Public Secrets
Chapter 186 : You've every right to be angry, but I just can't do this. Not yet."&quo

You've every right to be angry, but I just can't do this. Not yet."

"You don't want me?" His voice was quiet and oddly flat.

"You know I do." She groped for his hand and tried to soothe his rigid

fingers in hers. "I guess I'm a little frightened, and a little

unsure." Ashamed, she brought his hand to her lips. "I don't want to

lose you, Drew. Please, give me a little more time."

Her sigh shuddered out when she felt his hand relax in hers. "You

couldn't lose me, Emma. Like all the time you need. I can wait." He

brought her close, stroking with one hand. The other curled into a

tight fist in the dark.

IT FELT ODD spending the summer in London again. During her childhood

at least a few weeks of Emma's vacation had been spent there each year.

But it was different now. She was no longer a child. She was no longer

staying in her father's home. And she was in love.

She knew Drew was hurt that she had refused to move in with him. It

wasn't morals-or perhaps only a small part of it was morals. She wanted

the romance to go on a little longer-those lush bouquets he sent to her,

the funny notes that arrived in the mail or were slipped under the door.

She wanted time to enjoy it-the thrill of failing in love. The terror

of being in love. The gla.s.sy-eyed, light-headed exhilaration that every

woman has the right to experience at least once.

And most of all, she wanted time to be sure she had at last stepped out

from her father's shadow.

She didn't love Brian any less. Emma doubted she could. But she'd

discovered that she wanted more than her photographs to stand on their

own. Then there was Bev.

For most of her life Emma had been cheated out of a mother. In the

weeks as summer drifted into fall, she made up for a longing of a

lifetime by moving into one of Bev's guest rooms.

If Drew was impatient with her, she had to put him off. She needed this

time with Bev, not to feel like a child again, but to reforge a bond.

How could her new relations.h.i.+p work if she left older ones unresolved?

She had her work. The city where her father had spent his childhood

caught her imagination. Emma could spend hours scouring the streets and

parks, finding subjects. An old woman who came day after day to feed

pigeons in Green Park. The ultratrendy set who walked

Labradors or pushed prams along King's Road. The tough-faced punks who

haunted the clubs.

So she stayed on, a month, then two months longer. She celebrated with

Drew when Birdcage Walk's alb.u.m settled into Billboard's number twelve

slot. She watched in amus.e.m.e.nt as Lady Annabelle ruthlessly pursued a

baffled P.M. She cut asters and mums from Bev's garden. And at last,

she took a step forward and submitted prints and a book proposal to a

publisher.

"I'm meeting Drew at seven," Emma called out as she tugged on a short

suede jacket. "We're going to dinner and a film."

"Have fun." Bev gathered up an armful of samples. "Where are you off to

now?"

"Stevie's."

"I thought he was under the weather."