but
he never would have married her under normal circumstances. He never would have
even gone out with her.

He
wasn't really hers.

Emily
turned on her heel and hurried back to the restroom. Stared back into the
mirror and made herself face the truth.

She
wasn’t really that woman. She was just Emily, and she’d always known what it
meant to be one of the Emilys of the world.

Paul
was being incredibly generous in giving her a wonderful end to her life, but
she had to keep the reality in perspective. She was allowed to enjoy the
daydreams, as long as she didn’t believe they were real.

It
would only lead to this kind of kick in the gut when the fuzziness finally
cleared.

It
always cleared eventually.

Emily
had never been the girl that men wanted, and that wasn’t going to change now.

Her
fairy-tale prom with Chris had ended without even a kiss. Her fairy-tale
wedding had ended with her husband refusing to have sex with her. And her
fairy-tale evening of being sexy and sophisticated would end with her husband
flirting with the kind of woman he really liked.

Story
of her life.

She
just wasn’t destined for the happy ending.

Her
shoulders shook with a few helpless sobs, but she stifled them almost
immediately.

It
didn’t matter. It didn't
matter
. She still had good things left to look
forward to. She was going to see
Henry V
tonight. She was going to see
the Pyramids tomorrow.

Ultimately
it wouldn't matter since she only had a couple of months left to be anyone at
all.

She
took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, feeling more like herself. She’d
always been tough. She’d always taken care of herself. There was no reason that
had to change.

She
was about to leave the bathroom when the beautiful manager came in.

“Oh,
hi,” the woman said, with a smile that looked a little fake. “I told him you
were probably just redoing your makeup, but your husband was worried for some
reason and wanted me to check on you.”

Emily
blinked. “Oh. I’m fine. I’m coming.”

She
followed the woman out of the restroom to find Paul pacing in the hall. When he
saw her, he took three strides over and searched her face in concern. He must
have been looking for signs of illness, but he evidently saw something else.

“You’ve
been crying. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,”
she replied with a bright smile. “Sorry I took so long.”

“Emily,”
Paul persisted, a warning note in his voice.

“I’m
fine,” Emily forced out between clenched teeth, flushing hotly at having this
conversation in front of the gorgeous woman who’d been flirting with him.
“Nothing’s wrong.”

Paul
looked like he would argue, but then he noticed the manager too. He took
Emily’s arm, although his grip was tighter than civility called for, and walked
them out of the restaurant.

Emily
fought to keep her expression neutral, although her emotions were a confused,
tumultuous jumble. As they were waiting on the sidewalk for the car to pull up,
she noticed Paul searching her face again.

He
was worried about her. She could see it in the urgency of his eyes, the tension
in his features. He thought she was sick or grieving—not moping because no one
had ever really thought she was pretty.

For
some reason, that thought pushed her into tears again. She turned her face away
from Paul so he wouldn’t see her contorting her features in an attempt to
stifle the sobs.

Evidently,
he saw it anyway. He sucked in a harsh breath, and his hand tightened on her
arm. She could feel the intensity pulsing from him, but he waited until they’d
gotten into the car to ask her again.

He
didn’t really ask. He demanded, “Tell me what the hell is wrong.”

“Nothing,”
she said over the painful lump in her throat. “I’m not sick. I’m really not.”

“Something
is wrong. Stop lying to me.” He grabbed her face in one of his warm hands and
turned it so it was facing him. “Tell me what upset you so much.”

She
thought frantically, trying to come up with something, anything, to tell him.
There was just no way she could tell him the truth.  “It’s…it’s nothing. I
was just having a good evening. And…and I started to think about…about being
sick.”  She improvised as she stumbled through an explanation and hoped it
would be convincing.

The
truth was she was doing her best to forget that she was sick at all. If she
thought about it, she couldn’t fully enjoy her final months—so she kept forcing
the bleak reality to the back of her mind.

Paul
didn’t have to know that, though.

He
dropped his hand from her face, and his intensity softened. His eyes were
narrowed as he studied her, though, as if he wasn’t entirely convinced. He
didn’t say anything. Just watched her.

She
looked away, since his eyes were too penetrating. Gazing out the window at the
crowded street, she stammered, “I’m sorry I took so long. But…but you looked
occupied, so I figured it would…it would be all right if…”

“What?”
Paul interrupted.

Emily
blinked over at him, trying to think through her broken rambles. “
What
what?”

“What
do you mean I looked occupied?”

She
suddenly realized her mistake. She never would have slipped so foolishly if she
hadn’t still been fighting lingering tears. “Nothing. I meant nothing.”

“Emily,”
he said, his voice thick and intimidating.

She
could have held out. She was strong enough to put her foot down, even with Paul
Marino. But, for some reason, she heard herself saying, “It’s nothing. I just
meant you were talking to that woman, so I thought—”

“Damn
it, Emily. Did you actually think I was hitting on her?”

“No.
No. I mean, even if you were, that would be all right. I know we’re not—”

Paul
was really angry now—angrier than she’d seen him since the night she’d tried to
sneak out of the apartment. “What kind of man do you think I am?” he broke into
her garbled explanation. “You really think I would hook up with another woman
while my wife was in the bathroom?”

“No,”
she mumbled, staring down at her twisting hands. “I didn’t mean that. I know
you’re not the kind of guy who would cheat on his wife. But, since we’re not
really married, I would understand if—”

Paul
grabbed her left hand with his left hand and displayed the rings in a rough,
frustrated gesture. “We are married. For whatever reason, we
are
married. I’m not going to cheat on you.”

Emily
stared at their rings, the platinum band on his long, masculine finger and her
rings on her much smaller hand.

The
sight had pleased her earlier in the evening, feeding into the daydream she was
indulging. But now it seemed more real, more strange, more inexplicable. It made
her chest hurt.

“Didn’t
you know that before?” Paul asked, his voice still gravelly. “Didn't you know I
wasn't going to sleep around? What kind of man do you think I am?”

“I
did know,” she said in a rush, feeling a wave of intense guilt because she’d never
meant to insult him but somehow still had. “I know you aren't that kind of
man.”

Just
a couple of months ago, she would have said he was.

“But
you were crying in the bathroom. You must have thought…” Paul trailed off,
leaving the thought unfinished.

“No,
no, no. I wasn’t crying because I thought you were making plans for a sleazy
affair. I just…I mean, I was upset because…I was just enjoying feeling
like…like someone else, and then I was kind of hit by the reminder that
I’m…that I’m not.”

“You
aren’t what?” The resentment and impatience had faded from his face during her
halting attempt to explain, and he looked more thoughtful than anything else
now.

She
gave a long sigh and leaned back against the seat of the car, closing her eyes
as she admitted the truth. “I’m not the girl who gets the guy that everyone
wants.”

The
silence following her words stretched on so long that Emily realized how Paul
might have misinterpreted her words. Her eyes flew open, and she saw Paul
staring at her blankly. She said, “Not that I was thinking it was romantic
between us or anything.  I’m not crazy. I wasn’t
ever
thinking
that. I was just having fun pretending I was the girl everyone envies because…
because she’s got the best guy.”

She
was so mortified by having told Paul the truth that she dropped her face into
her hands and tried to breathe.

After
a minute, she realized Paul still hadn’t answered. When she looked up, she saw
he was still gazing at her with the strangest expression.

“Paul,
I’m so sorry,” she said, the words cracking in her throat. She reached over and
put her hand on his sleeve. “I really wasn’t thinking that you were going to
cheat on me. I was just thinking that maybe you…you’d prefer to be with the
kind of woman you really like. And that just got me going with some old
issues.” She attempted a dry laugh, although it was more of a snuffle. “You’d
think that dying would put your issues in perspective, but I can’t seem to
shake some of them.”

When
he still didn’t answer, she asked, “Are you really mad at me?”

“No,”
Paul said at last. “I’m not mad. I think I…understand.”

Emily
collapsed back against the seat, feeling like an absolute fool but relieved
that she hadn’t ruined her friendship with Paul. To her surprise, he reached
over and pulled her against his side, the weight of his arm around her warm and
incredibly comforting. He smelled like Paul, so she breathed him in.