38. Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Eight
D eclan
Emma recovers from her shock quicker than I expect, pulling away, and crossing her hands over her chest.
But her nerves show when she swallows.
"What are you doing here?" she says. "I thought you would be at work by now."
I don't answer her at first.
My mouth is dry, my heart beating with all the emotions running through me, everything I want to say to her. How much I fucking miss her. It's only been a day, but today has been dragging into eternity, knowing I wouldn't get to see her by the end of it.
"The security system," I announce. "I wanted to tell you that there was a delay, but they're going over today to install it."
Her expression doesn’t change. "You didn’t have to come all the way here to tell me that. You could have told me over the phone."
"You would have picked up if I called?"
Her frown deepens. "Of course. Contrary to whatever you might think, I’m not childish. And you could be calling about Amelia or the construction. I’m not going to ignore your calls just because you’re being a giant bonehead."
Regret spreads through my chest and I sigh running my hand through my hair. "I’m sorry."
She shrugs. "Okay."
"Not just for this, but for last time too. When we had sex. I was rough with you."
"I already told you I was okay."
"Yes, but I still shouldn’t have treated you like that. I was a caveman. I should have been gentler."
Red colors her cheeks and her eyes flick to somewhere behind my shoulder. "Well, it’s not like I didn’t like it. Obviously."
I flashback to the sounds she made, the way she threw her head back, her legs around my thighs pushing me closer, begging for more.
My whole body tightens, desire spreading.
Oh, she definitely liked it, but that’s not the point.
I shouldn't have been so out of control with her. I could have hurt her.
"Still," I say. "I’m sorry. And I’m also sorry that I also embarrassed you in front of your people."
Her expression softens but then she sighs deeply. "Declan, do you think that was what I was mad about?"
"You were mad that I wouldn’t let you talk to your ex." Even just saying the final word puts a bad taste in my mouth. I don't want to give the bastard the satisfaction of the title, of having anything to do with her.
Emma rolls her eyes. "See? This is exactly the problem. You can’t let me do anything. Even if you were my boyfriend, this is the twenty-first century. Women no longer need permission from men to do what they need to do."
"That’s not what I meant, and you know it," I say. "He hurt you badly. I don't want him to do it again. God, Emma, how can you stand to be around him?"
"People change."
"The first time you saw him, you had a full-body freakout."
"Yes, but that was because I was surprised. I didn’t expect him to be here." She folds her hands in front of her. "Look, I’m not suggesting I become best friends with him or anything. But it’s childish to hold on to a grudge for this long. Not to mention annoying. I’m over what he did. I would rather just move on with my life."
"And us? Or are you moving on from that too?"
I don't know where that comes from, some deep-seated vulnerability or fear that popped up in the nearly forty-eight hours since we last spoke.
Her eyes widen slightly, the surprise apparent. A word pauses on her lips, and she shakes her head. "I thought you made it pretty clear that there is no us. And whatever fooling around we did, well maybe that needs to be over too."
"No." Urgency spikes and I grab her shoulders. She stares up at me. "Hold on. Let’s not make any hasty decisions."
"This isn’t a hasty decision. I’ve actually thought about this a lot." Her gaze is sober and more serious than I’ve ever seen it. "I thought about it all last night. I can’t keep making the same mistake and hoping for a different result. That's the definition of insanity.
"What are you talking about?"
"The truth is that I’m not someone who can do casual relationships," she says. "Never have been. When I’m with someone, I tend to make them the center of my whole world. And I want the same from them. I want the kind of love you see in movies, the kind that’s all-consuming and passionate. Two people who aren’t afraid to say what they feel about each other. You know what I mean?"
"Yes." I know exactly what she means, and I feel it like a noose tightening around my neck. It's the end.
She exhales. "It was fun while it lasted, and I think we had a good run, but I don’t think we can keep going on like this. It’s not healthy for me."
"Wait." I don’t have any control, but my hands move and are suddenly grasping her elbows, drawing her closer. I don’t know what I want to say or do next, but desperation is beating through me. I can’t let her go.
"Let’s not…Let’s not do anything hasty, okay?’
"I’m not. I've been thinking about it for a while." She blinks. "I think I’m falling in love with you."
The words hit me like a brick. Usually, I've never welcomed the 'l' word. In fact, I've always avoided it like the plague. I've found it to be something that people say when they want to get a reaction out of you.
Rachel would say it when we would argued, using it as a gotcha so that I would ignore whatever she just did.
She would also weaponize it whenever she wanted me to feel bad about not loving her back
But this is different. I can tell from Emma's expression that she doesn't want anything. She really means it.
"Not all the way," she continues. "But enough that this hurts me. Which is why I think we should end things here before it hurts more. I love Amelia, and I enjoy working with you on this project, so I don’t want our feelings to get in the way of that. This is the only way I can think of to do it."
I open my mouth, but no words are forthcoming. Mostly because she’s right. She’s fucking right. And the fact that it’s her being the adult in this situation is laughable. I should have done this weeks ago. I should have broken up with her before she got her heart broken.
I let my hands drop from her shoulders.
"I’m sorry," I say again.
She smiles sadly. "It’s okay. I’ll get over it. Like I said, I’m really bad at holding a grudge." And with that, she gives me a sad smile and sidesteps me, walking away without looking back.
I spot Cross, a few paces away leaning against the wall.
When our eyes meet, he salutes and then straightens to start following her. He keeps his distance, such that anyone but a careful observer might think he's just a pedestrian. I guess Emma is more comfortable that way.
The rest of the day is just as shitty as the start. The plumber who was supposed to start working today suddenly fell ill. Hiring a new plumber would mean having someone review our septic system all over again, so a delay is inevitable.
The delays seem endless, rendered eternal by a string of bizarre coincidences.
"What are the odds that something is wrong the second that we need it?" I ask the foreman later as he stands in front of my desk.
He shrugs. "I don’t know boss, but it’s very strange. I’m starting to think this place is haunted and powers that be are preventing you from doing this."
"This nonsense again?" I shut my eyes and lean my head back on the seat.
He shrugs. "I don’t know how else we can explain it. It’s uncanny."
"It is," I admit. I'm a reasonable person but Amelia's ghost theory is starting to seem more and more plausible. How else could I explain the fact that things keep getting messed up the second we need them to work?
It's like the ghosts know each step we're about to take before we make it.
My eyes pop open as a sudden idea occurs to me.
I sit up in the chair, alarming the foreman.
"What is it boss?" he asks. "What's up?"
I shake my head. I can't voice it yet, as the idea grows in my mind, taking root and forming fruit.
Of course. Why didn’t I think about that before?
I stand and the foreman jerks back as I grab my jacket from the chair.
"I’ll be back," I say.
The drive to the police station is quick, the scenery zooming by, the quiet of the car contrasting my loud thoughts.
And when I finally step into the station, with the door clanging shut behind me, emptiness and silence meet me.
The police officer is not there, but walking down the hall reveals Nate Huntley is standing in the jail cell. He smirks at me as I approach.
"Come to ask more questions?" he mocks.
I don't have time to mess around with him. I get straight to the point.
"The break-in wasn’t about stealing physical objects, neither was it about senseless destruction," I say. "You came to steal information, didn't you?"
Nate’s eyes widen. Fuck I’m onto something.
Of course, I am. It only makes sense.
Whoever is causing all these delays knows our every move. Because he has a copy of our construction plans.