Scared of Forever (Scared #2) (6 page)

The last question
interrupts my musing. Blake has no right to decide that.
Blake
should have been home with me.

“Just a guess,”
Tyler interrupts with a cocky grin, “but are you talking to
yourself and answering yourself back in your mind?”

“Why yes, yes I am,”
I laugh.

“You know that those
are the first two signs of madness, right?” Tyler replies
matter-of-factly.

“Is there a third, or
am I certifiable after just the two?” I ask. Tyler is easy to be
around. He’s pleasant and nice, and though he is cheeky and quips a
lot, he doesn’t seem overly flirtatious or smarmy to the point
where I start to feel uncomfortable.

“The third is eating
pizza with a random stranger in a strange apartment,” he laughs,
taking a bite of his slice. “I could be an axe murderer, or a
lonely stalker looking to find a new obsession.”

“You’re my future
brother-in-law. Or so you claim. And yes, I do admit now that you
mention it, you are a little strange—” I jibe back. There are
worse things than being stalked by him, I’m sure.

“Only a little? Wow,
now there’s a compliment,” he laughs. “So, catch me up. How
exactly did you meet my brother?”

“I was waitressing at
a restaurant a few blocks away. Although, at those posh places, I
think I was referred to as a ‘table service attendant.’ Blake
came in one night. He stalked me for about a week until I agreed to
meet him for coffee.” I hold up my rather large diamond engagement
ring. “The rest is history. I had just moved here from Cuba.”

“Cuba?” Tyler asks,
baffled.

“Yes Cuba, in
Missouri,” I say with a laugh. “We became engaged three weeks
ago. And much to your mother’s horror, have yet to throw an
engagement party or set a wedding date,” I say with exaggerated
dismay. “It all began five months ago.”

“You’re engaged
after four months?” Tyler looks like he’s about to cough up his
pizza.

“Why is that strange?
I love your brother. When you know, you know. It’s a no-brainer,”
I say defensively. When he says it out loud, four months does sound
kind of rash and impulsive.

“You’re just
so—different from Blake,” he says seriously.

“You just met me,”
I retort.

“Yeah, but you’re
smart, and you seem nice. It’s just—you’re not Blake’s usual
type. He prefers them a little bitchier, from what I remember.” He
observes, seeming unsure if he should continue speaking or shut up
while there’s still time.

“Blake is sweet, and
nice as well,” I defend. “You may not see him that way, I mean,
you
are
his brother,
after all. You just may not see the softer side of him.”

“I’ll take your
word for it,” Tyler says softly.

“On another note,
what made Eliza decorate this apartment so differently than ours?”
I ask, thinking of how much homelier it feels in here.

“Eliza? My mother?
What makes you think she had a hand in decorating my apartment?”
Tyler asks, clearly confused by my question.

“I thought since she
owned the apartment…” I say, trailing off.

“She
does
own half of this building, but Blake and I own our own apartments.
They were our eighteenth birthday gifts. I own this one, and Blake
owns the one you stay in. Therefore she has no wallpaper privileges
here or there,” Tyler says.

I remember the
conversation with Blake so well about the apartment. His exact words.
My mother’s family owns this
place. We can stay here until we move to the house with the white
picket fence that I’m dying to buy you.
The words are
clear in my memory. I had argued with him about it, and asked if we
could rent a place not owned by Eliza Carson, but he had been so
insistent.
Why lie about
something so trivial?

Tyler’s voice
startles me. “Are you conversing with yourself again?” The dimple
on his left cheek pops as he gives me a sweet smile.

“Yeah, hey, sorry, I
should get going. I’m sure I’ll see you again. I mean, are you in
town for a while?” I ask walking over to the door and grabbing my
shoes and bag.

“Until the next job
arrives. I’m a freelancer, so—” Tyler says walking behind me.

“So I’ll see you
around,” I complete for him, opening the door.

“Bye sis,” he says.

The familial reference,
which I should consider a term of endearment, causes a small knot to
form in my stomach. I’m about to turn and thank Tyler for the
pizza, when a hand pushes me gently to the side. A fraction of a
second later, I hear the sound of splintering wood.

I don’t think. I just
react. When I see Emily walking out of Tyler’s apartment, shoes in
hand, I just fucking lose it. Before I know what’s happening, my
fist swings towards his face. Tyler ducks, and my hand connects
painfully with the wood, splintering it. A foggy haze of absolute
rage clouds my vision.
When is
my damn brother going to learn to stay away from what’s mine?

Emily’s voice is the
first sound that resonates through the fog. “Blake, what the hell!”
she yells, grabbing me around the waist and attempting to pull me
back.

“Nice to see you too,
brother,” Tyler retorts sarcastically, leaning against the
doorframe, not at all rattled by my reaction.

“What’s going on? I
ask through gritted teeth, the calm in my voice surprising even me.

Emily opens her mouth
to speak, but Tyler beats her to it. “Your fiancée was home alone,
since
you
were
apparently working late, so we ate pizza together. It was nothing
sinister. Then again, you would recognize sinister better than either
of us.”

I don’t miss the
innuendo in his voice, or the accusatory tone. I’m guessing neither
did Emily.

“Don’t worry,
Blake,” Tyler spits, “we’re not repeating old patterns here.”

“Let’s go,” I say
softly, turning to Emily. I want to get the hell out of here before
Tyler has the opportunity to stir up another one of the shit storms
that he’s so famous for in our family.
Sanctimonious
bastard.

Emily closes the door
to our apartment after we walk in, and goes directly to the bedroom
without saying a word to me. We’ve never had a fight. The closest
we’ve ever been to an argument is over which international cuisine
to order in for dinner on any given night.

I grab an individually
packaged frozen steak from the freezer, wrap it in a kitchen towel,
and hold it against my abused knuckles, before walking into the
bedroom after her.

“Em,” I say softly.
“I’m sorry. I trust you. I just… when I saw you walking out of
Tyler’s apartment, something in me just snapped.”

She ignores me and
walks into the bathroom.
Fuck.
I
follow her, desperate to fix things. “Em, can we talk?” I ask
again.

She turns on her heel,
eyes blazing. I’ve never seen Emily angry. She’s normally so even
tempered. So put together. The fire in her eyes is exciting.
Dangerous, even. “You had no right to accuse me of anything. And
certainly no right to go around attempting to knock people out. What
the fuck were you thinking? Not to mention the fact that you were the
one who was
working late
tonight
.”

“So now after one
conversation with my brother, you don’t believe me anymore?” I
say with disbelief. “And by the way, it does look slightly less
than innocent to see you creeping out of his apartment carrying your
shoes. What the hell were you doing there?” The final sentence
leaves my mouth much more menacingly than I had intended, and much
louder than I wanted it to be.

“Tyler didn’t have
a bad word to say about you, until you showed up and nearly knocked
him out. As far as family goes, he seems like the only normal person
in yours. Not to mention that between your mother and that little
display of testosterone outside, I’m left wondering how many things
you are keeping from me,” she practically yells. “And I was not
creeping anywhere! How dare you accuse me of that?”

“Why does my past
even matter now? Look, I’m sorry for getting angry. It’s just, I
love you, and I’m a little jealous.” I say sincerely.
Because
right now, right at this very second, it’s true
. That,
and I don’t trust my brother.
At
all.

My words cause her to
relax her defensive stance slightly. Seizing the opportunity, I walk
over and cup her face in my good hand. “I love you,” I whisper.
“Let me show you.”

“I’m going to take
a shower,” she replies simply, moving my hand gently away. For the
first time since I deflowered Emily on my bed, she actually refused
me. My ego doesn’t really know how to process such a hit, so I make
my way over to my study, to write out the monthly checks. The
realtor, the suppliers, both for Aria’s tattoo shop. I send an
email to my mother, asking her to deposit more money into my personal
account. I hate relying on Eliza, but without her cash injection,
Emily will question where eighty percent of my income went. And since
I don’t have any of my trust to fall back on, my mother is my only
savior. I have to keep her happy.
I
have to keep them all happy
. I drop my head into my hands
in frustration.

Down the hallway, I see
the bedroom lamp dim, and hear the bathroom door click shut, followed
by the ruffle of the bed linens. I wait a few minutes, and then walk
down the hallway to duck my head in. Emily looks angelic. She always
sleeps on her stomach. I watch as her back rises slowly and falls
with every slumbered breath.
You’re
mine.

When I’m confident
that she’s asleep, I walk out the apartment door and knock on
Tyler’s. I don’t want to talk to this guy again, not now, not
ever. But I have to smooth out the rough edges. Make my position, and
his, very clear. I knock a few more times before Tyler finally opens
the door.

He wears his tattoos
proudly, his chest square and jutting forward like a vain peacock. I
want to fucking punch him. Again.
How
dare he flaunt the time he spent with her in front of me like that?

“What do you want,
Blake?” Tyler asks, clearly bored.

“Expecting me?” I
ask, walking past him into the apartment, not waiting for an
invitation.

“Sooner or later,”
he says, walking over to lean against the kitchen counter. “I
presume you’re here to tell me to stay the hell away from Emily.
Always very possessive over your toys, right big brother?”

Snide
bastard.

“I don’t know what
fucking game you’re playing, Tyler, but it ends now,” I say
forcefully. “Why are you even back in town? To stir shit up in
another one of my relationships? Is that it?”

“I live in this
town,” Tyler rebuts. “And last time I checked, you didn’t own
it. So why don’t you just back the fuck off.”

“So are we playing
good brother, bad brother again? What the hell did you say to Emily?”
I demand angrily.

“I said nothing,”
Tyler replies, taking a step forward. “I said nothing! Your dirty
little secrets are all buried right where you left them! But you have
hit an all-time low with this girl. Does she know about your past?
No, of course not. Because she didn’t even know I existed. Same
games as always, Blake. Same fucked up games, only this time, it’s
not Charlotte or me that you’re fucking around with. It’s a very
sweet girl, who thinks the sun shines out of your ass! I hope and
pray that you are serious, because if not, this is totally fucked
up.”

“You tried this
before, Tyler. Tried to come between me and the woman I love,” I
spit maliciously. “It didn’t work then, and it won’t work now.”

“The woman you love?”
Tyler scoffs. “Singular or plural? How many women do you love,
Blake?”

Tyler is angry. I can’t
tell if it’s for her or Emily, but either way, he needs to stand
the fuck down. “Emily doesn’t need some hero, like the one you
think you are, swooping in to fill her in on the truth as
you
see it! You and I are not having this conversation again,”
I say lowly, walking over and pointing a threatening finger at him. I
turn on my heel and walk out the door, slamming it hard in my wake.

Sleep doesn’t come as easily as I
had hoped it would. Instead, I stretch out onto the cold leather
chaise in the living room and stare out at the New York skyline. I
grab my phone from my pocket and send a text.

Are you still awake?

A few minutes go by with no reply.

I was dreaming of u, but I am now. U ok?

I release a huge sigh
of relief. We exchange texts back and forth for a few hours. I tell
her about my fight with Emily, and Tyler being back in town. She’s
brief in her responses about the first subject. She doesn’t even
comment when I refer to Tyler. She knows how I feel about it. Slowly
but surely, my tension headache dissipates, and I’m calm enough to
finally fall asleep.