Before I could tell her no, Grams stepped in. “She’s not at her best, Gwen. However, I certainly think you could remedy that. Why don’t you head on up?” She gracefully took the pan. “Thank you for thinking of us.”
Mrs. Barton removed her hat, gloves, and coat, hanging them on the pegs like she had countless times since she’d become Mom’s friend. Her kind smile and casual greeting told me all I needed to know. Riley hadn’t told her. “Let’s see if I can’t get her cleaned up a bit. Oh, and Riley’s just finishing up a phone call and then he’ll be in.”
Crap. Shit. Fuck.
Grams’s astute eyes caught my panic. “Why don’t you put this in the refrigerator, Ember?” she drawled.
I nodded and retreated. What the hell could he want? I was pretty sure we’d left everything in Breckenridge. I slid the lasagna onto the refrigerator shelf and heard his deep, remorseful voice behind me as I shut the door. “Hey, Ember.”
“Riley.” I turned slowly, gripping the granite of the island.
He looked perfect as always: his blond hair was windswept and the blue of his vest matched his eyes. Lying, traitorous, cheating eyes. “We need to talk.”
“Pretty sure we don’t.”
He walked toward me, and I skirted to the right, keeping the island between us.
“I’m so sorry, babe. I didn’t know you were coming up.”
“That’s your excuse?” I whispered through clenched teeth. I didn’t need Grams hearing this. She thought Riley was a perfect gentleman.
“I never meant to hurt you!”
“Oh, you didn’t mean to fuck my best friend for a year?” Okay, now I was yelling. The coffee cup sliding across the bar in front of the sink told me Grams had heard it. A quick look confirmed, and warm blood rushed to my cheeks. I’d never sworn in front of her. I was about to get it.
Her eyes darted between Riley and me before settling on a graceful smile. “I think I’ll head on upstairs and check the bathroom. I just heard there’s some trash that needs taking out.” With a pointed look at Riley, but not another word, she left us alone.
“Lower your voice. My mom is upstairs!”
“Good, maybe she’ll find out what an asshole her son is!”
He tore his hands through his hair, messing up his not-so-casually-made casual style. “It was an accident.” I scoffed, but he kept talking. “No, really! The first time you were gone, and we were both lonely, and drunk, and it just happened.”
“And it just kept happening?” It was his turn to flush. “Yeah. You know what’s even worse? You could sleep with her, but you couldn’t bear to touch me, no matter how many times I asked you to! God, I must have looked so fucking desperate to you, and the whole time you were screwing Kayla!” I focused on my rage, the accelerated beat of my heart, because if I looked to see where it was cracked and bleeding, I wouldn’t make it through this.
“I . . .” He slammed his hands onto the granite. “Damn it! I wanted to sleep with you, but I couldn’t; it would have ruined my plan—our plan. You’re the girl I’m going to marry. It had to be perfect!”
Going to, my ass. “And Kayla was perfect? You make zero sense.”
“Kayla was easy, available, and a mistake. You are everything I’ve built my future on. I wasn’t risking that by sleeping with you.”
“Risk what? This isn’t feudal England. Sex doesn’t ruin a girl for marriage any more than it’s ruined you.”
He gripped the countertop, his knuckles turning white. “We agreed to wait until marriage.”
“You! You were going to wait! I never wanted to!”
“Is that what this is about? Because I’ll take you upstairs right now if that makes you happy.” He threw out his arm in the direction of the staircase.
“If you think I’d let you near me—” The phone rang. Its shrill tone pulled me out of the downward spiral my emotions were taking. “Saved by the bell,” I muttered and picked up. “Hello?”
“June Howard?” Oh, crap. I knew that voice. Mrs. Angelo from the attendance office at the high school.
I put on my best June Howard impression. “Yes.” Mom was in no condition to talk, and I was in no mood to explain the situation to the freaking school. Things were a mess enough already.
“Ma’am, this is Mrs. Angelo from Cheyenne Mountain High School.”
“Mrs. Angelo, good afternoon!”
“I’m so sorry to bother you at this time, but will April be returning to us this semester?”
“I’m sorry?” Crap, my impression might have slipped there.
“We haven’t seen April back yet. Is she ready to return? I’m so sorry to hear about your loss. We’re just trying to keep track of her.” Sympathy dripped from her voice.
Crap. Crap. Craptastic crap. “Absolutely, I’m so sorry. Excuse her for me, would you? I’ll make sure she’s ready tomorrow.” April was going to fry for this one.
“Absolutely, Mrs. Howard. Have a nice day.”
The click sounded the end of the call, and I put the phone back on its charging deck. Riley was still there, staring, and just like that, the fight drained out of me. “I don’t want anything to do with you, Riley. We’re done.”
“I love you, Ember.” Was that panic crawling into his eyes?