Her Husband's Murder, page 9
“Mmm,” Emma said and backed herself farther into him. He loved the little sounds she made when she was waking up. “Not yet. And I heard it too. I put up the Do Not Disturb on the door.”
Of course she did. She was perfect. “I know it’s early,” he said, and kissed her shoulder. “Tee time isn’t till ten-fifteen, although I want to hit the range for a bit first. I need to warm up my swing for about twenty minutes beforehand. What time is your first appointment?”
“Eleven,” she said lazily, still dreaming. “Facial. Body scrub with fake tan. Manicure. Pedicure. All day long. I had to skip the massage because of Junior, but I’ll still be stunning for tomorrow.”
“Sounds like a dream,” he deadpanned. Then his voice lit up. “And you’re always stunning. At least you don’t have to spend the day chasing a ball in this heat.”
She turned to face him and pecked him on his cheek. “I get pampered, and you get to play golf. Don’t make it sound like you’re making a sacrifice!” she said with a laugh. “At least we’re not at the office.”
“I know. I love golf. It’s just—” He stopped himself. He couldn’t tell her that he didn’t want to play with Trevor. “It’s just that I think I injured my shoulder at the gym last week.”
“Oh no!” Emma threw the covers off herself. “Which one?”
She was going to rub it and make it better for him. How did he get so lucky?
Emma kneaded his left shoulder for a good ten minutes before he began to stroke her arm in a way that meant business. Almost as soon as he was able to roll on top of her, morning sickness reared its ugly head and she got up and ran into the bathroom. The sound of the heaves certainly killed the mood.
When she crawled back to bed, eyes watery and clutching her abdomen, he tickled her hair for a few minutes in silence. He noticed the rhythmic tapping sound the clock made. It was digital, but the symbol between the numbers blinked for every second. Tap. Tap. Tap. A sound so faint he wasn’t sure if it was real or if he was imagining it. That, and the sound of hungry seagulls on the balcony reminded him he needed to eat.
“I’m going to run downstairs and grab bagels for us in the café. You need to eat something. You’re eating for two.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll order room service.” She glanced at the clock. “You should get ready to go. You can grab a bagel on the way.”
He would’ve loved breakfast in bed with his wife, but instead, he dragged his ass in the shower, and Emma was on the phone ordering room service while he dressed. As he buckled his belt, Emma scrolled through her phone, her face lighting up, no doubt looking at her sister’s Instagram—again.
“I have to go,” he said, picking up his clubs and blowing her a kiss. “Enjoy your spa day.”
“I love you,” she said, without looking up. It was a reflex for her. She loved him, and that was that.
His heart swelled. He’d do anything to protect that woman. No matter what it took.
With his clubs hung over his shoulder, Ethan met up with Dutch and Veejay in the lobby at nine-fifteen. They both looked well rested and drank coffee from Styrofoam cups provided in the hotel lobby as part of the free continental breakfast. He said hello and set his clubs down near them and strode over to the coffee stand to fill his own cup. They were already out of bagels, so he scarfed down a blueberry muffin. The coffee was surprisingly fresh, not bitter and syrupy. Usually, the smell of coffee reminded him that he’d be up and alert for the next few hours, although at that moment all he thought about was the comfort of being snuggled up in the sheets with Emma.
“So, where’s the groom?” Ethan asked upon his return. He tried to keep his tone light and cheery. I love Trevor.
Vee looked at his watch. “I don’t know, but he said to meet down here at nine-thirty. Funny that we’re all here early, ready to get going.”
“I guess were all excited for golf. What a fun day this is going to be!” Dutch exclaimed.
Shit, they really do like him, Ethan thought. Then again, Dutch was acting like a child. A fun day? Was he hiding his misery as well by overcompensating? Nah. Dutch didn’t have it in him to be fake, especially after the whole Roger debacle. Ethan was just eager to get it over with. The sooner they could begin this charade, the sooner it would be over.
“Right!” Ethan said. Ugh. Way too overenthusiastic. Smile, but don’t clown smile. “So fun!” Jesus, he sounded like a first grader on their way to an ice cream shop. Just like Dutch. Maybe the boys’ day had them both feeling nostalgic and young. They hadn’t golfed together in a while. Adulthood got in the way.
The elevator doors dinged behind him, and Dutch and Vee’s faces lit up. The sinking sensation in his stomach told Ethan it was his worst nightmare.
“Hello, groomsmen!” the slick voice behind him spit out, and the reaction to Trevor’s voice felt like spiders were crawling up Ethan’s spine. “I have an Expedition waiting outside. The course is only five minutes from here. Let’s roll.”
As soon as they exited the hotel, Ethan couldn’t breathe. While yesterday provided a much-needed relief from the arctic temperatures up North, this was something else altogether. A heat wave in Miami was no joke. He set his golf bag down and took his clean towel from the hook that attached to the bag and wiped down the back of his neck, already shiny. He re-hooked it and a porter loaded the bag into the trunk with the others while Ethan clawed his way into the air-conditioned car. He’d been afraid of the leather burning the backs of his thighs. He went to the third-row seating to spread out while Dutch and Vee jumped into the second row.
“Warm out there,” Ethan said, and uncapped a water bottle that was in one of the cup holders.
“Yeah, how do you do it in the summer?” Vee asked.
“Oh, come on. I’m sure Mumbai summer temperatures are no joke,” Trevor said from the passenger-side front seat. “Actually, isn’t it hot there all year round?”
“Pretty much. I guess I’ve acclimated to winters,” Vee said with a shrug.
“Right.” Riiiight. “You came here when you were a teenager, yeah? College lottery, you said?”
“Mmmm hmmm.”
“Lucky you, Veejay Rahna. Lucky you.”
Trevor’s tone was so condescending that Ethan didn’t understand why these other guys liked him so much. But he played along. Hell, if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em. He slapped the back of Vee’s head from the third-row seating.
“Fucking dork. Did you win because of those stupid science fiction books you read? Were you teleported here from your mother ship?” Camaraderie.
“Hey man, what gives?” Vee asked.
Dutch joined in on the mockery and put Vee in a headlock and rubbed the top of his head with a fist. “Are your leaders going to come down and punish us now, Rahna?” he said with a laugh.
With the roughhousing and teasing, Ethan almost felt like they were all there to have a good time.
Almost.
The heat outside proved to be too much during the last few holes, and they stopped after fourteen. The southern sun beat down on them like it wasn’t ninety-three million miles away, but like someone was hanging it over their heads and shaking it, letting the fire droplets fall on them like lava. They were all soaked right through their clothes, and they needed to sit in air conditioning. Vee said he wanted to shower, Dutch wanted to take a nap, and Ethan just wanted to get the hell away. They got lucky, because Trevor said he had some things to take care of before the rehearsal dinner later that night. Ethan wondered if any of it had to do with him.
He’d planned and plotted all night on a way to make sure Trevor kept his word; as the old saying goes, two can keep a secret if one of them is…
But that was too extreme.
Even if he did wish for it. Even if he’d been wishing for it since July.
20
EMMA
The day before the wedding, 1:00 p.m.
Emma had just emerged from her body scrub and mud wrap, and she felt like a million bucks. Her facial was relaxing and much needed, and the technician would be attending to her nails momentarily. She went back to the spa’s Serenity Waiting Lounge and Fiona and Allie were already there, clad in the same terrycloth-lined velvet robes and slippers that made her feel like a bunny.
“How do you feel?” Fiona asked. “That massage was heaven. Really worked out the pre-wedding tension!”
“No massage for me.” Emma rubbed her abdomen. “But so far, I’m never going home,” she said with a smile. “Where’s the rest of your family?”
“They all had their nails and toes done already. It’s just us for manis and pedis. We’re all going in at the same time.”
“Oh, fun.”
The truth was, she didn’t want to spend any more time with Fiona than necessary. She hated what she knew about her. She didn’t want to feel that way about one of her oldest friends, but sometimes when she closed her eyes, she saw it, in glorious detail. That picture of her husband making out with Fiona against the back of a bar. Gross.
How she’d gotten a hold of the picture was yet another memory she wanted to forget. Fine—she and Ethan were broken up when it happened. It was still a breach of the worst kind. But what could she do? She had her own secrets to deal with, ones that were much, much worse. Because of her hidden past, she didn’t even feel the need to forgive Ethan, but she was struggling to forgive Fiona.
Though she had no right to feel that way either.
It’ll all be over in one more day, she thought.
“So, Fiona, tomorrow you’re a wife. You’ll be married to that Trevor Vaughn,” Allie said.
She said that Trevor Vaughn, and Emma stifled laughter.
“Yeah,” Fiona said faintly.
“That was a quick turnaround though, no? I mean, last spring when the three of us went out you said you felt like he was suffocating you and isolating you, and then all of a sudden BAM you move to Miami and then BAM you’re engaged a month later and now BAM you’re getting married less than six months after that.” Allie pulled no punches and didn’t mess around.
“I know it’s fast. He’s got his quirks, but I’m not perfect either.”
Quirks? Emma not-so-accidentally made a pfft sound and then covered it by pretending to sneeze.
“Bless you,” said Allie, then turned back on Fiona. “I’m just saying.” Her lips were pursed.
“You guys like him, right?” Fiona asked.
“What does that matter? Who cares what I think of Trevor? Or even her for that matter.” Allie snapped, and pointed to Emma before turning her attention back to Fiona. “You love him, right?”
Fiona’s eyes welled up and she tilted her head toward the ceiling. Allie was never a warm person to anyone but her father, which is why her weird marriage, while it lasted, made sense. Emma never saw either of them overly affectionate to each other, or even affectionate at all. Wharton was twice Allie’s age when they married, and Emma had only met him a handful of times. Christ, his three children from his first marriage were all older than Allie. She’d only met them at their wedding. They weren’t fans of Allie’s.
She’d never fawned over anyone, so it was no different that she didn’t get gaga over Trevor.
Three technicians called their names, and they went into the nail salon section of the spa, where the three of them sat in a row with Emma in the middle. She chose that seat on purpose because she didn’t want to listen to the sniping anymore. Allie seemed to be well on her way to giving an opinion no one asked for when she was saved by the bell. Did Allie hate Trevor, just like Emma did? She couldn’t even risk asking. She couldn’t explain to Allie why she hated Trevor.
Emma sat in the plush pedicure cubicle and sank her toes into the warm, frothy water that glowed green in the tub lights. She had chosen a green tea pedicure, which included a clay mask, paraffin oil, and a ten-minute foot massage—she’d read it was good for circulation during pregnancy, though she made them go light with the pressure. She leaned back into the leather chair and turned on the back massager—just because she wasn’t allowed a Swedish rubdown didn’t mean she couldn’t work out the kinks in her back. Her eyelids were heavy, and she decided not to fight it—she hadn’t taken much time for herself in the last couple months, when everything went to shit, and telling Ethan about the pregnancy a couple of weeks before the Miami trip was half a relief and half a mountain of pressure.
The girls stayed quiet. Emma, enjoying her closed-eye silent time, Allie, playing with her phone and probably uploading pictures of the spa to Instagram with the hashtag #HateMeCauseYouAintMe and Fiona—well, she was reading a bridal magazine, probably making comparisons and picking on everything that she did wrong.
Like her mind was being read, Fiona turned to Emma and pushed an open page in her direction.
“Do you think I should’ve chosen dresses like this for you guys instead?” she asked.
“No!” they both shouted at once, even though Allie didn’t see the picture. She barely lifted her head when she was lost on her phone in the Instagram world.
Emma and Allie both liked the bridesmaid dresses, which was a first. They were pale pink chiffon, perfect for a wedding at the beach. They were flattering and flowy and didn’t have anything remotely bridal about them—no puffy sleeves, no boning in the chest, and no taffeta. Emma’s olive skin stood out against the light color, and she planned on wearing her dark hair in a soft side bun, held together with bobby pins containing small pink and white crystals.
Allie had said she particularly liked the dress against her copper hair—the pink against the red was stunning, with her pale complexion and smattering of freckles across her nose. Now, at platinum blond, Emma wondered if the pale color would wash her out.
“Hey, so what’s with the blond?” Emma asked. They’d never properly talked about it.
Allie dismissed her with a wave of her hand, still not looking up from her phone. “I told you, it’s fabulous.”
Emma wasn’t convinced. “You send us snapshots of yourself from dressing rooms asking for opinions on T-shirts—I can’t believe you didn’t tell us about such a huge change.”
“Well, I just didn’t, all right?” she snapped. She typed furiously for a few more seconds and then put her phone on the armrest beside her. “It was a spur of the moment decision. I just wanted to be different for a change. Whatever, it’s just fucking bleach. It’ll grow out.”
Yikes. “I didn’t mean anything by it,” Emma said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. It really does look great.”
Her sigh was heavy and said more than she’d intended. “Thanks. Sorry. I was up too early today for all this stuff. I hit the Jack pretty hard when I got back to my room last night. Yesterday was a long day with the travel, and then the drinking all day, and everyone together and the pregnancy announcement and dinner and more drinks—it caught up to me. I’m just being a bitch.” She maneuvered her body forward to look past Emma and to Fiona. “And I’m sorry about before. As long as you’re happy, I’m happy.”
Fiona smiled weakly. Why didn’t she look like a glowing bride-to-be?
21
DUTCH
The day before the wedding, 6:00 p.m.
After the wedding rehearsal on the beach, everyone stood around the outdoor bar, waiting to be called in for dinner. This time everyone was drinking water—not just Emma. The heat was too much. Dutch pulled at the buttons on his linen shirt, trying to pump some air between the material and his chest.
“Holy shit. Remind me of this moment if I start bitching about the cold when we get home,” he said. “This is fucking ridiculous.” He looked at Vee. “Sorry.”
“Can’t wait for the tuxes tomorrow,” Ethan said with an eye roll.
“Ugh,” Vee said. “It’s going to be brutal. You girls are lucky. Short dresses!”
“Yeah, that and ten pounds of makeup. We’ll be melting,” Emma said with a chuckle. “And I’m not slicking my hair in a bun like I originally wanted to do. I don’t have the cheekbones for it. I’ll have to think of something that won’t make me look dreadful. Maybe a side braid, so my hair is off my neck.”
Ethan pulled her close and kissed her temple. “The face that launched a thousand ships.”
She blushed and gave him a coy smile, then jumped up to meet his lips. “Eu te amo. I love you.”
“I think it’s time for a drink.” Allie fanned herself with her left hand, but it wasn’t doing the trick for her shiny chest.
“I’ll grab them,” Dutch said. “Why don’t you guys see if there’s a spot inside, in the air conditioning. There’s that landing right up the stairs with those big windows overlooking the water. I’ll grab some beers and a bottle of prosecco. And some water,” he added, looking at Emma. “I’ll have them send a bucket of ice.”
When Ethan opened the door, the cold air immediately formed dew marks on everyone’s damp skin. They all looked like a cold bottle of beer, left out in the sun. Dripping wet. Emma held her thick hair off the back of her neck while Ethan fanned her from behind and Vee cursed the humidity with his PG-words. Allie pursed her lips as if she’d be able to stare down the heat—and win.
Dutch found them on the landing in the wicker chairs and couches with plush white cushions. They were able to get comfortable without sticking to the bottom of their seats like they would have on the leather couches on the other side of the room. Dutch carried one bucket full of beer bottles in his left hand, a bucket full of plastic water bottles in his right hand, and a bottle of prosecco tucked under his arm.
“They’re bringing an ice bucket and some glasses,” Dutch said to Allie. He handed Emma a water, and she looked deprived as her friends pulled at the various libations. Dutch, too, started with a water to cool his core temperature, and unscrewed the cap as he talked. “By this time tomorrow, they’ll be married,” he said to his friends. “Awesome.”
