Chapter 7 If You Walk Out Now To Follow Her, We're Done
Emma's POV
Sophia asked the waiter if he could help cut her foie gras, but then looked at Gavin. "Would you mind doing it? You know exactly how thick I like it."
"The restaurant offers professional cutting service," I interjected. "No need to trouble Gavin."
Sophia's face fell. "I'm sorry, I didn't think."
"Emma!" Gavin's sharp tone startled me.
Gavin had no response. Sophia's eyes welled up again. "This is all my fault. I shouldn't have interrupted your date..." She began to rise.
Gavin grabbed her arm. "Don't mind her. She doesn't mean it. She's been emotional lately."
I felt a sharp stab of pain as Gavin scolded me for the third time over Sophia. My fingers tightened around my fork as I watched him comfort her.
I watched in disbelief as he reached across the table, his hand almost touching hers. Ten years together, and he had never defended me with such passion. Yet here he was, leaping to her rescue several time in one lunch.
Other diners were stealing curious looks at our table. The embarrassment burned hotter than my anger.
"Excuse me," I said, forcing a polite smile. "I need to use the restroom."
In the bathroom, I gripped the edge of the sink and finally allowed my mask to slip. The woman staring back from the mirror had wounded eyes and a tight expression that didn't match the chaos inside.
"This isn't a coincidence," I whispered to my reflection. "She deliberately crashed our date."
I splashed cold water on my face. The coolness helped clear my thoughts. I pulled out my phone and looked again at the anonymous photo I'd received after the wedding dress fitting.
"Time to get answers," I told myself.
I needed to speak with Sophia alone, without Gavin's protective presence. Only then would I see the truth.
When I returned to the table, they were engaged in hushed conversation that abruptly stopped at my approach. I slid into my seat, noticing how Sophia's hand withdrew from where it had been suspiciously close to Gavin's.
"Feeling better?" Gavin asked.
"Actually," I said, pressing a hand to my stomach with a pained expression, "I think the foie gras might be disagreeing with me. I have some stomach pain."
Sophia immediately feigned concern. "Ms. Garcia, are you alright? You don't look well."
I looked at Gavin, who was already showing signs of worry. "I might need something for my stomach. Just an old issue flaring up."
"Should we go to the hospital?" Gavin asked, ready to spring into action.
I shook my head, keeping my voice deliberately weak. "No, that's too dramatic. Just some Tums from the pharmacy on the corner would help."
Sophia volunteered: "Why don't I go get it? You two can continue your lunch."
I gave her a meaningful look. "I don't think that's wise. Didn't the doctor say you should avoid activity?"
Gavin stood up. "I'll go. You two rest here. I won't be long."
"Thank you," I said. "Could you also get me some digestive enzymes? The green package like last time."
He nodded and hurried away. I watched him disappear before turning my full attention to Sophia.
An awkward silence settled between us. Sophia was the first to break it.
"Emma, you really hate me now, don't you?" Her voice carried a hint of challenge beneath the victim's tone.
I maintained my composure. "Hate is a strong word. But you make me uncomfortable, yes."
I looked directly into her eyes. "Gavin is my fiancé. We're getting married in a month. Yet you constantly contact him, even calling him away in the middle of the night. Don't you think that's crossing a line?"
Sophia's face suddenly changed, a cold smile replacing her fragile demeanor. Her hands stopped trembling around her orange juice glass.
"This has nothing to do with crossing lines," she said, her voice suddenly steady. "Gavin doesn't love you, Emma. He cares about me."
I felt as though she'd slapped me. "Excuse me?"
"You've been together for what—five years? And he's always kept you at arm's length, hasn't he?" Her eyes gleamed with satisfaction. "Haven't you ever wondered why?"
I wasn't prepared for this sudden attack. "You don't know anything about our relationship."
Sophia leaned forward. "I know he comes running whenever I call. I know he leaves your bed to be by my side. I know things about him that you never will."
"You're delusional," I said, though my voice lacked conviction.
"Did you know he was with me the night before your wedding dress appointment?" She continued mercilessly. "That's why he was late. That's why he left early. Not for work—for me."
I felt the blood drain from my face. "You're lying."
"The photo someone sent you?" She shrugged. "I sent it. I thought you deserved to see the truth."
My hands were shaking now. "Why are you doing this? Have you no shame? You were Lucas's wife—Gavin's sister-in-law. What you're suggesting is disgusting and disrespectful to his memory."
Sophia's eyes narrowed.
I leaned forward. "What would people think if they knew Lucas's grieving widow was pursuing his brother? What kind of woman does that make you?"
Sophia's eyes darted toward the restaurant entrance. Her expression transformed instantly—tears welling up, vulnerability replacing cruelty.
"Emma, I'm sorry for bothering you," she said loudly. "You can hit me, yell at me, but please don't talk about my baby."
I stared at her in confusion. "When did I say anything about your baby?"
Sophia stood up, one hand protectively over her stomach, making sure Gavin would see this tableau as he returned. "I should go," she said tremulously.
I turned to see Gavin rushing toward us, concern etched on his face.
"What happened?" Gavin demanded, looking between us.
Sophia sniffled, "Nothing, we were just talking..."
I took the medicine Gavin handed me. "Thanks. I'm feeling better already."
Sophia made a show of gathering her things. "I'm sorry for intruding on your date. I shouldn't have come."
"Sophia, wait!" Gavin called after her, already moving to follow.
As she walked away, I caught the fleeting smirk she directed at me—gone so quickly I might have imagined it.
Gavin turned to me, his expression hardening. "What did you say to her?"
I was stunned by his immediate accusation. "What did I say? You don't even ask what happened, and you're already blaming me?"
"She's pregnant and emotionally fragile," Gavin defended. "She needs special consideration."
He grabbed his jacket and handed it to me. "Take care of yourself. I need to make sure she gets home safely."
"Ten years, Gavin," I said, my voice quiet but firm. "We've known each other for ten years, been together for five, yet one tear from her outweighs all of that."
Gavin looked torn. "You don't understand. She needs me right now."
"And I never need you, is that it?" I asked bitterly. "Even during our date, she only has to call and you run."
"Emma, please" Gavin struggled to explain, "Sophia is pregnant and emotionally unstable. She can't be upset."
I looked him straight in the eyes, making my final stand. "Gavin Reynolds, if you walk out now to follow her, we're done."