I wondered if I went far enough, if I’d be taken, too.
She clamped her eyes shut and gasped at the impact of recalling Vanni telling her about his dangerous, fate-tempting swims. She recalled his tired cynicism and hopelessness when she’d first witnessed him with Astrid. He carried such a heavy emotional burden with him always. The news about Cristina could so easily be the straw that broke the camel’s back.
No. She couldn’t allow it.
After taking a moment to compose herself, Emma straightened and slowly walked out of the garage.
She suddenly had an inkling of how Vanni must have felt all of these years, numbing off the heart and taking one difficult, reluctant step at a time into an empty, cold future.
Chapter Forty
His hand was throbbing with pain, but still, he beat on the door with it. Suddenly, the wood was no longer there and he was beating on air. Amanda Shore was standing inside the threshold, looking panicked and furious.
“I’m about to call the police, Vanni.”
“Is she in there?” Vanni demanded, stepping over the threshold. Amanda stepped in front of him, blocking his way. He looked down and met her stare. He blinked and came to a halt. He realized—reluctantly—that she was a human being and not merely an obstacle to Emma. Amanda’s blue eyes looked fierce, but beneath her anger, he saw her worry.
“You can’t just come bursting in here, Vanni,” Amanda bit out. He took a step back. He’d been about to knock over a woman, for Christ’s sake.
“Why won’t she see me?” he asked. Despite his earlier recognition that he couldn’t force his way past Amanda, he kept his hand on the open door. He wasn’t walking away, damn it. How was it possible that he’d last seen and touched a soft, warm woman who was as eager for his presence as he was for hers, and suddenly be faced with an Emma who was telling him she’d decided not to see him again? It didn’t compute in his short-circuiting brain.
When he’d arrived home at the Breakers an hour later than his scheduled flight, he’d found it empty. He’d immediately tried to call Emma, assuming she hadn’t received the messages he’d left on her voicemail or the one he’d left with Vera that he’d be late. He’d reached her by phone, but what she’d said in her uncharacteristically cold, flat voice was still being rejected by his spirit wholeheartedly.
After France, she’d decided that it was too painful to continue seeing him.
Had she been planning on walking away when they’d kissed good-bye that last time in his bedroom at La Mer? No. That truth hadn’t been on her lips or tongue or in her warm, supple body pressing against his.
What was his truth when it came to Emma? He only knew he didn’t want to let her go. Life without Emma? Could he go back, once he’d known her indescribable warmth, her sweetness and touch?
He suspected he must, at some point. He feared it. Needing her was such a horrible, sweet risk. The only thing he knew for certain was that there, in that moment, the thought of losing her was like having his lungs ripped out of his chest.
“What’s happened to her? It doesn’t make any sense,” he told Amanda angrily.
“Really?” Amanda asked sharply.
He stilled and peered at Emma’s sister. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Amanda crossed her arms at her waist and drew herself up, giving him a very hard look. He’d never been a huge fan of Amanda, given what she and that jerk Colin Atwater had done to Emma, but at that moment, he saw a resemblance between Amanda and her sister.
“Emma told me what you proposed: an affair of a purely sexual nature. She told me all about it.” He felt himself withering a little under Amanda’s condemning, disgusted gaze, but he didn’t flinch. “You proposed something like that? To a woman like Emma?”
“That’s only how it started out,” he bit out.
“You’re right. That’s how it started out, but it’s not how it ended. Not for Emma. She’s not built like that. Surely, despite your . . . cold-blooded plans for her, you must have realized she’s not cut out for this kind of thing.”
“That’s rich,” he said with quiet, building, helpless fury. “You preaching to me about not being sensitive enough to Emma.”
Amanda paled. Regret and helplessness swept through him in equal measure. “Damn it, Amanda, just let me see her. I know I can clear this up.”
“How? By professing your undying love for her? By promising her you’ll always be there for her?” He met her stare, a snarl shaping his lips. In his unguarded state, her pointed words had felt like piercing missiles. Amanda’s eyes closed for a moment. “I’m sorry, Vanni. I know that you care about her, in your way.” She opened her eyes. “A person would have to be a complete robot not to care about Emma, right? But I saw when she came home tonight. She was . . . beyond belief. I’ve never see her like that before.”
Her trembling voice still ringing in his ears, Vanni started to walk past her again, intent only on one thing: seeing Emma.
Amanda was suddenly in front of him, looking royally pissed. “She’s not even here!”
He came to another halt, helplessness and fury now boiling inside him. “I pleaded your case to her before, Vanni, when you called me while you were in France. That was before I knew what you proposed to her. That was before I understood that you aren’t capable of offering her more. Unless you’re prepared to say you’ve completely changed your tune about that, unless you can give more of yourself to her than that selfish crap you dribbled out to her, I want you to turn around and go!”
The silence was deafening.