My Great Escape Led Me to You (Emily Blair) novel Chapter 810

Emily Blair licked her parched lips and called out, her voice hoarse, “Mom…”

Emma George picked up the stack of photos again. “These young men were all recommended by neighbors I trust,” she said. “You have so much going for you, so I made sure to only pick the best—successful, decent men from good families. I’ve screened them all myself; there won’t be any mistakes.”

Emily stared at the topmost photo, at the gentle, refined face of the man looking back at her, and fell silent.

Emma pressed on, “Just pick one to meet, at least give it a try. You don’t have to commit to anything, but you owe it to yourself to go out and see what’s out there.”

Under the weight of her mother’s hopeful gaze, Emily found herself unable to argue. She simply reached for the photo at the top of the pile.

“Him, I guess.”

A smile finally broke across Emma’s face. “Alright, I’ll set it up. Send me your schedule, will you?”

Emily rose from the couch, nodding. “You don’t need my schedule. I’m free all weekend—set it up however you like.”

“So, tomorrow’s Saturday. You don’t mind if I arrange it for then?”

“That’s fine.”

Emma nodded, satisfied. “Good. Now, off to bed with you. I’ll take care of everything.”

Her tone suddenly turned light and cheery, a far cry from her earlier seriousness.

Puzzled, Emily turned just in time to see her mother grinning as she gathered the fallen photos from the floor, stacking them neatly before tapping away at her phone, presumably sending a message.

Catching Emily’s look, Emma glanced up, her eyes creased with delight.

Emily hesitated. “Mom?”

Emma held up the photos, beaming. “What’s with that look? You agreed, didn’t you? I already asked him to keep tomorrow evening free. No backing out now.”

Emily groaned inwardly.

She felt like she’d just boarded a runaway train.

Emma wasted no time. “Did you read the info?”

“…No.”

Emma’s expression pinched with a frown. “You still have time. Make sure you look it over today.”

Emily’s head throbbed. She ducked away, slipping from her mother’s grip. “I need breakfast first.”

She didn’t see the exasperated look Emma shot her as she went back to Emily’s room, grabbed the file, and set it pointedly next to her daughter’s plate at the table.

“Read it when you’re done eating. I’ll be checking up.”

Faced with a beautiful, hearty breakfast, Emily found every bite tasteless.

She forced herself to finish, then, under Emma’s relentless watch, picked up the file and flipped it open.

The first thing she saw was a standard headshot. The man looked dignified and approachable, his hair neatly styled, lips curved in a polite smile, and his eyes warm as he gazed into the camera.