Chapter 30 Emma
Ishould have called.
That's what a rational person would have done. Pick up the phone, dial his number, ask him directly about the offer. Simple. Clean. Professional.
Instead, I was standing outside his office building at nine in the morning, staring up at the narrow staircase that led to his practice, trying to convince myself this wasn't insane.
I'd barely slept. Had spent the entire night replaying the headhunter's call, imagining David packing his bags, picturing him in some sleek New York office with floor-to-ceiling windows and a salary that could buy my apartment ten times over.
I could have texted him. Could have sent a simple Hey, got a strange call yesterday. Want to talk?
But I didn't want to text. Didn't want the distance of a phone call or the safety of written words I could craft and delete and craft again.
I wanted to see his face when he told me he was leaving.
Needed to see it.
Even if it destroyed me.
The coffee shop below was just opening. The barista gave me a curious look through the window, probably wondering why someone was loitering on the sidewalk at nine AM on a Friday.
I climbed the stairs before I could change my mind.
The door to his office was unlocked. I knocked anyway.
"Come in."
I pushed open the door.
David was at his desk, laptop open, papers spread out in front of him. He looked up, and his entire expression shifted when he saw me.
Surprise. Then something like hope. Then concern.
"Emma." He stood up quickly, almost knocking over his coffee. "Is everything okay? Is there a case—"
"A headhunter called me Wednesday night." The words came out sharper than I intended. "Looking for you. Morrison & Klein. Partnership offer in New York."
His face went very still.
"She couldn't reach you," I continued. My hands were shaking, so I crossed my arms to hide it. "Asked me to pass along a message. Said they need an answer by today. Said the firm is very excited. Significant compensation package. Multiple offers from other firms."
David didn't say anything.
"I could have called you," I said. "Texted you. But I…" I stopped, not sure how to explain why I'd driven across the city at nine in the morning to confront him in person. "I needed to see you. To ask you in person."
"Ask me what?"
"Are you taking it?"
The question hung between us.
David closed his laptop slowly. Came around the desk but didn't get too close. Just stood there, three feet away, looking at me like he was trying to figure out what I needed to hear.
"Do you want me to take it?" he asked quietly.
"That's not an answer."
"No. But it's a question." He held my gaze. "Do you want me to leave? Would it be easier for you if I did?"
My throat felt tight. "Don't do that. Don't make this about me. This is your career. Your decision."
"It's not that simple."
"Yes, it is!" The words burst out of me. "It's a job offer, David. A really good job offer. Everything you used to want. Everything you destroyed our marriage trying to get. So just tell me… are you taking it or not?"
"Why did you come here, Emma?"
I stared at him. "What?"
"You could have called. You could have texted. You said so yourself. But you drove across the city at nine in the morning to ask me this in person." He took a step closer. "Why?"
"Because I needed to know."
"Why?"
"Because—" I stopped. Started again. "Because four days ago you sat across from me and said you were in awe of me.
You said you respected me. You looked at me like—" My voice cracked.
"And the whole time, you were fielding offers from New York firms. Multiple offers.
And I've been sitting here trying to decide if I could trust you again, if I could forgive you, if I could—"
"If you could what?"
"If I could let you back into my life!" The admission came out too loud, too raw. "And now you're leaving and I—" I pressed my palms against my eyes. "God, I'm so stupid. I'm so fucking stupid for even considering—"
"Emma." He was closer now, close enough that I could feel the warmth of him. "Look at me."
I dropped my hands but didn't look up.
"Emma, please."
I forced myself to meet his eyes.
"I'm not taking the job," he said.
The words didn't make sense. "What?"
"I'm not taking it. I turned them down yesterday. Called Jennifer back and told her I wasn't interested."
I stared at him. "You—what?"
"I'm staying here. In this office. Doing pro bono DV work that barely pays my rent. Because this is the life I want. This is who I want to be."
"You turned down Morrison & Klein."
"Yes."
"Partnership. Two million dollars. Everything."
"Yes."
"Why?" My voice came out as barely a whisper.
"Because I spent five months choosing ambition over you," he said. "Choosing what I thought I wanted over what actually mattered. And I'm not making that mistake again. Not for any amount of money. Not for any partnership. Not ever."
"David—"
"I know you're terrified," he continued.
"I know you don't trust me. I know you're still deciding if you can even stand to be in the same room as me.
But Emma, I'm not going anywhere. Not to New York.
Not anywhere. Because this…" He gestured around the small office.
"This work, this life, this person I've become…
it's real. And more importantly, you're here.
Even if all I ever get is working cases with you and occasionally bringing you coffee and watching you save lives from a distance…
God, I'll take it. I’ll take it each and every day.
Because having you in my life in any capacity is worth more than anything Morrison & Klein could ever offer me. "
My heart was pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat. "You're serious."
"I called Jennifer yesterday afternoon. Told her I was staying here.
She tried to negotiate. I said no. Then I declined five other offers from firms I'd been ignoring for weeks.
" He ran a hand through his hair. "I'm not going anywhere, Emma.
I'm here. Doing work that matters. Being someone I can stand to be.
And hoping…" His voice softened. "Hoping that maybe, someday, you'll believe that. "
"I want to believe you." The words came out broken. "I want to so badly. But David, you hurt me. You destroyed me. And the idea of trusting you again, of letting you close enough to do that again—"
"Then don't." He said it so simply. "Don't trust me yet. I'll earn it back. However long it takes. Years, if that's what you need. I'll show up every single day and prove to you that I'm not that person anymore."
"How can you be sure?" I was crying now, couldn't stop it. "How can you know you won't—that you won't choose wrong again?"
"Because I already made my choice." He took one more step closer, close enough to touch me but keeping his hands at his sides.
"Three years ago, I chose ambition. I chose Sarah.
I chose partnership and prestige and everything that looked like success from the outside.
And I destroyed the only thing that actually mattered.
I've spent every day since then living with that.
Learning from it. Becoming someone who wouldn't make that mistake.
And yesterday, when Morrison & Klein offered me everything I used to want, I knew exactly what to do.
Because the only thing I want is standing right in front of me. "
My breath caught.
"I love you," David said. The words were quiet but certain.
"I know I don't have the right to say it.
I know I destroyed any claim I had to you.
But it's true. I love who you are. I love who you've become.
I'm in awe of you every single day. And if all I ever get is to admire you from a distance while we work cases together…
that's enough. Because you're enough. You've always been enough. "
I was shaking. "I'm terrified."
"I know."
"I don't know if I can do this."
"That's okay."
"What if I can't forgive you? What if I can't move past what you did?"
"Then I'll accept that." His voice was steady. "But Emma, I'm not asking you to forgive me right now. I'm not asking you to trust me or give me another chance or make any decisions. I'm just telling you the truth. I love you. I'm staying here. And I'll wait as long as you need."
I looked at him. Really looked at him. At the man standing in his tiny office above a coffee shop, who'd turned down millions of dollars, who'd spent a year doing work that mattered, who'd learned how I took my coffee and showed up for strangers and became someone I didn't recognize.
Someone better.
"I'm scared," I whispered.
"Me too."
"If we do this—if I let you try—you have to understand. It's slow. On my terms. And if you ever, ever make me regret this—"
"I won't." His voice was fierce. "Emma, I swear to you, I won't."
"You can't promise that."
"You're right. I can't." He reached up slowly, telegraphing the movement, and cupped my face in his hands. "But I'm going to spend the rest of my life trying to be worthy of you. Starting right now. Starting with this moment. And every moment after."
I looked into his eyes. Saw the fear and the hope and the absolute certainty there.
And I made a choice.
"Okay," I breathed.
"Okay?"
"Okay. We can try. Slow. Careful. One day at a time. But—" I took a shaky breath. "We can try."
The smile that broke across his face was like sunrise.
And then I kissed him.
It wasn't soft or tentative. It was three years of grief and rage and loss and healing, all compressed into one desperate, claiming kiss. His hands were in my hair, mine fisted in his shirt, and for the first time in three years I let myself feel everything I'd been holding back.
Want. Need. Hope.
Terrifying, impossible hope.
When we finally pulled apart, we were both breathing hard. His forehead rested against mine, his hands still cradling my face like I was something precious.
"I love you," he said again. Quieter this time. Just for me.
I closed my eyes. "I'm not ready to say it back."
"I know."
"I might not be ready for a long time."
"That's okay."
"But I want to try. I want to see if we can—" I stopped. Opened my eyes. "I want to see if the person you are now and the person I am now can build something better than what we had before."
"We will." His voice was certain. "We will, Emma. I promise."
I let myself believe him. Just for this moment. Just for right now.
"You really turned down two million dollars," I said.
He laughed, and the sound was so genuine, so full of relief and joy that it made my chest ache. "I really did."
"You're an idiot."
"Probably." He kissed me again, soft and sweet. "But I'm your idiot. If you'll have me."
I thought about all the reasons this was a terrible idea. All the ways this could go wrong. All the hurt and betrayal and broken trust we'd have to work through.
And then I thought about the way he'd looked at me four days ago in the clinic. The way he'd turned down New York without even telling me about it. The way he'd said I'm staying here like it was the easiest decision he'd ever made.
"One day at a time," I said.
"One day at a time," he agreed.
I kissed him again. Because I could. Because he was here, and I was here, and maybe—just maybe—we could find our way back to each other.
Slowly. Carefully. One day at a time.
But we'd try.
And for now, that was enough.