I’ve been gone for three years, but it seems like no time at all. Emily’s grown up, she isn’t as shy as before, but she’ll always be my little rabbit. A part of me will always care for her.
For whatever reason, Emily was all business; quiet, and unusually reserved around him. Paul resolved to take her out to dinner, to see if he could snap her out of it. He’d let her talk about Tom, because he bet that’s what she was worried about. Hell, he’d even let her convince him to bury the hatchet.
Paul smiled. Whatever made her happy, that’s what he’d do. Home wasn’t a place, it was people.
For Paul, seeing Emily was like coming home.
Meanwhile, Jai loved it here. As it was summer, the weather was perfect. Jai waterskied on Devil’s Lake almost every day, and fucked Marilyn whenever she was available. Paul had returned the rental car, and had been driving his dad’s old Volvo. If he stayed much longer, he’d get a new set of wheels to save the excruciating embarrassment.
Looking at his list of things to do, he remembered the list of suppliers. He had a number of questions to ask Emily, to help him sort a few things out. Then he’d take her to lunch and let her talk. Women were always happier after they got to talk.
List in hand, Paul went to find her, starting at her office. He walked down the hall, and opened her door.
Chapter 32. Oops
Emily sat behind her desk. Her sweet face looked up at the sound as Paul walked in.
Dressed in a crisp white blouse, with a matching grey skirt and jacket, she looked very professional. When she saw it was him, the sincere smile she gave him was more welcoming than a cup of hot chocolate and an open fire on a cold winter’s day.
“Hey, rabbit,” he said with a big grin. Paul’s heart lightened to see her, even though he saw her every day at work. There was just something about Emily, he thought. She reminded him of summer vacations, roasting marshmallows, silly board games and the innocent happier times of childhood.
“How are you doing?”
“Pretty good, now that Tom is on the mend,” she said, her eyebrow quirking upward. Emily rocked back in her chair and studied his face, speculatively. “I’ve made a few decisions concerning buy-ins from the reps. Usually, I run these by your dad. Are you interested? Or are you too busy figuring out your own stuff?”
Paul grinned as a surprised male part of him naturally checked her out. The woman looked good in a skirt, she had great legs. His little rabbit was all grown up and self-assured. Paul knew that Emily had always given a hundred and ten percent. When had she become so competent? Or attractive?
“If you want to show me, I’ll look,” he said waving a hand at her airily. “But you know I trust your judgement. You can run this place better than I can with all the experience you’ve got.” Arms crossed, he sat down, hitching his hip on the side of her desk.
When he did, it shifted her purse, which immediately fell to the floor.
Emily jumped up, out of her chair. Paul leaned down. Emily virtually sprinted around her desk. They both reached for her bag at the same time. Somehow, its contents spilled all over the carpet: Lipstick, wallet, coins, hairbrush, mirror, phone and various other paraphernalia.
Paul didn’t notice any of that. He’d zeroed in on the pictures.
Breathless, Emily went to her knees, reaching for the spread of photographs. Paul’s long arms extended faster, and he quickly gathered them up. Ignoring the way she pawed at his shirt to gain height, he stood up and began to look through them.
Initially, Paul thought they were pictures of a hidden boyfriend, so he’d rushed to grab them first. Sneaky, secretive girl. Why was she hiding them? Would she blush with embarrassment? Wanting to tease her, he held them out of her reach, just like any other big brother would.
“Those are mine, give them to me!” Emily yelled and leaped for them, knocking into him.
Much taller and stronger, Paul easily fended her off, keeping them away from her. Emily pounded on his chest, frantically jumping and reaching. Desperately trying to grab them.
“C’mon, Paul, give them back!” she screeched, her voice high with hints of hysteria. He held her back easily, with one arm.
He became confused as he looked at the photos. Because these weren’t pictures of her boyfriend.
These are pictures of me!
The realization mentally halted him. Paul stood perfectly still, frozen in shock. His eyes focused on the details, but he refused to believe what he saw.
What the fuck?
In every picture, he was asleep. A bed sheet was pulled up to his waist, so at least they weren’t pornographic. Where had she gotten these? As he looked closer, the memory came back to him. This was in Cabo San Lucas! Every one of these pictures had been taken around the same time, in those few moments when, sexually replete, he’d fallen into a heavy sleep.
Paul’s heart jumped and his pulse sped. Candy must have taken these pictures. Why? How? Yet it was the only explanation. Okay. She took these, but then how did Emily get them?
Jaw tightened, lips pressed together, he sought control. Paul had a vicious temper. It was a violent, angry side of him that had taken him a long time to learn how to curb.
The club environment had helped, and his mentor, Master Matthew.
At the moment, he was desperately struggling for restraint. For the self-control that he had worked so hard to master. Just now he couldn’t remember ever feeling so completely enraged. Never. Except for once before, with his father.
He turned toward Emily and his eyes met hers. They were heavy with accusation. “What have you done?”
Emily took two steps backwards, her face as white as her blouse. Paul’s eyes followed her. She looked guilty as sin. As he stepped toward her, Emily pressed up against her desk in her attempt to get away. The little rabbit wasn’t fucking getting away from him.
There was nowhere to run.
Paul gripped her shoulders in his hands, and gave her a little shake. But there was something in her eyes, her face and expression.
His time with Emily, and his time with Candy came together suddenly, in a lightning bolt of awareness. He instantly let go of her shoulders, as if he’d been burned. Paul took two steps backwards and stared at her, blinded by the similarities between the two women.
Emily and Candy. Candy and Emily.
Why hadn’t he seen that before?
The truth hit him, sharp as a knife. Anguish and agony tore from his chest. “Jesus Christ! Jesus fucking Christ!” he shouted out loud, in a scream of terrible, unspeakable pain.
“Paul!” Emily said in a choking half sob. “I can explain!”
An eternity of moments passed while Paul’s mind processed everything. He had slowly been falling in love with a woman named Candy. But all that time, it had been Emily! He’d been sending emails to her! There never was anyone named Candy.
As unreal as it seemed, this was reality.
The magnitude of her betrayal practically crushed him. It was as if he’d been hurt and deceived by the only two women he loved and trusted. Only there never were two women.
There had only been one.
Emily had worn brown contacts to hide her blue eyes. She’d cut and dyed her hair, and she’d filled out into an impressive womanly figure over the years. Dressed to seduce, and wearing heavy make-up, Paul hadn’t recognized her.
The scale of her deception – the time, energy and effort it took, blew him away.
She tricked me! How long was she planning this? All on purpose, in order to deceive me.
Which of course had been Emily’s intention.
How could she? Emily had always been like a little sister to him! Images flashed by of his time in Cabo San Lucas with ‘Candy.’ Those erotic, sensual memories – once an immense source of joy, were now irrevocably tainted. A wave of nausea tightened his stomach. He thought he might throw up.
“Paul, I…”
Fury clawed viciously at him like a rabid animal, slashing into his heart.
r /> He pointed an angry finger at her. “Don’t say another fucking word,” he said bitterly. His eyes narrowed as he stared at her with disgust and disdain.
That lying little bitch! Never trust a woman. Hadn’t he already learned that lesson? Paul always thought of Emily as family. Actually, he thought of her as better than family. Well, better than his family, at least.
His eyes burned as he stared at her. I thought I could depend on Emily.
Evidently, he couldn’t have been more wrong.
“Paul, please!” Emily said, taking a step toward him.
Paul stepped back, holding his hand out in a ‘stop’ motion. Now that he understood the situation, he somehow found the ability to restrain his rage. He was proud of himself at how calm he’d suddenly become.
Ice calm. Ice cold.
“I will not talk to you. Not now. Maybe not ever,” he said in a cool, even voice. His jaw flexed with stifled fury, and he felt a muscle twitch in his cheek. “Keep away from me.”
Paul turned and slowly walked away. His body felt like it belonged to someone else. Opening the door, he took one last look at her.
Emily flinched under his angry glare. Tears ran down her cheeks. She was visibly shaking, and he was glad to see that. He wanted her to hurt. Just like she had hurt him.
She looked small, frightened and insignificant, and she was… now. Emily was irrelevant. She meant nothing to him anymore. Just one more family member who’d deceived and hurt him. Someone to walk away from.
“You told me that your name was Candy,” he said with soft menace. “Liar!” Paul snapped the word at her as fast and hurtful as a whip against naked flesh. As if physically hit, Emily recoiled, just as he shut the door.
It was the worst insult he could imagine, and it was completely accurate.
Chapter 33. Tissues
After using up half a box of tissues, Emily just sat and stared for a long time, completely numb.
After a while the numbness went away and she graduated into feeling sick. Really sick. Cold, clammy, throw-up, nauseous sick. Emily would never forget the way Paul’s face filled with horror when he found her pictures of him asleep and half-naked.
Not to mention his bitter look of disgust and revulsion as he called her a liar. Her chest ached.
God, it hurts.
Somehow, Emily stumbled through the rest of her work day, as it dragged on. She avoided Paul, dealt with various work-related issues, and then finally drove home on automatic pilot.
She trembled, chilled through and through, right to the bone.
This must be shock, she decided.
When she arrived home, she went straight to bed, and pulled the covers over her head.
I feel like my mother, she thought, with a peculiar, disconnected sense of déjà vu.
Eventually she began to beat herself up for being a cruel, stupid and selfish person who had hurt Paul, a man she cared about more than herself. Her flaws and failings were endless, and her regrets bitter. And the pain!
The flogger was nothing. This is true pain. How much of this kind of agony can a human heart take?
She didn’t go to work the next day, nor did she call in. Emily felt a bit guilty about not visiting Tom, but she just didn’t have it in her to face the world, or even to get out of bed.
It took another full day before her mind was clear enough to begin to form what she considered to be a logical thought. Never had she felt so low. She was despondent. Some part of the back of her mind or personality spoke to her, telling her that she was lucky.
If not for this, how would she ever truly understand how low a person could become?
Yes, I’ve certainly enlarged my experience, she decided in a moment of dark flippancy. Now, just where did I leave that loaded gun?
For the first time, Emily genuinely sympathized with her mother. This was a whole new level of low. No wonder mom spoke of suicide.
The man she loved, hated her. What was there to live for? Ridiculous ideas passed through Emily’s mind: Buy a one-way ticket to Brazil. Drink herself into a stupor. Jump off a bridge.
Paul will never trust me again.
How could she escape the hideous reality of her situation? Physically and emotionally, this agony was beyond words. It was excruciating. Stifling. Sickening. It was worse than any physical torture that she could fathom.
And I brought it all on myself. Even worse than that, I hurt the one person who means more to me than anyone else.
Thoughts of suicide seemed soothingly sensible.
Emily couldn’t stop picturing the emotions displayed on Paul’s face: confusion, disbelief, disappointment, disillusionment, rage, icy hatred, and revulsion. Seeing the depth of his feelings displayed so openly burned like acid to her soul.
I hurt him with a selfish act of deception. I deserve this pain. But Paul doesn’t.
Aware of her mental and emotional disturbance, in the way that dogs were, Beauty remained at her side. Emily’s mother became conscious of Emily’s black mood, too. She never asked Emily what was wrong, perhaps because she couldn’t face any new trauma in her life.
“I have to do all the work around here,” her mom complained. Yet she baked chocolate chip cookies and brought them to Emily in her bedroom, while they were still warm and gooey.
The thought was kind and Emily appreciated the gesture, but she couldn’t eat. Maybe she’d lose a pound or two. See? She thought cynically. Something good would come of losing both Paul’s friendship, and his love, in one fell swoop. And truthfully, she deserved it.
The only sensible solution was to talk to Paul, but when Emily phoned him, he refused her call. She decided to send him an email from Candy and her own email address. That way he couldn’t miss it.
From: Emily Malone
To: Paul Jarman
Subject: I’m so sorry
Paul,
I was going to come to LA and explain everything. Instead, Tom had a heart attack. I originally came to Cabo San Lucas in order to have sex with you, as Candy. Quite frankly, I’ve had a crush on you since forever. It could easily be classed as an obsession. I wrongly hoped that maybe having one night of sex with you would be a solution to that. I was desperate to get you out of my system. I wanted to finally be able to get over you and get on with my life.
That deception went against everything that I believe in. You know who I am, if anyone does. I don’t go around tricking, or manipulating people to get what I want. I’m terribly ashamed of my actions and ashamed of myself.
But what would you have done if our roles were reversed?
The idea was that after just that one night, I’d finally be able to let you go. I needed to get on with my life, and eventually find someone else.
As long as I was only able to focus on you, my life was at a standstill. I wasn’t available for anyone else. I was wasting my time, watching life pass me by, while pining over you. I needed to move on, but couldn’t figure out any way to get past my feelings for you.
Remember the two times that I tried to express my interest in you? You rejected me so quickly. You wouldn’t even consider it. I didn’t know any way to get past your preconceived ideas. You only saw me as a little sister, rather than a woman with a mind of her own.
The plan worked too well. It wiped away those notions of yours, and forced you to see me as a woman. I certainly never expected you to want to see Candy again.
I took the pictures because I’ve always taken pictures of you. I know it’s weird and wrong and even creepy. I know that, but to me, it seemed natural. I love photography and there was nothing more beautiful than you were, in Cabo. Those pictures meant so much to me. They were a reminder of the best time of my life.
You were never supposed to find out about any of this. It was only going to be a one-time thing. But then you became infatuated with Candy and wanted to see her again. You can imagine my dilemma.
I’ve got news for you, Paul: I’m Candy. You’ve become interested in ME! As I’ve always had a
crush on you, we should be able to live happily ever after (if you can just get past the whole being deceived thing.)
I’m sincerely sorry for the pain that I caused you. There are no words that come close to express the depth my shame and sorrow.
I’m going to visit your dad in the morning. I’ll be at work in the afternoon.
Can we please talk about this like adults?
Emily
~~~
Paul didn’t reply and that made her mad. At least he could say something.
Well, fuck him.
The next day, Emily pulled herself out of bed and spent an hour in the morning with Tom, pleased to find that he was slowly improving. When she arrived at work, Paul avoided her. If he had to speak to her, he did so with embittered, cool detachment.
Emily finally managed to corner him, when he was alone in his office.
“Are you going to talk to me?”
“No,” Paul said, his attention on the computer, refusing to look her in the eyes. “I really don’t have anything to say.”
“I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry I hurt you, Paul. It was wrong, but quite frankly, even now, I don’t regret it. I’ve wanted to have sex with you for so long. Now, I have.”
“Jesus,” Paul said in a loud expulsion of air. His eyes finally met hers. “I would have never slept with you, if I knew it was you.”
“That was the whole point. The exact reason why I dressed up as Candy.”
“Fuck, Emily, you’re like my little sister!”
“Not as Candy, I’m not,” she smirked, a combination of amusement and dark cynicism.
“So when you can’t get something you want, you lie?”
“And the moment you run into an obstacle or difficulty you refuse to talk about it?” she retorted, her blood beginning to boil. Emily never lost her temper. Oddly, something inside of her, building over a number of years, finally snapped. “Let me guess,” she snarled. “As soon as you can dump the supermarket, you’re going to run away again, aren’t you, Paul?”