Page 51 of Risk It All
“Yes, ma'am.”
Spending time with Emma does raise my spirits, or at the very least, takes my mind off of Max for a short time.
“Why don't you come with me to Hawaii?” Emma asks as we wait for the car that we called to pick us up outside of Saks.
“I've got a conference in a few days in Florida.”
“That's tropical. You should go down early. Soak in the salty beach rays. You could use it.”
“What do you mean?” I feign insult.
“Let's face it, Madeleine, you're looking every bit your thirty-two years. Anymore jetlag and you're going to have permanent dark circles and bags under your eyes.”
“It's not that bad.” I turn to look at my reflection in the store window. I don't have Emma's hypersensitive concern about aging, and yet, I don't want to look older than my years.
“I'm telling you it is. I also don't believe its jetlag. You probably saw something heinous in Nigeria that's giving you nightmares. I don't want to know the scary stuff.”
I smirk. “Thanks for being there for me.” Emma isn't totally wrong. I've been hunted by poachers, after all. I should feel traumatized. But I don't. I'd felt safe with Max. He was strong and brave, sweet and funny. And there he is, in my mind again.
Emma's phone beeps. “Oh, I got a text from Josie.” She reads it and then looks at me. “She and some others are going to a club uptown. Wanna come?”
“No. You go ahead. I think I need my beauty sleep.”
“No doubt you do.”
A black car pulls up to the curb.
“You take it,” I say. “We're going in opposite directions.”
“Okay. I don't know when I'll be home tonight.”
“Just be careful.”
“You know me.”
I do know her, which is why I tell her to be careful. After all, she’d been drugged and photographed drinking shots from a man’s belly button.
Emma kisses me on the cheek. “If this funk is because of a man and not trauma from third-world violence, I can stay. We can talk.”
This is the Emma most people never see. Deep down, she cares, at least for her family.
“I'm okay. Go have fun. It won't be long before you're thirty, so you should live it up while you can.”
“You're mean.”
“I'm the big sister. It's my job.”
I watch as Emma gets into the car and drives away. Emma does have a lot of fun. I do too, in my own way. But I wonder if Emma isn't on to something. Maybe going to Florida early and relaxing is a good idea. I can't remember the last time I traveled for leisure. The more I think about it, the more the idea appeals to me. Not only can I acclimate to the area prior to the conference, but on the off-chance Max shows up at my apartment, I'll be gone and won't have to face him.
I return home, pack my clothes and presentation items, and get a good night's sleep. The next morning, Emma still isn’t home, so I leave a note for her. Emma will be proud that I'm taking some R&R in Florida.
Max
I walkinto my office building wearing a scowl like I have every day over the last four weeks since returning from London. I try to be cordial to the people in my office, but they've finally given up on me, if the wide berth they give me is any indication. I don't blame them. I can't seem to let go of the hurt and anger since I woke in London to find Madeleine gone.
“Coward,” I seethe. She couldn't even say good-bye. I feel betrayed and humiliated. All of a sudden, I'm eight years old again and being told my foster parents don't want to adopt me after all. They adopted Kevin Dreker instead.
A million times I considered going after her. I probably could have caught up to her at the airport. I certainly could have gone to her apartment in New York. I'd even looked up information about a wildlife conference in Florida and saw her on the schedule of speakers. But what would hunting her down accomplish? Her message was loud and clear: Madeleine doesn't want me.
