The Affair: Week 8 by Beth Kery Read Free Book Online

the Mediterranean sparkling behind her, an ocean of compassion in her dark eyes.
    Adrian may have died, but part of him is in you. It always has been, Vanni
.
    And then . . .
    When the time came, he wasn’t afraid. Please believe me. I’m sure enough for both of us.
    He remembered Adrian’s hand letting go . . . releasing him. For the first time, Vanni realized it hadn’t been a weakening gesture, but a firm, decisive one. He’d grasped for Adrian desperately, but only water filled his hand, and he was rising to the surface like a buoy.
    Why hadn’t he recalled that until now?
    Vanni realized he could make out the outline of the bluffs and his house now. Dawn was breaking behind him. He took a shuddering gasp and plunged into the water again, swimming toward shore.
    * * *
    He walked back into the Breakers, soaking wet and naked. His mind was clear, though. He’d find Emma. He’d make her understand. It was different now than it had been when he’d tried to see her and Amanda stopped him several nights ago.
    He
was different.
    He was shivering when he stepped into the kitchen to make himself some tea for fortification. It was Emma’s drink, and just that thought warmed him.
    What if I can’t convince her that I really can offer her more?
    You’ll do it. One step at a time.
    He took heart from that steady, patient voice in his head. It was new, and yet it was achingly familiar.
    Part of him is in you. It always has been, Vanni.
    He opened the refrigerator to get some milk while the kettle heated on the stove. His gaze landed on the bottle of champagne on the shelf. He withdrew it and just stared at the label for several seconds, his brow furrowed.
    A moment later, he flipped off the burner on the stove and strode out of the kitchen determinedly.
    * * *
    Realizing it was too early to go to Emma’s yet, he stopped at a coffee shop in Evanston. He dialed Vera’s number as he sat at a booth.
    “Vanni?” his aunt answered on the second ring.
    “Did you see Emma? Last Tuesday night?” he asked without a greeting. “Did you talk to her at the Breakers before I got home from France?”
    There was a long, pregnant pause. “Why?” Vera asked finally. “What did she say to you?”
    “I asked you the question, Vera. Did you see Emma or not?”
    “Yes. We spoke briefly.”
    “Why didn’t you tell me that when I asked you on Wednesday? You claimed you hadn’t spoken to her at all, that she’d never arrived there to your knowledge. What did you say to her?” he seethed.
    “Only the truth, Vanni.”
    “What particular brand of the truth are you referring to?” he bit out, vaguely aware that the waitress cast a concerned glance his way. Anger was making him inappropriately loud.
    “I told her I didn’t think things would work out between you two. Emma seemed to agree, after she’d given it some thought.”
    He froze.
    “
You
told her . . .
you
didn’t think things would work out?” he finally got out in disbelieving fury.
    “She wasn’t right for you, Vanni.”
    “Who the hell are you to decide that? Isn’t that for Emma to decide? And me?”
    “I was just trying to be realistic. I thought—”
    Vanni turned toward the window, trying to block the rage that blasted through him like an inferno from the other customers in the restaurant.
    “I don’t care what the hell
you
thought. Emma told me you didn’t like her, but I never actually thought you’d do something this outrageous. You had no
right
. Stay away from her,” Vanni grated out, barely containing his wrath. “And stay away from me, too. It’s going to be a while before I can take looking at your face again.”
    He hung up, immune to the muted sounds of Vera’s pleas and protests.
    * * *
    “Emma?” Amanda called, halting Emma’s exit from the apartment. Her sister caught up with her in the front entryway. Emma looked over her shoulder, her hand on the knob. Amanda’s hair was tousled and she looked sleepy and alarmed at once.