The Guest Book Emma Cline Novels & Stories

Emma then stood in the queue, along with other teenagers. "You seem very interested to meet him?" Emma turned to see who spoke. To her shock, Mrs Tepes was standing right behind her. "I read a book written by him before. Just wanted to get this book signed." "Oh same here." 'Oh God, how will I talk to this author, without Mrs Tepes noticing?' The girl in front of her dropped a blue pen. Emma bend down to pick it but she stopped. She realized that the girl didn't notice her pen.

“Well, without Claire, I probably would never have met this wonderful woman.” Emily looked at him. Claire’s smile froze for a second, but Emily responded fast. “Oh yes,” she said sweetly while looking at Claire. “Claire has always loved fixing situations. She’s such a kind friend.” Both women smiled politely at each other, but the air between them felt sharp. Claire finally stood up. “So… where am I staying?” Emily answered before Ethan could. “Lila prepared the guest room on the other side of the mansion.” Claire nodded. “Perfect.”

I received a call from CBI Officer Jannett, they got a clue on Emma. I took the immediate flight to Las Vegas, with immense happiness and joy to find Emma. I rushed to the police station to see Jannett, and there it was. Something that I have been waiting for, a small remembrance. It was Emma’s handbag; they found her passport and phone in the bag. As I searched the bag, I noticed the book we had our first fight about, I noticed the polaroid of our first date and the ring I got engraved “D + E = Forever”. I could not breathe, Jannett ran for a glass of water. It was too late, I blacked out on the ground.

I made my way to the smaller guest house at the edge of the fence. When I reached the door, I knocked twice. “Emma?” I called out. No response. Listening closely, I opened the door and stepped into the dimly lit room. It was sparse, as most guest quarters were. “Girl?" I called out, getting pissed. Was she hiding? Did she leave the quarters without my permission? Cautiously, I drew my dagger and stepped into the washroom and the sight froze me in place. Emma was there in a makeshift basin too small for her. The guest quarters had no tub, and it was clear she’d tried to improvise.

Sharp jawline, green eyes that seemed to see too much, and an air of confidence that should have been annoying but somehow wasn't. "Actually, I was just leaving." Emma started gathering her things, but her laptop bag chose that moment to rebel. The zipper stuck, her notebook tumbled to the floor, and her pen rolled under the stranger's feet. He crouched down to retrieve her pen, and Emma caught sight of the title on her fallen notebook's cover: "Heat Between the Lines - Draft 3." Her heart stopped. That was her working title—the one she'd scribbled on the cover without thinking, the one that revealed exactly what kind of book she was struggling to write.

With the constant ringing of cell phones, the clanking of heels and shoes against the floorboards, and screams and blares coming from all directions, it looked as if she entered a fish market. “Looks like the CEO hasn’t arrived yet?” saying that, Emma settled her stuff on her table and slipped into her seat. She shot her head up when she heard fast footsteps approaching her. Turning to the left, Emma was greeted by a panting Claire who was holding a pile of files in her hands. “Oh, Emma. Good to see that you’re on time. Here, get these files done as soon as possible”, she spoke hurriedly while handing her the large heap. They were around ten in number but Emma had no issues.

She silently left her room, hiding the book in the inside pocket of her jacket, and proceeded past the Packhouse in utter stillness to Bruce’s study. Because one of their vital inclinations is hospitality, Ema unlocked the thick oak door without even bothering to knock. Bruce glanced up from his desk shocked to momentarily break into a frown that was returned immediately behind the stern air he exhibited. He stared into her eyes, in a low voice, and he said, calmly, kindly, “Ema. What do you want, you visiting at this hour of the night?”

Maybe she shouldn’t have exploded like that, but Isabel had provoked her too much. She reached the guest room and found Claire sitting on the bed, playing with a stuffed animal. "Hey, sweetie," Emma said softly, walking in. "Get your shoes on. We’re leaving." Claire looked up, confused. "Leaving? But we just got here." Emma gave her a gentle smile and knelt in front of her. "I know, baby. But there’s somewhere else we need to be." Claire looked disappointed but didn’t argue. "Okay, Mommy. Can we get ice cream on the way?"

A couple walked in, obviously, they were tourists, and they didn't need anything, just directions, Jemi wrote it down on paper and handed it to them, echoes of thank you filled the building She stared at the clock... Five more minutes to go, about to heave a sigh of pretending relief, the cafe door swung open and in came ... "Shit " she whispered. And it came Emma. She was dressed in a yellow flay gown that was above her knees, a pair of black high-heeled boots that didn't look comfortable in the slightest way. Watching her walk in a zig zaggy order, Jemi bit back a smile. "What are you doing here?" She asked when the wobbly woman had reached the counter.

Claire was so into it that she wrapped her hands around the back of my head, not giving a shit about the other guests surrounding us. I just needed Emma to see me kissing Claire’s neck. I thought by doing that, I would finally stop holding back and go back to being the guy I had always been. Even though I tried as hard as I could to focus entirely on Claire, I still couldn't stop stealing glances at Emma. She wore fitted jeans and a crop top that showed off a small strip of skin I had traced with my bare hands and tongue so many times. Even with that bulky protective vest over her clothes and her hair pulled up in a ponytail, she looked beautiful. It was annoying how pretty she looked.