Dylan was skilled at sizing people up quickly. Parnell was arrogant and privileged. And the way he stepped up beside Emma and slid his arm around her shoulders told Dylan the man viewed her as a possession. She was beautiful, intelligent, successful. The perfect trophy wife for a young surgeon.
“Dylan Wright,” Dylan introduced himself and offered his hand.
Parnell shook it, then purposefully returned his arm to Emma’s shoulders. Parnell knew. Emma might have not told him about Dylan, but the guy knew there was something between him and Emma. Maybe Parnell just had a sixth sense. Or maybe Dylan put off some kind of vibe. Whatever it was, Emma saw it too. Her nervous gaze jumped between them.
“I don’t recognize the name,” Parnell said, “but, man, it’s crazy. I swear I know you from somewhere.”
Emma tried again. “He’s—”
“Her husband,” he finished meeting Emma’s gaze directly. “I’m her husband.”
Her jaw dropped. Fire leapt in her eyes. “That’s not—”
“What?” Parnell laughed the word, but frowned down at Emma. “What’s going on?”
When Emma didn’t jump in to clarify, Dylan’s suspicion was confirmed—Parnell didn’t even know she’d been married.
“Emma and I still have a few things to talk about,” Dylan said, “but I’ll give you two a minute.”
Dylan turned and walked across the street. He felt the twin daggers Emma threw at his back, but he didn’t give a shit. He hadn’t sent the love of his life away only to have her marry some superficial fuck. Dylan wouldn’t be replaced by a man so completely wrong for Emma.
He felt ridiculous climbing into the piece-of-shit truck when Parnell had rolled up in a Lexus. Not to mention the guy’s looks. Parnell could have come straight from the pages of GQ, with perfect facial symmetry, straight white teeth, bright blue eyes, sandy-blond hair, and a gym-honed body.
Dylan, on the other hand, had been pulled apart and sewn back together several times. Numerous surgeries and skin grafts had left scars on eighty percent of his body. That accident had torn him apart in more ways than he could count. The only reason he’d made it to network news was because his face had been mostly spared.
He cracked the window and leaned a little to the right where he could see them in his side mirror. Now all he could do was wait and trust in the bond he and Emma had once shared.
5
“The news.”
Liam’s epiphany drew Emma’s gaze back to her fiancé. He stepped in front of Emma, blocking her view of Dylan’s truck. Not that she minded. Her glare hadn’t drawn blood anyway.
But she did mind Liam turning that condescending confrontational tone on her. Until now, she’d never seen him use it outside the hospital. And she could admit, even if it was just to herself, that he could be a real ass to nurses and lower-level residents when things weren’t going his way.
But now, his accusatory tone and expression was directed at her. Which was absolutely unacceptable. Yet, she did bear some responsibility here for not telling Liam about Dylan sooner, so she let Liam slide. A little.
“He’s that reporter,” Liam said, his expression a mix of shock and disgust, as if a reporter not only didn’t merit discussion, but sure as hell shouldn’t be complicating Liam’s life. “The guy you always watch on the news. What in the hell was he talking about? Your husband?”
Every muscle in her body cranked tight. Liam’s behavior was embarrassing enough without having Dylan as a witness. Luckily, his truck was parked the opposite direction.
“He’s my ex-husband.”
Liam’s mouth dropped open, and his face crumpled into a look of pure disbelief.
“For a very short time,” Emma added.
“Jesus Christ.” Liam’s voice rose as he lifted his hands into the air, then let them drop to his sides. “You’ve been married?”
“Just six months.” God, she hated this need to justify herself. But she’d been the one to hold back this information. If their situations were reversed, she wouldn’t be thrilled either. But she liked to think she wouldn’t act like a bitch. “It was a long time ago.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because it was another lifetime. Long before I met you.”
Liam clasped his hands on his head and walked in a slow circle. Emma darted a look at the truck. Dylan had his phone to his ear. She could only pray he wasn’t listening.
“I didn’t see the point—” she started.