A Good Man Page 9

  “He apologized, but not for cheating. He apologized for how I found out. To me, that says everything.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Can I be brutally honest with you now?”

  He nodded.

  “I feel even worse than before.”

  She settled in and turned her attention to the TV. When Michael had turned it on, he’d landed on an action movie and he’d left it there. Emily didn’t object and didn’t ask him to leave, so he sat back too and watched it with her.

  About ten minutes later, she reached across the loveseat and grabbed his hand. Michael knew from the turn to her mouth that she needed a friend, even more than he needed to haul her into his arms and show her that she was the least boring person he knew.

  He settled for squeezing her hand. He could be her friend for now.

  Chapter Nine

  “Welcome to drywall day, everyone,” Lacey said the next morning to the gathered crew before the cameras started rolling. “Although we’re booked to be here the entire day, I don’t anticipate using a lot of these shots. In my opinion, drywall isn’t as sexy as demolition. That is, unless someone volunteers to test run those awesome sleeveless tees.”

  “Hey, Lacey,” Louie called from the back of the room. “If you want sexy, I volunteer to wear one of those tank tops.”

  “Sorry, Louie. I was talking about one of the guys in front of the camera.”

  Emily didn’t know why they were joking about tank tops, but the rest of the crew seemed to think the garments were a topic of hilarity. She supposed, if she understood the context, she’d howl along with the others. That was, if she could summon a chuckle. As it stood, she couldn’t.

  She now understood what the term ‘shell-shocked’ meant. Not that she could compare her state to that of someone who’d lived through a war, but she’d been seized with numbness when she awoke. After having eaten her breakfast on automatic pilot that morning, she had tied her sneakers without realizing it, and could barely remember getting into her car. Even now, as Lacey spoke, she couldn’t process the other woman’s words.

  Other woman. She’d never given much thought to the term. She’d only ever heard it on those soap operas her mother used to watch. When she pictured those other women, she envisioned ladies with big hair and shoulder pads, who had cat fights. Veronica was someone she used to like, a regular person with a job and ambitions. She wouldn’t have pegged her as other woman material.

  Her stomach issued a warning growl. Her breakfast, plain toast, wasn’t sitting well. It served her right for forcing it down her gullet when she hadn’t felt like eating. Even her beloved coffee had tasted like vinegar.

  Maybe if she closed her eyes for a few seconds, everything would go away.

  When she opened them, Michael was staring at her. He smiled, his eyes lit with warmth.

  He’d been so good the previous evening. Emily didn’t know what she’d done to deserve his friendship, but she’d appreciated having him around at such a difficult moment. Michael hadn’t grilled her after her conversation with Trent. He hadn’t forced his opinions on her. He’d simply spent time with her so she didn’t have to feel alone.

  She’d thanked him at the end of the evening, of course, but she doubted he understood just how much his presence meant.

  Even now, as Lacey continued to give notes to the crew, he meandered over to Emily and reached for her hand, running his thumb over her wrist. “How’s your right hook today?”

  “Much better, thanks.”

  “Did you sleep last night?”

  “Not really. Did you?”

  “Not really.”

  “Another headache?”

  “You could say so. I’m used to them now.”

  Eli and Nick walked up to them and Emily turned to Eli. “How are you feeling?”

  Eli rubbed his shoulder. “I’m stiff, but I’ll be okay. We’ve all had worse injuries on the job site.” He nodded at her gauzed hand. “And you?”

  “Just some bruised knuckles. Nothing I can’t handle.”

  Nick’s eyes lit up. “Eli, remember that time I put a nail through my hand? That was awesome.” He held up his left hand for Emily to see.

  Sure enough, he had a scar along the flap of skin between his thumb and pointer finger. Emily grimaced as her toast made another appearance.

  “That’s nothing. You didn’t even hit bone. I’ve hit bone,” Michael boasted.

  “Uh, guys,” said Eli. “Emily’s gone green. Maybe we should end this conversation.”

  Nick grinned. “Aw, you’re adorable when you’re green.”

  Michael didn’t comment, but he analyzed her face, his lips quirked, as if he appreciated having a reason to look at her.

  “Ignore him,” said Eli. “So Michael told us Trent won’t be joining us for the rest of the shoot.”

  She looked at Michael. “You did?”

  “I just let the team know Trent is no longer available.”

  She let out the breath she was holding and thanked him with a nod. “Right. He had…a conflict.”

  “No matter,” said Michael. “We’ll be just fine, won’t we, Em?”

  She nodded through her melancholy. Last night, sitting on a couch with Michael, she’d been encouraged, able to face the world. Now, in the light of day, the reality of her situation hit her. How would she explain the situation to people? Never mind the Handymen crew, she still had to talk to her family. What would they say? Chris would take her side, but he’d want to point out all her errors. Her mom had never warmed to Trent. She’d say Emily had lost two years of good time when she could have been planning a wedding with a more deserving man. As for Emily’s father, she’d have to drag him away from his nightly game shows for five minutes in order to drop her bombshell.

  She had no idea what she was supposed to do next. She felt hollow and drained, like a water pipe that had had its valve shut off.

  She wondered what Trent was doing now. Was he at home, licking his wounds, dismayed at being caught? Was he systematically shredding all her photos, taking care to lop the little heads off first? Perhaps he was fucking Veronica without a care in the world.

  Michael wrapped an arm around her shoulders, somehow understanding everything. “Come on. I know demolition is done, but maybe I can find something else for you to smash.”

  “I’d like that.” Outlawing all thoughts of Trent for the rest of the day, she followed Michael.

  * * * *

  “You’re in a good mood today.”

  Michael looked up from his lunch and turned toward Nick. “Why shouldn’t I be? We haven’t run into any issues on the job yet. Emily’s grandmother took good care of the house, so we don’t have to do a lot of the work that would have slowed us down on other renovations. Most things are up to code. We’re ahead of schedule and Emily’s happy with the progress. Am I not allowed to be happy too?”

  “By all means, let your happy flag fly.” His brother took a huge bite out of his sandwich and chewed. “It’s just, when Trent was around, you were a bear. He miraculously disappears and you’re as playful as a puppy. Which leads me to one question.”

  “And that is?”

  “Did you kill Emily’s fiancé?”

  “Would you please shut your mouth?” Michael glanced toward Emily to see if she’d heard the comment, but she was deep in conversation with Franka. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Nick has a point,” said Eli. “We have a surplus of concrete on this site, more than enough for cement shoes. Besides, you and Emily have gotten chummy really fast.”

  “Is that a crime?”

  “No,” said Eli. “But I think you know what we’re getting at. Trent may have pulled another no-show, but last we heard, they were still engaged.”

  “That’s because I haven’t updated you.” Michael lowered his voice. “She called it off. She caught him mauling another woman. It’s been going on for six months, apparently.”

  “Whoa.” Nick whistled long and lo
w. “Harsh.”

  “Yeah. Keep it to yourselves. She’s mortified.”

  “Holy shit.” Eli’s mouth fell open. “Her hand. Please tell me she broke that frat boy’s perfect nose.”

  Michael nodded.

  Nick grinned in appreciation. “Forget your friendship. I think I’m in love with her.”

  Michael pointed at his youngest brother’s chest. “Back off. She’s calm, but not in a good way. Personally, I think she’s barely keeping it together. Between you and me, I think she needs to scream or cry or let it out. It’s not good for her to cover up her feelings.”

  “I can’t imagine anyone doing that.”

  Michael ignored the wry tones in Eli’s voice.

  “Be careful with your new friendship,” warned Eli.

  “Why? There’s nothing going on. Look, I like her. I won’t deny it. We’ve become friendly. Men and women can be friends, you know.”

  “We’re just looking out for you, bro,” said Nick. “Emily’s cool. We agree with you there, but you’re in the rebound zone right now.”

  “Rebound zone. What have I told you about reading women’s magazines?”

  Nick put up his hands. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m not opposed to being a woman’s rebound man. When there are no strings attached, the sex can be hot. That being said, you and Emily are already friends. I doubt you’d want to mess it up.”

  Rebounds. Michael hadn’t even considered the possibility. Rebounds never led to anything substantial and worthwhile. They were only good for sex, a raw, physical moment of temptation that led nowhere.

  He glanced at Emily, taking note of the pleasing curve to her hip.

  He might be okay with a raw, physical moment of temptation. Or twenty.

  Only, Nick was right. Michael liked her too much. Emotions were already involved.

  Right on cue, another headache started at the base of his skull. He didn’t even wait for it to get worse. Grabbing a couple of caplets, he drank them down with some water.

  “You need to go back to that doctor.”

  Would Eli never stop harping about the doctor? If Michael didn’t know any better, he’d swear his brother was part of the shrink’s marketing team. “He was a quack. All he wanted to do was teach me deep breathing techniques. I’ve been breathing a long time. I think I’ve got a pretty good handle on it.”

  “You never even gave him a chance. Michael, it might not be such a bad thing for you to discuss your feelings with a professional.”

  “What feelings?”

  “Don’t even bother.” Nick dismissed the topic with a wave. “How many times have we tried having this discussion? He’s pig-headed.”

  “Hey.”

  “Bro,” said Eli, peering at Michael as if he were a test specimen in a lab. “You lived through a traumatic situation, one that could have been a whole lot worse. You need to talk about it.”

  “There’s been enough talk about the subject. It was a year ago. It’s done.”

  “I just thought of something,” said Nick. “Now that you mention it, didn’t the shooting take place exactly a year ago?”

  Michael considered the date. Jane Ashton had died on June twentieth. That meant, in a few short days, it would indeed be a year since the shooting.

  All of a sudden, it felt as if someone had poured alcohol on the open wound that was his heart. One year since they’d put a healthy, vibrant woman in the ground. One year since Jane’s daughter, Penny, had lost her entire immediate family. No one ever talked about her or her struggles. Penny was a kid, not even out of college yet, and had to deal with having a murderer for a father and a dead mother. The news reporters never wanted to discuss Penny’s issues. Perhaps her struggles weren’t sexy enough for the nightly news.

  They just wanted to splash Michael’s photo around because people knew his name. They wanted to make him a hero for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, but no one thought Penny was a hero for dragging herself out of bed every goddamn day?

  “Michael?” Eli’s voice sounded far away, a universe away. “Are you listening?”

  “What? Are we done here?”

  Eli shook his head and put his remaining segment of sandwich down on a plate. “And you’re worried about Emily hiding her feelings? We are done here. I’d rather talk to that piece of drywall over there. It’s more responsive.” He abandoned the lunch table and went back to work.

  Nick grabbed Eli’s sandwich. “More for me.”

  Michael abandoned the remainder of his lunch as well and headed to the door so he could grab a breath of fresh air. All of a sudden, Nonna Olivia’s house felt small and close, almost closing in on him.

  He knew his brothers were right. He should probably talk to someone, anyone, about what had happened at the daycare, but he couldn’t seem to form any words to describe his feelings. What goes through a man’s head when he sees ten toddlers lined up against the wall, facing a man with a gun? There were no words.

  As for emotions, he’d only known one in that moment. Utter fear that he wouldn’t be able to help them. It had all happened so quickly, he’d barely been able to muster any fear for himself.

  Somehow he’d been able to rally and had tackled Henry Ashton to the ground, disarming him from behind. The man had been incoherent and hadn’t put up much of a struggle anyway. After shooting and killing his ex-wife, he’d stared for a few dreadful moments, his eyes wide with shock. Did he even realize what he’d done? Would he have any sort of recollection of how the bullet tore through her chest, leaving a trail of blood and tissue?

  Michael remembered. Every night, he remembered the agony and terror on Jane’s face. The shock of having had her life cut short by a man who’d claimed to love her.

  He set foot on the front porch and the fresh air hit his face. He breathed deeply and tried to banish the terrifying imagery in his mind.

  A woman’s giggle caught his attention. Lacey stood by the equipment trailer parked in front of the house. She was eating lunch with Jacob, their intern. At least, they had been eating until he showed up. Once Michael appeared, she glanced at him then flashed her high beams at Jacob. He must have said something witty because she laughed out loud.

  “Jacob,” she drawled, running a finger up his arm. “You’ve been working out, haven’t you?”

  The intern melted under Lacey’s touch and praise. “Um, a bit. Does it show?”

  “God, yes. Keep it up. Good stamina is so important.” She whispered something into Jacob’s ear and the kid’s face turned scarlet.

  Michael shook his head. Poor Jacob. He had no idea Lacey was putting on a show for another man’s benefit, but he certainly didn’t seem to mind. Ignoring them, he stormed down the walkway.

  “Enjoy your walk, Michael,” Lacey called, still gazing into Jacob’s eyes. “Hopefully it’ll clear your head. I know you’ve been having trouble seeing sense lately.”

  He grunted. Jacob was welcome to her.

  * * * *

  The shoot was going well, or so the experts assured Emily. Two days later, as she sat in her condo drinking lukewarm tea, she actually missed being on set. However, the crew was installing floor tiles today and Lacey had told her she wouldn’t be needed at Beatrice Street.

  ‘You’ve been working so hard. You look exhausted. Maybe treat yourself to a facial or something to help those dark circles. Take a day off, hun,’ the director had drawled as they’d wrapped up the previous evening. ‘Once the men start tiling, you’ll just get in the way.’

  Get in the way in my own house? Dark circles?

  Emily had bitten back the retort on her tongue and had deferred to Lacey’s wishes. The woman was the director, after all. Once again, she wondered about the reason behind Lacey’s demeanor. She couldn’t miss the tension between Lacey and Michael. There were so many pointed looks between them and each conversation seemed to echo with unvoiced resentment.

  They’d slept together. Maybe not recently, but they had at some point. Any woman with half a br
ain would be able to recognize the masked longing in Lacey’s gaze when she looked up under her eyelashes at the contractor.

  Did Michael still harbor feelings for Lacey as well?

  A knock sounded on Emily’s door and she walked down the hall to open it. She’d finally updated her brother, Chris, about the situation with Trent and he’d insisted on coming right over.

  The poet stood outside her door, his blond hair tossed by a spring wind, two bottles of wine in his hands. “Hey, Em. Ready to drink?”

  She nodded and Chris walked in, put the bottles down on an occasional table and held out his arms.

  “Bring it home.”

  Emily fell into his embrace, sure she was about to burst into tears, but none came. She’d tried several times to make them flow, even going so far as to picture Trent pounding Veronica into delirium, his nude ass clenching and unclenching. But she just couldn’t seem to produce a single tear. Instead, she lay motionless against her brother’s chest as he stroked her back.

  “It’s going to be all right.” He held her at arm’s length and looked into her eyes. “I promise. Now tell me exactly what happened.”

  Emily led him over to the loveseat and they sat. She shared the story of seeing Trent and Veronica outside the sports bar and her subsequent conversation with Trent.

  Chris’ fair skin erupted in red splotches, just as it had when he was a little boy having a temper tantrum. “Asshole.”

  “I’m inclined to agree.”

  “Thank God for that. I was worried you might still be making excuses for him.”

  Ouch. He made enough for himself. “I didn’t cause any of this.”

  “Of course not. The man’s a jerk and he fucked around on my sister. I just want you to understand you’re dealing with a total narcissist. Ask anyone.”

  “When did you become a psychologist?” Emily stood and paced the living room. “You’re a goddamn poet.”

  “True, but my new girlfriend’s a psychologist. I’ve told Priya all about you and Trent, specifically about some of the stunts he’s pulled.”

  “Great. So you basically told this woman all about my personal problems.”