Meet Cute (Page 50)
Before I can make my presence known or make a move to confront her, a buzz fills the room. “Linda, are you available? I need your assistance in the office, please.”
“I have to go. I’ll call you next week, but I figure it shouldn’t be long before Emme’s in my custody. That bottle of vodka was a genius idea, so thanks for that. Anyway, once I have access to that money, we’ll plan a trip.” She ends the call and closes the laptop, pushing out of her chair. I wait until a door closes on the other side of the room before I check to make sure she’s gone.
Coast clear, I rush over to the laptop, flipping it open, crossing my fingers as the screen comes alive again. An online game of poker flashes across the screen. I glance over my shoulder to make sure I’m still alone as I click on the next tab, smiling when I find her email open. That’s what you get for not logging out.
The conversation I recorded is damning enough, but I’ll take any additional hard evidence that will nail her coffin closed. I scan the list of emails and note a starred one regarding a private school in San Francisco. I hope she’s not thinking about moving. Clicking on it, I skim the email between Linda and an administrator inquiring about on-campus placement. Apparently she plans to send Emme to a boarding school should she get custody. I snap pictures and print out the email so I have a hard copy before I perform a search for any others that match the email address. I find a few more and print them as well.
I close the browser at the sound of voices drawing closer, flip the laptop shut, and leave the room the way I came in, hoping what I’ve gathered is going to be helpful in keeping Emme with Dax.
The hallway is empty but for a few parents straggling in. The assembly begins shortly, so I give the person at the box office my name and she passes me over the reserved ticket. Apparently it’s assigned seating.
I’m surprised to find it’s an actual theater, although I suppose this school has a fairly hefty tuition, and it’s arts based, so it makes sense that they would have a real auditorium.
The usher shows me to my row, and of course I’m right in the middle, so everyone has to stand so I can get to my seat. The lights are already dimmed, making it difficult to see, but based on the profile, I’m beside Dax.
He shifts his attention from the person to his right to lift his jacket from the armrest—he’s still dressed in a suit, presumably because he came directly from work. His eyes flare when they meet mine, brow furrowing as his mouth turns down and then lifts slightly in a wry, unimpressed grin. He might be angry with me, but it doesn’t seem to affect the chemistry that pings between us as his eyes rove over me in a familiar, hot way.
I swallow past the lump in my throat and take the seat next to him.
He leans in close, warm minty breath caressing my cheek. “Emme invited you.”
“I’m sorry.”
He huffs humorlessly and shifts in his seat, dropping his elbow so it’s no longer on the armrest, touching mine.
I hate the horrible churning in my stomach and the burn behind my eyes at his quick dismissal. “I know you’re still upset with me, but I need to speak with you after the assembly.”
“I’m not interested in a conversation.”
I put a hand on his arm and he turns his head slowly, his glare directed at where I’m making physical contact. I want to erase his anger, make him understand that I didn’t mean to hurt him. I move my hand to my lap. “It’s not about us.”
“Well, that’s good since there is no us.”
My heart feels like it’s been punctured. Before I can say anything else, the lights go down and the curtains open. The stage is filled with students, all dressed in white shirts and black pants. Emme is front and center, scanning the audience.
Dax lifts his hand in a half wave when she finally spots him, and she smiles, her gaze shifting to me, and it widens even more. There’s no way I’m going to make it through this without crying.
And then they start to sing. I’ve always known Emme has a beautiful voice. She sings in the car whenever she likes the song. She belts out the lyrics when we play Just Dance, and she hums a lot. But this is something completely different; this is the kind of music that reaches inside and touches your soul.
I can’t hold back the tears when Emme steps forward for her solo. I recognize the song, vaguely. Her voice is hauntingly beautiful as she climbs the notes and dips down, taking us with her on an emotional journey. This is how she’s dealing with this loss, I realize. She’s found something to soothe the ache inside, maybe just a little.
I glance over at Dax, whose expression borders on tragic. I want to offer him some comfort, but I don’t think it will be received well. Instead I root around in my purse for another tissue since the one I have is already soaked with tears. Thank God for waterproof mascara.
Dax leans over, lips at my ear. “Here.” He hands me a fresh tissue.
I sniff and meet his eyes. “Thank you.”
For a moment he holds my gaze and I see the same thing I’m feeling reflected in his eyes, deep sadness, regret, and longing.
When Emme’s solo ends, the crowd rises to a standing ovation. Dax whistles and claps, maybe louder than anyone else in the room, and I hope like hell the information I’ve come across is going to be enough to end this battle with his aunt.
He picks up a huge bouquet of flowers and we wait as everyone files out of the auditorium. We’re seated close to the front, so we’re last to leave. I can feel Dax behind me, and I have the urge to reach back and find his fingers, to lace us together. I want to force him to listen to me and understand that what we have—had—was never about me making partner and everything about falling in love with him and Emme.
But I doubt he’s going to give me airtime for that, and I have a much more pressing issue I need to alert him about.
“I really need to talk to you,” I throw over my shoulder.
“I’m taking Emme out to celebrate. It’s not a good time.”
It’s too loud and there are too many people around to find privacy. When we finally escape the auditorium, Emme’s already waiting in the foyer, bouncing excitedly. She throws herself into my arms, wrapping me up in a huge hug with her skinny arms.
“You were amazing up there.”
“I missed you,” she mumbles into my hair.
“I missed you, too, sweetie, so much.” I hold her tighter, fighting another wave of emotion and losing the battle.
When we finally let go, I have to brush away the fresh tears. Dax stands off to the side, his expression unreadable until his sister turns to him, and then his smile lights up a black sky like fireworks.
My chest aches, hollowness eating at me because I know they’re not mine the way I want them to be, and I made it that way.
He holds out the bouquet, and her happy shriek is a sound I want to hear more of.
Emme turns to me. “We’re going out for something to eat, can you come?”
I glance at Dax. His mouth flattens into a line. “I think Dax probably wants a little time with you.”
Emme’s smile falls. “But I haven’t seen you in forever. Please, Kailyn? She can come, can’t she, Dax?”
Emme sends an imploring look her brother’s way. His cheek tics, but he forces a smile. “Of course Kailyn’s welcome to join us. It’s your night.”
“Yay!” Emme throws her arms around me again. “Can I ride with Kailyn? Can we go to the diner down the street? I was too nervous to eat before the performance, and now I’m starving!”
Thank you, I mouth to Dax as she drags me toward the door.
He nods, but his smile has vanished again.
The diner is busy, full of other students and their parents who had the exact same idea we did. Emme sits beside me in the booth and chatters away. Once we’ve ordered she’s dragged off to sit with a few of her friends. “I’ll be back in a few minutes!”
“She seems like she’s doing well.”
“She has really good days. This is one of them.” Dax arranges his silverware, but doesn’t look at me. “You had something you needed to talk to me about.”
I look around the diner. “It’s about Linda.” I reach into my purse and pull out the emails I printed off.
Dax leans back in his seat and crosses his arms over his chest, regarding me coldly. “What about her?”
“I overheard a conversation with someone before the assembly and it sounded rather suspect, so I recorded it. I also found this.” I push the printed sheets toward him.
“What is this?”
“An email chain between Linda and a principal at a private school.”
“What?” Dax skims it. “How’d you get this?”
“She left her email open on a laptop in the library.” I set my phone on the table between us. “I haven’t had a chance to listen to it, so I have no idea if I caught anything helpful or not.”
“Helpful how?”
“In building your case to keep Emme with you.”
“Emme keeps earbuds in the front pocket.” Dax points to her backpack.
I unzip the compartment and smile when I find the little pouch I gave her to keep her girl supplies in when it’s that time of the month. Tucked in beside them are earbuds. I slip the jack in and pass Dax one bud, pushing the other in my ear. He leans forward, forearms on the table, head down and inches from mine as I cue the recording. I turn the volume all the way up, cross my fingers, and hit Play.