Killian
My gut tightened as I watched Dev move next to Emily and start talking with her. What was he saying? Probably nothing about the orgy he’d invited every band mate to last year. That had been embarrassing. And resulted in over a hundred thousand dollars in damage at the hotel because some of the girls who’d attended got out of control. Devlin was totally over Ashley, but he’d been hooking up with more and more unsuitable women even though he could do a lot better. It was as though he was purposely trying to avoid a situation where he might fall for a woman he was with.
The urge to quit cleaning up and evict him and his harem swelled. I hadn’t wanted to invite him or the girls in for breakfast. If Abby hadn’t shown up, I would’ve told them to go feed themselves somewhere else, because I was still annoyed about the way my morning with Emily had been ruined.
But Abby smiled at the girls like they were wondrous, mythical creatures, and I hadn’t had the heart to kick them out. And if I asked them to get out now, that would make me look like a dick. I was experienced enough to know that pissing off the mother of a woman I liked was a terrible idea.
“I can’t believe Emily’s dating a rock star!” Abby’s voice shook, her eyes still wide and bright. “She never even hinted.”
“Really?” Emily had thought I was a pest trying to steal her ice cream and shatter her peace and quiet, but wouldn’t she have had a chance to tell her mom about me? Or tell everyone, for that matter? Every woman I’d dated since the band’s breakout hit had bragged everywhere about dating me.
My reactions used to range from mild irritation to outright hate, depending on the result of such bragging. But now I was annoyed Emily hadn’t said anything about me to somebody as important as her mother.
Inconsistent, but there it was.
“She didn’t know who I was when we first met,” I said, as I took the plate she handed to me and loaded it into the dishwasher. For some bizarre reason, I didn’t want Abby to think Emily hadn’t mentioned me because I wasn’t important enough.
“She didn’t?” Abby straightened. “Well, she isn’t into music.”
“Yeah, she told me.”
A soft sigh. “It’s Brandon’s fault.”
Brandon? Some ex-boyfriend, or…?
Abby saw my expression. “Her father. My husband.”
“Oh, okay. He doesn’t like music either?” I asked cautiously, not wanting to trigger another bout of crying. Consoling a woman who was sobbing over a cheating husband was beyond my experience.
“Oh, he loves music. That’s why she stopped listening to it. That’s also why she eats junk food rather than cooking for herself.”
I remembered how competent Emily had been in the kitchen when she made me the scampi. And how much she’d enjoyed herself at karaoke night. She’d never said anything about her dad, but I already hated the man for being a cheater and the cause of Emily giving up things she liked. When a man had a family, he had responsibilities—to nurture, to provide and to protect. Emily’s dad apparently hadn’t done any of that.
“He isn’t a great husband…or father, frankly.” Abby sounded a little sad. “He only supports Emily when she does what he wants her to, what makes him look good. He
was so proud when she got into Harvard. Then he was furious when she graduated and told him she was going to be a romance writer. Apparently he’d told all his buddies she was going to work for Goldman Sachs.”
My mind conjured up Emily working. Her hair a little messy. An old T-shirt. Yoga pants. Candy wrappers and cracker bags everywhere. Muttering to herself more often than not.
Probably not a Goldman Sachs look.
“But he should be happy with how she’s doing,” I said. “She’s a Wall Street Journal bestselling author. That’s a big deal. A huge accomplishment.”
Abby laughed, then shook her head. “That’s not success in his view. He loves to brag that Emily is successful because of him, and her writing ‘mommy porn’ isn’t what he had in mind. He’s determined to ensure she fails, so he can say, ‘I told you so.’ Emily and Brandon made a bet. She’s supposed to hit number one on Amazon within four years or she’s going to take out full-page ads in the Wall Street Journal, New York Times, USA Today and L.A. Times.”
“Ads? Saying what?” I asked, my mouth dry with something that felt like dread for Emily and loathing for her dad.
“She has to admit that her dad’s right—that romance is stupid and its readers are silly and she should’ve listened to him.”
What the hell? “That would ruin her career!” And she worked too damn hard to set fire to it like that.
“That’s the point,” Abby said, like it was par for the course. “He believes that it’ll make her rethink her career choice and force her into doing something more ego-boosting. For him, that is.”
What a dick. My hatred for Emily’s dad doubled. “But she doesn’t have to take out the ads for real, does she? Who’s going to make her?”
“There’s a lawyer with an escrow account with sufficient funds to cover the ads. She’s going to make sure.”
I ran a hand across my mouth. This was freakin’ serious. “So what happens if Emily does hit number one?”