“Yes, we have.” After Mac said hello to Emma, Brant asked, “Are you covering another shift today?” He was surprised and curious when Mac shifted uncomfortably.
“No . . . just picking someone up.” When Brant heard footsteps behind them, he turned, fully expecting to see his sister. Instead of Ava, a stranger with long red hair walked to Mac’s side. He was now closer to shocked when Mac slid his arm around the woman’s shoulders and gave her a quick kiss. Mac’s easygoing smile was back on his face, but Brant knew him well enough to see the strain behind it. “Brant, Emma, have you met Gwen Day? She works in marketing.”
“Er . . . no, I haven’t. Em?” Emma shook her head. After the introductions were made, a moment of awkward silence ensued. Brant was grateful when Emma stepped forward saying that she had to get home. Mac and Gwen walked toward his Tahoe while Emma took his hand and pulled him toward the parking garage.
“Yikes, was it my imagination or was that awkward as hell? I don’t know Mac that well other than the few times he has been by to visit you, but I always kind of assumed that he was involved with Ava in some way.”
Brant sighed as they reached Emma’s car. “It’s . . . complicated. Mac has been in love with her since we were kids, but Ava, well, she has issues. I always thought they would work it out in the end, though. I know she does love him in her own way. She just seems to have the Stone family curse of not being able to express herself.” When Emma started chuckling, Brant nudged her, saying, “Hey, no comment necessary.”
Emma smiled in return. “It looks like Mac is moving on. He wasn’t groping her or anything, but that wasn’t just a friendly embrace. Does your sister know?”
“I don’t know,” Brant admitted. “She has been acting funny lately, though. She and Mac are close in a distant way, if that makes sense, and I doubt that Mac could be dating and Ava not know about it. I should probably check in on her later.”
Emma trailed her hand across his ass, murmuring, “Speaking of later . . .”
Here it was, Brant thought, the moment of truth. Did he lie to make this easier or man up and tell the truth? Oh, how he wanted to take the easy way out and lie. “Babe, I kind of promised Alexia that I would have dinner with her tonight. She wanted to thank me for letting her stay at my place.”
When Emma just looked at him without saying anything, he stumbled on. “She’s working things out with her fiancé, Carter. She’s planning to move back in with him, so this is really more of a good-bye dinner.” When he moved in to kiss her, she gave him a brief peck on the lips that was the equivalent of being stiff-armed. “I’ll call you later?” Shit, his statement had come out more like a question. Nothing like having some confidence. She took her time getting in her car, almost as if she were waiting for him to add something more. When he didn’t, she waved once as she backed out. He might not be that experienced in relationships, especially successful ones, but even he knew he was in trouble.
Chapter Eighteen
Emma slammed her apartment door behind her just to have the satisfaction of listening to it bang. She threw her handbag across the living room and gave in to the urge to stomp her feet. “Ugh!” she shouted to the empty apartment. When her cell phone rang, she actually thought for a moment that Brant had gotten the silent message she had been sending him. Seeing her mother’s name on the caller ID, she knew there was no such luck.
“Hello, Mom.”
“Well, aren’t you just a ray of sunshine today, Emmie. What’s wrong?”
Emma wedged the phone between her shoulder and neck while pulling an old bottle of wine from the refrigerator. If she was going to be dumped for another woman and have to talk to her mother tonight, she might as well have some alcohol in her system. She popped the cork and sniffed the bottle as her mother continued to badger her. Shrugging her shoulders, she poured a glassful and downed half of it in one sip. When the line went silent, she knew she had missed answering a question. “What was that, Mom?”
“I asked how Brant was doing? Is he there now?”
“No,” Emma muttered. “He has a date.”
“Pardon?”
Rolling her eyes, Emma said, “I said he is working late.”
“Oh,” her mother laughed, “I thought you said something else. Honey, like I said, we just love him. He seems to adore everything about you. But my offer of a breast job is still on the table if you need it. It’s the best thing I ever did for myself.” Emma wondered idly if that included her marriage and motherhood, but she wasn’t brave enough to ask.
Deciding to change the subject, she asked, “How’s Boston doing? Is he on the chain gang yet?”
“Very funny; he is doing fine. Your uncle is confident that he can finish up some community service as long as he keeps out of trouble.”