Romans & histoires The Guest Book Emma Cline

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.

“Thank you, for always being here. I couldn’t do this without you.” He kissed her lips. ***** The night of the exhibit arrived, and the gallery sparkled with life. Guests filled the space, their voices a hum of anticipation as they admired the artwork. Emma stood near the entrance, welcoming visitors alongside Raphael. Dressed in a simple yet elegant gown, she radiated a quiet confidence that masked the nervous flutter in her chest. As the crowd gathered for the opening speech, Emma took a deep breath and stepped onto the small stage at the center of the gallery.

Emma's legs dangled as she sat waiting for Clyde, who was taking forever in the washroom. Thoughts flooded her kind, including her unanswered questions about the Carrington her parents had mentioned during her encounter with the Nashgur. How could she start a conversation with Clyde about that without raising his suspicion?

Everything was back to normal. Emma wandered out of the kitchen, and I could hear the stairs creak as she made her way up to the guest room she used as an office when she stayed out here. I turned back to the computer screen, the blank page still mocking me. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and then tried to dive into my work and forget the way Dean's eyes crinkled when he smiled. ***

When they reached the restaurant elegant and quiet, reserved for the entire private room at the back Mark parked in the lot behind it. Emma stepped out first. The dress hugged her breasts, the slit revealing the long line of her leg with every step. She could already feel the remote buzzing faintly through the fabric of her purse, Jax’s finger somewhere across the city pressing the button that would make her clit pulse at the next setting.

"When I was eight. I was in a basement for seven days. I forgot about it for twenty-five years. But I remembered." Claire stared at her. "How did you survive?" Emma thought about the basement. The chains. The boy who held her hand. "I survived because I wasn't alone," Emma said. "Someone held my hand. Someone told me everything was going to be okay." She leaned forward. "And now I'm here to hold your hand." Claire's eyes filled with tears. "Thank you," Claire whispered. "That's what I'm here for." --- The next morning, Emma received an unexpected visitor.

They come back at four. Emma comes through the door first, which surprises me, and she is carrying a bag from the bookstore, and she does not say hello right away, she goes directly to the kitchen island and sets the bag down and starts removing books from it with the focused, methodical energy of someone conducting an inventory. Three books on astronomy. One on architectural drawing. A slim volume on the history of bridge construction that she sets slightly apart from the others. “The bridge one is for a project,” she says, without looking up. “But it’s also just interesting.”

She didn’t even pretend to acknowledge me. “Wow. You should’ve told me you were bringing a guest, Ari.” She stepped in close, tilting her head just enough to let her hair fall over her shoulder. “And not just any guest. Ethan Cole.” I felt Ethan tense beside me. Emma’s eyes dragged over him shamelessly, her voice dropping into something softer. “I’ve read so much about you.” He didn’t even look at her. “Good for you.” Emma’s smile twitched. “I just mean—you’re even more impressive in person.”

and no longer sexually interested in women after a traumatic divorce many years ago? Ah... Whatever. Emma didn't want to think about that now. The most important thing was getting herself out of this situation first. Wrapping the blanket tightly around herself, Emma grabbed her clothes and hurried into the spacious luxury bathroom. After locking the door securely behind her, she leaned against the glass door, breathing heavily. Emma quickly got dressed again, her fingers still trembling slightly. Once she had finished, her burning curiosity prompted her to reach into her pocket and take out her phone. Without hesitation, she typed several keywords into the search engine, looking up the profi