Free Teacup Novellas 01 - Tea With Emma by Diane Moody

climbed in the cab of his pickup.
    “What’s up?” he asked, tossing his cap on the passenger seat and ruffling his hair.
    Ask him, Lanie. Ask him. Be brave, girlfriend!
     “I was just wondering, would you—well, if you’re not too busy sometime, could we—could I buy you a cup of coffee at Starbucks later tonight? There’s something I’d like to talk to you about.”
    Atta girl! You did it!
    “I’m afraid not.”
    Maddie’s heart sunk. What?
    “Oh, that’s okay,” Lanie answered. “No problem. Just thought I’d—”
    “I can’t let you buy, but I’d be happy to meet you later at Starbucks. My treat.”
    Maddie shot her fists in the air. Yessss!
    “How does eight-thirty work for you?”
    Lanie smiled, laughing her response. “Eight-thirty would be lovely. See you there.”
    Maddie danced a jig around the kitchen island. “Do I know a match when I see it? Am I a genius or what? Move over, Emma Woodhouse. You have met your match.” She laughed out loud. “Met your match. Get it? Oh I’m good. I’m really good.”
     

     
    Ian wrung out the white washcloth, its steam swirling into the air. He placed it back across his forehead then sunk deeper into the tub. The whirlpool jets pounded his body, matching the rhythm of his throbbing temples. He shook his head, trying to block it all out. Trying to wipe her from his memory . . . all over again.
    Another pounding woke him from his drowsy melancholy. He turned off the jets, listening. Someone was knocking on the door, the doorbell chiming repeatedly. “Go away!” Still the knocking continued, the doorbell incessant.
    “All right, all right. I’m coming.” He toweled off then wrapped his robe around him before heading down the hall, leaving wet footprints on the hardwood floor. He stopped cold. Melissa stood on the other side of the door, her face visible through the beveled glass inset.
    He turned around. “I’m not home.”
    The knocking continued. “Ian, let me in. We have to talk.”
    “No we don’t. I’m not here. Remember?”
    “Ian!”
    “Halloween’s not until next week. You’ll have to come back.”
    “Stop acting like a child and open this door.”
    How dare she! He bolted for the door, throwing it open. “What could you possibly want?”
    “I—just let me in. We have to talk.”
    “I don’t think so.”
    She lifted her chin in defiance, pushing the door open wider then stepping by him. “Stop this ridiculous behavior. We can at least be civil toward one another.”
    “Can we?”
    “Of course we can. And for heaven’s sake, close the door. You’re in a bath robe in case you haven’t noticed.”
    Without breaking eye contact, he shoved the door. The resulting slam felt good as he strode past her into the living room. “So what is it you want to say to me, Dr. Halston—or wait, Phillips, is it now?” Ian claimed the easy chair beside the fireplace, propping his foot on the ottoman. “Married, are we?”
    “Five years. With a four-year old daughter named Isabelle.” She walked across the room, placed her purse on the sofa, then took a seat.
    “How nice. Isn’t that just lovely. And here I thought all this time you didn’t much like the idea of marriage. What with all that commitment rubbish and what not. Silly, silly me. I’m so very happy for you. In fact, if I wasn’t so busy, I’d ask to see pictures, but alas, I just don’t have the time.” He drilled her with his eyes, hoping to make her squirm.
    She studied her fingers. He didn’t miss the large oval diamond on her left hand. “Ian, I never meant to—”
    “Spare me. I don’t want to hear it. Not a word, Melissa.”
    She looked up again with pleading eyes. “You never responded after I sent you all those letters. I hoped you would, though I know it must have been painful.”
    “Painful? You left me standing at the altar! In front of all our friends and family, standing there like a complete and utter fool. And you think it might have been